announced him as Hawk.
Hawk? Yes. She remembered now. He was the guy who got shot outside the pharmacy.
“Hey,” Saks said with a sexy grin.
“Hi.”
“Just picking up my friend, here.”
“I see that.”
“You coming by tonight?” he asked.
She almost said no, then remembered her grandfather. Maybe Saks had information about what was going on. It was a clubhouse. She couldn’t get in trouble there, could she?
“Yeah.”
Saks’ face lit up, like someone had handed him a puppy.
“Great. See you later.”
Saks gave her one more smile as he pushed his wheel chaired friend out of the elevator and they entered.
Gloria’s eyes glowed brightly with mischief once more.
“You going to see him?”
“Yes.”
“Great!”
“Why?”
Gloria chuckled. “Because if you go see Saks, that’s way worse than me seeing Mario.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Saks swept the floor of the bar for the third time as the antsy feeling that jittered through his body hijacked his concentration. Chrissy showing up unexpectedly had been a jolt to his system. The kiss he’d given her, innocent as the light brush was, had put his body on high alert. He hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about keeping his cock from stirring with the scent of her now clinging to his shirt. His rebellious dick went from half-hard to hard at the thought of her blonde hair hanging on her shoulders. Or her svelte body in that dress that hugged every curve as if it made love to her.
He only hoped she would show tonight, though it was getting late and he needed to turn on the security system. Saks held out, hoping she’d still show.
“Hey,” Hawk said, interrupting his reverie. “Hand me a beer, will you?”
“Just because you live here doesn’t give you free access to Luke’s brew.”
“Jeez, chill, bro. I just need something to take the edge off my thirst. Fuck. Just put it on my tab.”
“Luke lets you run a tab?” Saks eyed Hawk with skepticism. Probies, probational members, like Hawk weren’t given tabs.
“Well, hell, I do live here,” Hawk groused.
“Brah, you haven’t even turned back the covers on your bed yet.”
“Oh,” Hawk laughed. “I thought you did that.”
“I’m not the help, asshole.”
“Really, ‘cause you’re doing a good imitation by all that broom-pushing you’re doing.”