“Damn, my girl’s good.” And I’m not even talking about sex—mainly because we haven’t fucked yet—just her art.
“She’s got talent, that’s for sure.” Shade rubs his chin as he scrutinizes the lines on the paper.
“When did she draw these?” We went straight to bed in the early hours of the morning and she conked out the minute her head hit the pillow. I know because my dick took full notice of the fact we weren’t getting a happy ending to the long day.
“Don’t know. They were under the door when I walked in right before Church,” Hoops says as he pushes the drawing to the side and takes out a notebook where he keeps all the important shit from our meetings.
Shit, that means Parker made these before going to her appointment. Impressive.
“That reminds me. She was badly hurt during the fight.” My head snaps up at Hoops’s words and a shot of adrenaline fills my veins within seconds.
“The fuck?” He’s got my full attention now.
“Hey, Bear, do you remember when Grinder used to fuck with us because we were pussy whipped?” Bear just smirks and nods at Psycho. The quiet, silent, grizzly stares at me with a glint in his eyes that saysit’s your turn, asshole.
Of course, I ignore them because…someone hurt Parker and I’m only finding out about it now?
“It was months ago, Grinder. She's fine.” Hoops rolls his eyes and continues, leaving me open mouthed and reeling.
“I don’t care if it was years ago. We’re going after them.” And that’s that.
“Gee, didn’t see you so gung-ho when it was about me.” Shade cocks his head to the side, clearly trying to provoke me, but I’m un-provokable—famously so. By famous, I mean these assholes know I don’t react to bait.
Everyone chuckles but my focus remains on Hoops, waiting for him to reassure me.
“It’s the whole reason we’re here. We need to get moving, ride around town, have a couple of the brothers, the younger ones, go to the club without their cuts. Go on four wheels so they don’t raise eyebrows.” Tapping my index finger with each point Hoop makes, I nod in agreement.
“Memorize the sketch so you’re not looking at it between two sips of whiskey.” My instructions and raised brow are directed at Bash because he’s too pretty not to go. “I think Kincaid should go with Bash.”
“Not together.” Everyone turns to Shade. “Bash will be the eyes but Kincaid will need to replay the scene, in a way. My guess is these guys are regulars there, they have the home advantage.”
Shade makes sense. Kincaid is hot as fuck, even with the permanent scowl on her face.
“Then we’ll need to be close by in case shit goes down. We’re not leaving anyone behind again.” Hoops is speaking to us all but his hard gaze is solely on Shade. “Understood?”
“Yeah, Prez.” Various versions of that answer echo around the room and as we switch to another subject—race nights—my dark thoughts infiltrate my mind.
The word torture bounces around in my brain before I push it back out and focus on Church.
Shade’s wrong about one thing. I want the heads of those bastards on spikes. Not just for Parker, but for all of us. Especially Shade. You harm one, you harm all.
“Fancy seeing you here.” I’m straddling my bike, facing the salon, when Parker comes out. The way she greets me with her sexy-as-fuck Brit accent gets my dick hard in an instant. It’s not the most comfortable situation, given how I’m sitting, leaning on my crossed arms against the gas tank.
My gaze does a long once-over of her outfit and it occurs to me that this could’ve gone south before it even began.
“It’s a good thing you’re wearing jeans.” I grin, all toothy and feral.
Parker slides her hands into her back pockets as she ogles Tallulah and I feel a little violated for her. The bike, not Parker, obviously.
“Is this your way of asking me to sit on your motorcycle?” She takes a couple of steps closer and her perfume, sweet yet citrusy, caresses my nostrils and makes me wish we were alone instead of in the parking lot of this huge-ass mall.
“I’m not asking, Stabby.” The idea of her not getting on my bike and summoning some stupid fucking stranger with her phone to take her back to Maribel’s actually stirs up an emotion I’m not enjoying. Irritation.
“Oh, I see. Is this the part where you call me your old lady and think I’ll just shut up and put out?” And just like that, she has me laughing like a fucking idiot. “Because I’d put out, for sure, but don’t expect me to shut up.”
“The idea never crossed my mind. The shutting up part, that is. The fucking is definitely happening.” I tap the back of my bike and give her a head signal that she needs to sit.
The purse that’s over one shoulder won’t do. As she comes close enough, I take the strap and place it diagonally so that it’s snug between us once she’s flush against me, then I take the helmet I brought for her and place it over her head, securing the strap under her chin. She looks fucking sexy, and a flitting visual of me fucking her from behind while she’s wearing the helmetdances through my mind but I shake it away. No fucking way I’m missing out on wrapping her red hair around my fist.