Page 76 of Choices
Pulling into the clubhouse behind an SUV, I follow it to the garage and park in my usual space, dismounting as quickly as possible and helping Claire off while ignoring her smiling at me like the cat who got the cream.
The new Tim climbs out of the SUV and opens the back door for Kitty, Rogue, and Rose. They climb out one after the other, chatting about the prices of drinks at club Twenty-Four-Carat Gold.
Lead fills my boots. I can’t fucking move. Kitty’s eyes slice to me then Claire before eventually landing on my bike. Rogue tugs on her arm, and she jerks away.
“I saw you getting friendly with Michael Carnell,” Claire says, her voice sugary sweet, like they’re best fucking friends and she hasn’t been bitching me out about her all night.
“That’s funny because he said he knew you.” Kitty arches a brow, walking past us.
My gaze whips to Claire, alarms bells blaring.What the fuck?
Shaking her head, she frowns, forcing out a laugh before taking off to walk with them. “I met him a couple times years ago. I’m surprised he even remembered me. Really, my friend knew him, not me.”
Not once has she mentioned knowing Michael. When I killed Nicolas, she knew he was a Carnell, but I never asked how she knew. Following them through the clubhouse to the bar, I grip Claire under the arm and steer her away from the girls to a corner out of earshot. “You want to explain to me how Michael recognized you?”
Blowing out a breath, she leans into me, whispering, “I met him through a friend years ago. I honestly don’t know why he would remember me.” She shrugs.
I take a moment to study her features, looking for any deception, then release her, jerking my head toward the door we just came through. “You have makeup all over your face.” The black smears from her tears have dried like zebra stripes.
“Oh my god.” She swallows and covers her face with her hands, rushing toward the exit.
“Damn, what did you say to her?” Dodger slaps me on the back. “Never seen a woman haul ass out of here so fast.”
“That’s a fucking lie,” I scoff. “They leave your room like that every time they see your tiny dick.”
Moving to the bar, I wave Jess over. “A bottle of whiskey.”
“I’m glad Jess is back behind the bar. These prospects are fucking useless.” Dodger holds up two fingers when she only brings back one glass.
I hadn’t really noticed she’d been gone. “Where has she been?”
“Fuck knows. Europe, I think.” She places the glasses down and uncaps the bottle. “You been traveling, sweetheart?” Dodger asks, looking down her top when she leans over to pour the bourbon.
“Until I ran out of money.”
“Well, let me add to your fund.” He beams, digging into his pocket and reeling off a couple twenties.
“Thanks, Dodger.”
“Any time, gorgeous.”
“She won’t fuck you.” I snort as he cranes his neck to watch her walk away.
Jess doesn’t fuck anyone. She came here to earn cash and see her uncle, a nomad who would drop in every month.
“I can live in hope, brother.”
Downing the amber fire in my glass, I pour another and knock it back just as quickly. Alcohol is going to be my crutch tonight.
“Rough night?” He takes the bottle and adds another serving to my glass.
“You have no fucking idea.”
“I might,” he grunts, nodding over my shoulder to Claire reappearing, her face freshly washed and free of makeup. She shimmies her ass as she walks, joining us at the bar.
“I need to drain the snake,” Dodger grunts, side-eyeing her.
“You mean tadpole,” I call after him.
