“There’s more than that, but the garage ain’t club-owned. Dutch owns that all on his own. He’ll probably pass it on to his sons when he drops over. Or… maybe not. Knowin’ Dutch he might give it to his grandbaby out of spite.”
“Well, at least it’ll stay in the family, right?”
“Yeah. And I’m damn well sure that family ain’t done growin’ yet. Cage and Rook both got ol’ ladies now. Never know when one of them will get knocked up.”
Fallon pressed her lips together.
“What? You gonna bust out laughin’ again at somethin’ I said?”
She shook her head. “It’s the slang you all use. It’s a whole other language.”
“It bother you?”
“No, not at all. It just takes some getting used to, is all. I spent my whole adult life clawing my way to the top in the business world where every damn thing you say is analyzed and criticized, especially if you’re a woman. So, like I said in that break room, I find it very refreshing that you speak your mind and in a way that’s all your own.”
Whip grinned, glad the way he spoke wasn’t going to be an obstacle. He wasn’t going to change the way he was for anyone. Even the woman currently standing in front of him, no matter how much he wanted to slide between her thighs. He wouldn’t even pretend to be someone he wasn’t for just one night. “Yeah. We don’t really give a fuck what anyone thinks about us or how we talk. Or what we do.”
“You just be.”
“What?” He tipped his head and leaned closer. Maybe because of the loud music he hadn’t heard that right.
“You just live your life. You just be,” she explained with a shrug.
“We try to. Sometimes we got people or things tryin’ to keep us from doin’ that.”
“And then what?”
Fuck. He never should’ve said that. “Then we deal with it.”
“How?”
He hesitated. “However we need to.”
He needed to get her off this line of conversation. It was going somewhere he couldn’t go. Getting into details she didn’t need to know.
He tipped his head toward the crowded bar area. “C’mon. Gonna get you a drink. You play pool?”
“No.”
Thank fuck because he didn’t want to spend more time than necessary at Pete’s. He wanted to get to know her better but not through conversation.
Or at least if they were going to have conversation it would be better if they were naked and while taking a breather after their first round of knocking boots.
He settled his hand at the small of her back and steered her toward where Dodge, Dozer and Woody were working.
Halfway there, a whirlwind came out of nowhere and Whip grunted as Maya slammed full force into him, knocking his hand off Fallon’s back. The nine-year-old snaked her arms around his waist and squeezed him as hard as she could.
Fuck.
Syn’s daughter dug her chin into his gut, tipped her face up to his and yelled, “Hi, Whip!” over the loud music.
He smiled down at her, brushing a lock of dark hair away from her eye. “Hey, Maya, how’s it hangin’?”
“Good! How are you hanging?”
He glanced at Fallon to see an amused but confused expression on her face.
Whip was not going to tell Maya how he was hanging right about now. “I’m good, kid.”
“I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” She almost sounded insulted.
“That makes two of us. Fallon here wanted to grab a drink.”
“Who’s she?”
Whip scratched the back of his neck as he spotted Dodge working his way around some patrons to get to where Whip was being held hostage.
The older brother shot Whip an exasperated look while he shook his head and peeled Maya’s arms from around Whip’s waist.
“What’d I tell you about tacklin’ Whip like that?” Dodge asked her, clamping his hand on her shoulder.
“I was just saying hello.”
“That ain’t how you say hello to men who ain’t Sig or me. We talked about that.”
“But—”
“No. Go say goodnight to your mom, then grab your coat and your helmet. Your uncle’s on his way to pick you up.”
Maya’s dark eyebrows pinned together. She looked like a carbon-copy of Syn, but personality-wise she was more outgoing than her mother, which was surprising for a woman who stood on a stage and sang in front of crowds.
Maya squinted up at Dodge. “Which uncle?”
Dodge raised a dark eyebrow at her. “Which one you think?”
“I’ve got a bunch of uncles,” she insisted stubbornly.
She was right, she did. Trip believed in the whole “it takes a village” concept to raise the Fury kids. Luckily, everybody was onboard with that. It not only made sense, it kept the bond within the Fury strong. The kids were their future.
It fell on all of them to protect and teach the kids. Maybe not teach them in a school-type of way, but in a common sense and street smarts type of way.