“Laugh all you want. I don’t care. She’ll be mine, eventually.”
“Talk to her.” Liz got herself under control, still smiling.
“Yeah, I got to work on that. What’s up?” Count leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Kyle here is looking for a job once he regains his strength. He’s twenty, so legally, he can work in the tit show.” I hoped Count picked up what I was putting down, so that I didn’t actually have to say it.
“Yes!” He pumped his hands in the air, but his fingertips brushed the top of the door. “I got to get approval first, but yes.” He pointed at Kyle. “How’s your womanizing skills?”
“What skills?”
“Perfect.” Count turned around, whistling as he walked back down the hallway. “I’m getting out of the tit show,” we heard him cry.
Chapter 18
The Calm Before the Storm
Thunder
The radio blared a pop song as we rolled primer onto the walls of the banquet center. We’d painted the first wall the gray color Flo had picked out, but when the paint soaked straight in, we had to stop. It’d set us back a few hours, but we’d fallen into a rhythm, each of us taking up our own space. It wasn’t hard to miss every time one of us checked the door, like El Sombra Roja would appear on demand.
“God, I hate painting,” Slate bitched. He was on the opposite side of the ballroom from me, so I didn’t feel the immediate urge to shove the roller down his throat. “Gerry better have fucking squealed like a little pig.”
If Gerry hadn’t, this whole setup was a waste of time, and we’d be right back where we started. With nothing. Every time someone made a comment, it always ended with a dig at that fuckface. The plan was simple, but I doubted El Sombra Roja would take the bait. If he did, what did that say about him?
“I stopped by Bear’s house the other day,” Sabre replied nonchalantly. “It needs a fresh coat of paint.” A few snickers and coughs rippled through the room, but no one openly laughed. If they did, Slate would be butt-hurt enough to dig for gossip he could spread. We weren’t perfect, and most of us had secrets we didn’t want to see the light of day.
“Not my problem.”
“It isn’t, is it?” We all turned at the sound quickly. A few of the other brothers were reaching for their pieces, but when they saw the girls, they relaxed. Not by much.
Bear was standing in the open doorway that led to the hallway, holding a box. Kelly was standing next to her, bags dangling from both of her arms. There were lookouts around the banquet center, so they must have felt this visit was safe enough.
“Aww, fuck.” Slate forgot he had a roller in his hand, so when he brought it up to run a hand through his hair, the paint splattered all over him.
“Yeah, hope the club girls take pity on an old man like you.” Bear walked into the room, laying the box on one of the banquet tables set up. “Don’t bother showing up at my door unless you have paint in hand.”
“Burn.” Pretty smacked his lips. “Hey, Bear, I’m a growing boy. Would that be lunch?”
She didn’t bother to answer him, but we watched her as she pulled out sandwiches with our names on them. Flo kept a list in the kitchen of everyone’s favorite for times like this. “What dumb shit are you getting into?” she asked Pretty. I’d known the woman a long time. There was a bite in her tone, and we were all fucked.
I didn’t know how he did it, but Pretty’s smile slid into a pout. It made him look younger than he was. “Oh, nothing. I just won a bet, that’s all.”
Bear rolled her eyes before setting the empty box on the nearest chair, reaching for a few of the bags still hanging from Kelly’s arms. “Knowing you, it was probably some version of ‘my dick’s bigger.’”
“That one’s too easy.” He sidled up to Kelly, pretending to help her with the other bags. “Count was wondering if you were going to bring lunch today. He got dressed up for the occasion.”
Count dropped his roller into the nearest tray, and I desperately tried not to react. Pretty had been living dangerously for a while, but Wreck wouldn’t be able to save him this time. No one voluntarily went against Count. He controlled our pay, and brother was in the gym, hitting the speed bag, five days a week.
“Talk to her.” I heard someone cough, trying to help Count, but the brother was like a deer in headlights. His eyes were open, but nothing was registering.Kelly tried to ignore him, but I could tell she was nervous at the attention. No one dared laugh at the awkwardness settling into the room.
“How’s school?” I asked her, grabbing a plate before looking for my sandwich. She didn’t see me as a threat because I was old enough to be her grandfather. It was the right move, as she perked up, talking a mile a minute.
“I didn’t think I’d be able to catch up, but everyone’s really nice, and—“
“Yeah, like your male lab partner? He nice?” Count crossed his arms over his chest. The veins in his arms popped. He was a danger to her, but the worst part was he didn’t clock how badly she wanted to run. She didn’t feel safe in a room of bikers who would never have hurt her. She looked down, throwing the bags of chips onto the table as quickly as she could.
“So, is he nice?” I tried to smooth it over, but all she did was give me a tight-lipped smile. “Most of us are idiots,” I whispered, and Bear snorted.