“What time did she kick your sorry ass out?”
His grin grew and he chuckled. “She didn’t; it was J who threw us out at about three this morning. Pretty sure the poor fucker’s balls had turned blue and needed taking care of.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re right,” Nash contributed as he joined us. “It’s a beautiful thing to watch - Madison stringing him out like that.”
Stirring sugar into my coffee, I couldn’t stop the smile forming on my lips. “He’s nothing if not predictable when it comes to that woman.”
Nash grinned at me and nodded. “Very true, brother,” he said, acknowledging me in a way he hadn’t for weeks. Both Nash and J had been pissed off they weren’t clued in on the plan for me to take the Vice Presidency role from Scott, and had been vocal in that. I’d sensed a thawing in their attitudes toward me last week and it looked like we were making progress. Finally. That was a damn good thing – we needed everyone on board to make Storm strong again, and not to have the full support of our Sergeant-at-Arms and Road Captain hadn’t made this an easy task.
Grabbing my coffee, I said to Nash, “You got a minute?”
“I’ll grab a coffee and meet you in the bar,” he said.
I nodded and then turned my gaze to Wilder. “I need you to do a security check on all of our businesses today. Make sure all the surveillance is working perfectly, ensure all the buildings are locked down tight, and also make sure the managers are reminded that shit could go down at any time. You good with that?”
“Yep, I’m on it.” I liked the way Wilder never argued with a directive and the way he carried that directive out perfectly. He was also a stickler for attention to detail and I respected the hell out of that trait.
I left them and found a table in the corner of the bar. My mind drifted to my family while I waited for Nash. However, instead of my thoughts centring on my parents and brother, today they focused on my cousin. I’d half expected him to show up at my place last night, but he hadn’t. In fact, I hadn’t heard from him since our phone call. I hoped that meant he would take care of what I’d told him to, because I really didn’t want to have to carry out my threat against him if he didn’t. I would, though, and I wouldn’t hesitate. I refused to allow anyone to jeopardise my life or my membership of Storm.
Nash pulled up a seat across from me. “What’s up, Griff? And where the hell were you last night?”
I watched him for a moment while I drank some coffee. “I had something to take care of, but I heard I missed a good time.”
His lips pressed into a thin line and he tapped the table with his finger. Leaning forward, he said, “You must get a lot of fuckin’ sex, man. We hardly ever see you at club get-togethers.” Leaning back in his chair, he smirked. “Can’t say I blame you, though. A man’s gotta take * when it’s offered.”
I hadn’t been sure where he was going with that at first, and my gut had tightened, but I relaxed when I realised he thought it was all about sex. I played along. “First rule in a man’s life is to never knock back *, Nash.”
He chuckled. “Brother, it’s the only rule in a man’s life. That is, until he finds a woman to settle down with, and then there are two rules in life - never knock back *, and keep your woman happy so she never stops offering that *.”
Memories appeared out of nowhere and sliced through my heart with their clarity. Legs wrapped around me while I took care of her *, her smile when she came, her laughter when I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to our bed.
Fuck.
Four years and I still couldn’t get what she’d done to me out of my mind.
I cut to the chase with Nash, more to change the subject than anything. “Scott and I are meeting with Ricky this morning. Not sure what his agenda is, but we figure we’ll need to regroup after the meet so keep yourself free after two this afternoon. If it’s more urgent, and we need to go over it sooner, I’ll let you know.” Without waiting for him to reply, I pushed my chair back and stood. “Can you line J up for this, too?” I added, and at his agreement, I left him and headed back into the kitchen.
After rinsing out my mug, I rested against the kitchen counter and dropped my face into my hands, and attempted to catch my breath.
This didn’t get easier each year; if anything, it was getting harder.
* * *
Ricky had organised to meet us at an old abandoned house in West End. Scott had been in contact with Blade who’d insisted on sending some of his guys along, too. They waited down the end of the street, only to be called upon if shit went down with Ricky.
We found Ricky out in the back. He’d brought his second-in-charge with him, and they faced us, their faces expressionless. “Boys,” Ricky said with a jerk of his chin.