“Huh?”I questioned him, more than a little confused.I didn’t know who the sender was, and I highly doubted he did, either.
His finger clicked the number, and he hit call.Why hadn’t I thought to do that?I felt a little dumb for not dialing the number myself.Then again, I was so sure it was Shane…I never considered calling the culprit; I went straight to what I believed was the source.
Shane put the call on speaker, and it rang a few times, before the ringing was replaced with the sound of something rustling around in the background.Someone connected the call on the other end but didn’t say anything.
“I know you can hear me, you fucking coward,” Shane spoke in an eerily calm voice into the phone which he held about a foot away from his mouth.“If you are smart, which I highly doubt that you are, you’ll take my friendly advice.”He sucked on his lips and released them with a popping sound.“Leave her alone.She’s mine.”He ended the call, slowly placed my phone on my lap, and then hauled off and punched the steering wheel as he said a string of cuss words.
My eyes must have been the size of saucers.I clamped my mouth closed, not sure what to do or say exactly.My first instinct was to correct him.I didn’t belong to him, but I didn’t not belong to him either.
“Want to talk about it?”I finally broke the silence a few minutes after we were back on the road.
“Not even a little bit,” he said honestly.There were a lot of things I had called him in our lives—a big number of them were horrible—but liar never came out of my mouth when describing him.That was me.The funny thing, though, I didn’t typically lie to anyone else.But most people didn’t care enough to ask the hard questions.Shane did.The first impression got of Shane was that he was a people pleaser, and to an extent that might have been true, but more than that, he was so authentically himself.
He had a firm grip on the wheel, holding onto it so tightly that his knuckles were white from the death grip he was using.
“Are you imagining my steering wheel is someone’s neck?”I asked him, feeling the need to make small talk in the uncomfortable silence.
“Huh?”His eyes flicked to his hands, and he laughed.“I wasn’t, but now I am.”
“Great,” I half-heartedly joked, reaching for one of his hands and linking our fingers together.I wasn’t completely heartless.We both needed a friend right now, and I owed him this much.At this moment, I chose to remember all the times when he had been strong enough for the both of us.Images of the countless times I climbed over his windowsill filled my mind, and I was thankful for the way he protectively held me in his arms.I wasn’t sure if he realized how incredibly close I was to giving up and ending it all during some of those times.The only thing that kept me hanging on to a thread of hope in the darkest times in my life was him.
“Thank you for protecting me.”I said quietly, afraid that if I gave the statement the volume it deserved, it would shed light on where my mind had been.
“Thank you for letting me,” he replied, making small circles on the back of my hand with his thumb.More than likely, he thought I was talking about right now, which I was, but even more than that, I was thanking him for all of the times he had been my safe haven.
CHAPTER20
DON’T POINT GUNS AT BALLS
SAC
“I’m on my way now, Brother,” I reassured Wiley, giving him my ETA.Captain Pink’s V.P., Odin, had kept his word, and things had gone smoothly at the border.However, Monty clearing out his club hadn’t gone as well.Wiley texted to let me know the plans had changed and instead of texting back, I called.The time was bumped up two hours to clean out Cat Call.Apparently, there was one guy refusing to leave.I was supposed to meet Wiley at Gran’s but I trusted Wiley, taking his words at face value.We could sort out the specifics once I got there.
“Hurry up,” Wiley instructed in a hoarse voice.He must be getting sick.That was quick, though.I didn’t recognize anything being off with this voice yesterday.If that fucker gave me the flu or something, I was going to kick his ass.I hated being sick.If I came down with anything, I planned to climb into his bed and let him deal with the mess he made, and I didn’t simply get the flu.I got what a lot of women referred to as “the man flu”.Though it was a rare occurrence that I actually got sick, when I did, the symptoms were ten-fold of what a normal person would have.
“Don’t worry, Tiny.I’ll get the boxes off the top shelf for you soon,” I reassured him, taking the opportunity to give him shit.I waited for him to snap back at me for the size comment, but he just said “yeah” before ending the call.It wasn’t like Wiley to not say something quick-witted back.Typically, he was the first in line to go round for round with me, trying to put me in my place.Of course, he was anal-retentive when it came to punctuality, so that may have been what he was preoccupied with.Either that or I was right, and the fucker had the flu.Maybe both.
The drive to Monty’s was quick.As soon as the parking lot was visible, my eyes were scanning the parking lot and outside of the building for anything out of place.I was being paranoid, but it came naturally to me.The call with Wiley did nothing but add to my paranoia.
A red Corvette was parked off the side of the building, taking up two parking spots, a ’76 or ’77 model.From this distance, making out the emblem to distinguish which was impossible.Both ‘Vettes were good years in my opinion, though.Their engines packed the same punch, but I was a fan of the older one personally.I’d never had enough money for both a Vette and my Harley.It was a one or other type of situation.Neither of those shits were cheap.However, a motorcycle was kind of needed to be in a Motorcycle Club, so when I decided that was going to be my future, I kissed my dream car goodbye.
“C’mon, Dove,” I said to Cor, squinting as the sun practically blinded me.Bringing her along was less than ideal; in fact, I fucking hated having her riding shotgun but leaving her by herself wasn’t an option right now—especially with the coward texting her.If I ever got my hands on them, the fucker would pay with his or her life.The person responsible was probably a male; it fit the profile in my mind, but honestly, I had no fucking clue what gender the sender was.
“Why are we at a strip club?”She gave the place a fast once over while her eyebrows pulled together with her heavy judgment.
“Yeah.I have to get in there, and you staying out here isn’t an option.Take this.”I pulled the pocket pistol out of my boot and wrapped her hands around it.“Do you remember how to shoot?”I waited for her to answer, hoping she at least retained the basics from when we were teens.
She barely nodded, pinching the handle between her thumb and pointer finger, dangling the gun backward, the barrel flipping to point directly at my junk.
“Watch where you point that fuckin’ thing!”I shouted in a hurry, snatching the pistol from her, and then helped her find a comfortable hold on the gun.
“Eek!Sorry about that.You know I hate guns,” she said, baring her teeth as she spoke.
“I know.It’s just in case.”
“Since when do strip clubs require guns?Strippers take money not lives, Shane.”She glared at me, tucking my gun into the purse that rested on her hip.It was one of the kinds where the strap went across the body, so the risk of her accidentally losing her purse and the gun going off was slim.
I laughed, probably a little too hard at what she’d said.The last part sounded like a bumper sticker any one of us Bastards would have slapped onto our bumper.“They don’t normally, but I don’t trust the owner one fuckin’ bit, and something was up with Wiley.”
