“I’m not gonna tell your brother.”
Relief whooshes out of me in a long exhale. “Thank you. I know I should, but I can’t face his judgment.”
“I might not know Shuffle well, but our clubs do work together on occasion. I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.”
“Trust me, he’ll judge. Maybe not me specifically, but he was never on board with my decision to leave and giving him a reason to say, ‘I told you so’ is the last thing I can deal with.”
“Okay. I won’t tell him. But please think about clueing him in if for no other reason than it wouldn’t hurt to have him watching your back.”
Instantly, I bristle. “I don’t need him to watch my back. I’m a grown ass woman and can take care of myself.”
Screamer holds his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, Roxie, I didn’t mean to imply that you can’t. Shit, I’m all for you being an independent badass, but what’s the point in having an MC in your corner if you don’t use it to your advantage?”
He has a point, and it’s a big reason I came back here, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to admit it.
“I’m ready to go home,” I say, standing and gathering my trash.
He sighs. “Yeah, okay.”
We toss our garbage in a can on the way to the truck, and he opens my door for me, being the perfect gentleman. It simultaneously grates on my nerves and warms my heart. When he pulls up to the LTMC clubhouse, the prospect from last night is at the gate.
“Hey, Screamer.” He ducks his head to look at me. “Hi, Roxie. I don’t think we were actually introduced last night, but I’m Mark. Really sorry about Seth.”
Screamer glances at me with questions in his eyes, but I ignore him. “Wasn’t your fault, Mark. Can you just buzz us in, please?”
“Sure thing.”
The gate opens, and a minute later, the truck is in park in the gravel lot in front of the clubhouse. I take off my seat belt and open the door, but Screamer gently grabs my arm, forcing me to turn and look at him.
“What?” I ask.
He opens the center console and snags a pen and napkin. After writing something down, he hands the napkin to me. “Here’s my number. Ya know, in case you ever need anything.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Roxie?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll give you a call when your bike is ready to be picked up.”
I smack my forehead with my free hand. “Shit, I guess you need my number, too.”
He laughs at that. “It’s in the shop’s system from when you came in the first time.”
“And let me guess… even if it wasn’t, you have your ways of finding it?”
Screamer winks. “You got it.”
“Well, thank you for the food.”
“Anytime.”
“See ya.”
I shut the passenger door behind me and stride to the clubhouse entrance. As soon as I step inside, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I ignore it, thinking it’s Screamer who I’m sure put my number in his contacts as soon as he could.
My room is quiet, and as I set my cross-body on the bench at the foot of my bed, my phone vibrates again, and then again.
