*
He waited until she fell asleep, her body soft and warm against him, her breathing deep and regular. Then he eased himself off the bed, pulled on his clothes, and shrugged his cut over his shoulders. From the dresser drawer he pulled out his holsters and strapped them over his body. From the closet he carefully lifted his duffel bag and drew out his weapons—knives, guns, throwing stars, and chains. When he was fully armed, he took one last look over his shoulder.
She was beautiful in sleep, long lashes resting on creamy cheeks, red hair spread across the pillow in a silken wave. His heart ached and for a moment he was tempted to wake her.
But had never been one for good-byes.
NINETEEN
Be prepared for everything to go wrong with your repair. Tools will break, parts will go missing, and wires will get crossed.
—SINNER’S TRIBE MOTORCYCLE REPAIR MANUAL
“So, this is our new digs.” Connie trailed a finger over the dusty workbench at the far end of Sparky’s garage. “Needs a bit of cleaning.”
“Connie … be nice. Sparky is very kindly letting us use his shop until we sort out a new building.” Evie cleared a space on one of the tables and set up her new rack of paints. Zane had left in the middle of the night after their intimate encounter two days ago and aside from a curt assurance from Jagger that he was fine, she knew nothing about where he’d gone or how long he would be away.
However, standing up to Viper, facing the truth about her father, and finally letting down her guard with Zane, had left her feeling strong and determined to take back her life. After some heavy negotiations with Sparky, she had arranged to rent out the back of Sparky’s shop until she sorted out what to do with what was now her business, albeit the only things left were the land, employees, and the goodwill Bill had built up in his name.
Sparky looked up from the bike he was working on, and mocked an affronted stare. “It’s a garage, love. And I dare you to find one cleaner than this. Plus you should be thanking me for my generosity. This is a fucking palace compared to what you had.”
Connie gave him an exaggerated curtsy, all the more amusing for the fact she’d dressed head to toe in black leather—pants, corset and boots—so she could “fit in” with the bikers they would be working with for the foreseeable future. “Thank you, my lord.”
Sparky’s eyes widened and he gave a low hum of approval. “Say it again.”
“Thank you.”
“No.” His voice deepened to a husky growl. “The other part.”
Connie’s voice dropped to a throaty whisper. “My lord.”
Evie cleared her throat, reminding them they weren’t alone. Ty and Hacker leaned over a tool bench, heads bent together over a new tablet Jagger had brought this morning, along with a new laptop for Evie. She’d thought his gifts touching, but odd, especially since he wouldn’t meet her gaze or stay and chat. It was almost like he was feeling guilty, although she had no idea what he could be feeling guilty about.
Her head jerked up when Connie giggled. She and Sparky had been flirting ever since she’d arrived with the supplies this morning. Although they had never met, the heat between them had risen steadily as Sparky helped Connie and Evie clear a space to work, and now Evie worried they might combust.
She would have been happy for Connie save for the fact she was worried about Tank. Hacker had not-so-casually mentioned, as he helped her carry her boxes of new supplies into the shop, that brothers didn’t mess with other brothers’ “chicks.” Not only was it a club rule, it was part of the creed, for the simple reason that Sinners were by nature fiercely protective and possessive of their women. Brothers had died in fights over women until Jagger laid down the law.
“Connie. Can you come give me a hand?” She waved her friend over, then lowered her voice.
“I don’t think you should be flirting with him. What about Tank? He’s really into you.”
“Tank scares me.” Connie sat on the worn couch and put her feet up on the coffee table. “He’s too hot, too goddamn cool and loyal to a fault. He’s got that quiet confidence going on, like if someone pisses him off he doesn’t get visibly angry but you know the minute he puts his hand under his cut the dude is going to be dead. And in bed…” She fanned herself with her hand. “I travelled the world with my folks, had a multi-cultural sex education, but no one comes close to what he can do in the sack, and that’s without a whole lot of talking.”
“That sounds good,” Evie said. “So what are you doing with Sparky?”
“Connie shrugged. “I don’t actually know. Maybe I wanna see that outlaw biker edge or find out if it’s all for show. I mean, Tank doesn’t have a single blood patch on his cut. Not like Sparky over there. Or Jagger. Or your Zane.”