She twirled around proudly, and I realized she was dressed entirely in pink. Not quite a copy of Flora’s waitress uniform, but it wasn’t half bad. I’d have laughed at the joke if I weren’t dying a little inside every time I thought about what’d happened.
“How does news spread so damned fast around here?” I asked, running a hand through my still-wet hair. Darren opened a drawer and pulled out a corkscrew, opening one of the bottles as Carrie went for glasses.
“Does it matter?” Carrie asked. “This is your victory wine. You’ve earned it, babe. Shame we can’t share some with Jamie, poor guy. I heard he dragged her home and dumped her off before heading back out of town. Guess he’s had enough of her shit.”
“Can’t blame him,” I replied, reaching for the glass Darren held out to me. It wasn’t the greatest, but it was alcohol. “Now, tell me that Joel can’t make it tonight and I’ll be happy.”
“He can’t make it tonight,” Carrie said. That caught my attention, and I whipped my eyes over to her.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Darren said. “He’s a single dad and his babysitter fell through.”
“I said he could bring the kiddo,” Carrie added, frowning. “But he likes to keep dating separate from his daughter. How selfish is that?”
Darren and I exchanged a glance.
“Drink,” he said, handing his wife a glass. “You’re just grumpy because you missed the show earlier.”
“True,” she admitted. “But I have to say, it’s damned unfair, because that’s a video the whole town could’ve enjoyed.”
“You’re sick,” I told her. She shrugged.
“I love Hallies Falls. I’ve lived here my whole life and I don’t want to live anywhere else, but I’m not delusional. It can be a boring place. Nothing like a good drama to liven it up, you know?”
“Fuck off,” I told her, and she laughed.
I chugged my wine and flipped them the bird, deciding the evening might not be so bad after all. An hour later I was in such a good mood that when Joel messaged Carrie to tell her he’d found a last-minute sitter and ask if the invitation was still open, I figured why the hell not, and told him to come on over.
GAGE
It was a long day.
We’d spent part of it looking for Talia, who’d gone to ground like the little skunk that she was. If she had any brains at all, she’d pulled a runner and was already in another state. I’d also had to meet with Dobie Coales to discuss my case. He filled me in on what they were doing to jack things up for the Nighthawks. Fortunately, it didn’t look like it would take much pressure on our end. You’d think a career criminal would plan things out better, but Marsh had been leaning heavily on the Nighthawks’ reputation and existing structure to cover his ass. This hadn’t ended well for him and his fake “brothers”—we’d voted on it that afternoon, and now they were out bad. No club would ever take them in again. As for the prospects and hangarounds, we’d figure them out later. I wasn’t sure about the others, but Rome had proven himself solid enough.
It would take a couple more days before we let the news go wide. This wasn’t a bad thing, because Cord had to let the original brothers in prison know what was happening. Assuming all went well with the vote on the Reapers’ side, the Nighthawk Raiders would cease to exist very soon. End of an era, but it was time.
Throughout this, I’d been thinking about Tinker. Specifically, about how much I’d botched talking to her and the best way to try and fix it. I’d known she was pissed off, but when she ran her cart into my crotch I’d briefly lost the ability to think or form words. Then—before I could even catch my breath to smooth things out—things fell to shit when I looked up to find the little creep from the video standing right in front of us.
I’d pictured myself taking his place under Tinker a thousand times. Pictured beating the shit out of him another thousand times, because I really didn’t care for the idea of anyone else banging my woman. One thing to see it on a video—hell, I’d hardly noticed him at all, I’d been busy lookin’ at her—but in real life he was a problem.
He wanted to do her again, that was obvious.
Saw it in his eyes when he looked at her. He clocked me, too, and it wasn’t lost on him that I’d staked a claim. I expected him to back down like a bitch. Instead he stood up for Tinker publicly, and I hated him even more because he had balls. I’d respect that in any other man, but in his case I’d decided to make an exception.
Fuck him.
His cock had been inside her and that made him fair game.
I even gave some serious thought to ambushing him in the parking lot after our little confrontation, but another scene wouldn’t exactly win points with Tinker. Then I’d gotten a text from Pic. There was a hangaround out at the clubhouse causing trouble, and they wanted me to be there when they put him in his place. Things would be like that for a while, I realized—crazy and random—until we got the town back under control. Thank fuck I could wear my own colors now, and my brothers had my back.
Now I just needed to find time to fix things with my woman.
• • •
When I finally got home that night, it was nearly ten p.m. Still needed to talk to Tinker, and the light was on in her living room, so I figured no time like the present. I climbed up the stairs toward the door, then caught a glimpse of something through the window—Tinker and the asswipe from the bar. Guitar Boy. They were standing next to each other and the fuckwad was just about to kiss her. Jesus, how many men did the woman have chasing after her?
Feeling rage build, I pounded on the door and they jumped apart. Then Tinker was answering it, Guitar Boy behind her.
“Cooper, what the hell?”
“The name is Gage. We need to talk,” I said coldly. Shooting a leave-or-I’ll-murder-you look at Guitar Boy, I jerked my head toward the door. “You. Get out.”
The guy hesitated, taking in my big frame, the Reapers MC cut, and the knife at my belt. Then he reached for his phone, as if checking the time.
“I should probably head out anyway,” he said quickly. “The babysitter wants me home before it gets too late.”
What a fuckin’ pussy.