“Where are we?”
He grinned. “My place.”
“You own a condo?”
He nodded. “Sabbath’s not the only one who gambles money. I just know how to do it right.”
He parked the car, then stepped out, grabbing my bags from the back. A second later, my door opened, and Snyder appeared, holding out his arms so I could rush into them.
I did.
God, why is he so comforting?
From over his shoulder, my gaze landed on Ranger, who was looking at us curiously.
I realized that despite what he saw back at the clubhouse, it’s probably best not to do this in front of him.
Quickly, I pulled out of Snyder’s embrace, trying to get my shit together.
He glanced over his shoulder, the same realization hitting him.
“Come on, let’s get you inside.” He took my hand and dragged me behind him. Ranger saw that too, but if it bugged him, he said nothing.
Clash fiddled with his keys, then pushed open the door, revealing his secret pad. I half expected for there to be trash everywhere and a pigsty to greet me, but it was immaculately clean, and the décor had an almost feminine touch. A bouquet of fresh sunflowers and white lilies were there to meet us at the door, sitting on an antique side table carved out of cherry wood.
The floor was a deep slated brown laminate and stretched throughout the whole bottom half of the building. A metal staircase led up to what looked like a loft, but on the walls were actual pictures of Clash through the years, and pictures of him with other Outlaws having a good time.
He plopped down on a leather black couch and grinned. “Welcome to my abode.”
“You live here?” Snyder asked in amazement.
“On the down-low,” Clash replied. “With your mom,” he added with a mischievous grin.
“Fuck you, Clash.”
“Not this again,” I grumbled, rubbing at my temples. “Do you two ever stop arguing?”
“Hey, babe, we’re brothers. I say what I say because I know the big asshole can take it.” He grabbed his junk. “Want to try taking on something else I know you can handle too, Snydie?”
“Fuck you! No amount of sanitizer or plastic gloves would make me want to touch your cock. Hell, I wouldn’t touch it wearing a hazmat suit, carrying around a pair of heated tongs just pulled off a barbecue. That’s how much I wouldn’t touch it.”
Clash shrugged. “What about you, baby girl, want to touch Clash’s cock?”
My eyes widened when he said it out loud, obviously forgetting we had a guest in the room.
Clash’s eyes migrated over to where Ranger was standing and he frowned, realizing his mouth was getting away from him.
“Forget you heard that, Ranger.”
Ranger’s head swiveled to look at all of us. “Which part?”
“All of it,” Clash said with a grin. “I’m just fucking around.”
But Ranger didn’t look convinced. He actually looked a little pissed.
“Okay, what the fuck is going on here?” he shouted. “What kind of game are you all playing?”
Snyder ushered me to the couch, and I reluctantly sat next to Clash, who was grinning like a loon.