Sloe Ride (Sinners, #4)

“Make it four thirty. It’ll give her time to coo over ye, and we’ll be having dinner on time, then.” Donal gave him a quick squeeze, then let Rafe go. “It’s good to see ye, boyo. We’ll be seeing more of ye now, understand?”


“Yeah, I got it.” Rafe sucked at the coffee drops he’d gotten on his hand when Donal nearly folded him in half, then muttered at Donal’s retreating back. He put the cup and treat down on a tiny speck of a table, then wrung his hand dry with a napkin. “Sir.”

“Ah, and you know how he hates that word. Might as well be telling my uncle to fuck off and die,” Sionn Murphy growled, pulling Rafe into a tight hug. “God, it is good to see you, Andrade.”

“Sionn.” Rafe returned the hug, and their embrace grew as painful as the burn in Rafe’s chest when he’d seen the Morgans. “Dude, can’t breathe. I just fucking saw you yesterday. You act like I’m dead.”

“Just glad you came. And good, now that the aunt’s done torn a piece of your sorry hide off your ass, I can introduce you to the guys without having to look over my shoulder for Boadicea.”

“Your aunt know you call her that?” Whoever or whatever Boadi-something was, Rafe was pretty sure it wasn’t flattering Brigid in any way she’d like. “Sounds… naughty.”

“Please. She’d preen and slap my arm,” Sionn shot back. “Come on. I want you to meet Damie finally.”

He pulled back, sneakers squeaking on the floor. “Dude, I don’t know. I’m not exactly welcome in a lot of places. They might—”

“D came back from the dead, and Miki had a murder victim tossed into his car,” Sionn reminded him gruffly. “If anyone can talk to you about living in a shit storm, it’s these guys. Besides, you’ve got a choice. Musicians or cops?”

“Musicians it is.” He followed Sionn over to where the remaining members of Sinner’s Gin stood talking with a tall blond he recognized as Frank’s kid. “Jesus, is that Forest?”

“One and the same,” his best friend muttered. “And put your eyes back into your head, or Connor’ll pull them out for you. You know Con. The word possessive was invented for him.”

“It’s just so… fucking weird. I should have been around more, I guess. And Con’s more than possessive, he’s insane.” Rafe could still feel the steely clamp of Connor’s fingers on the back of his neck when he’d been warned off a fourteen-year-old Quinn.

“Yeah, you should have been around more,” Sionn agreed. “But here you are, so let’s go, then.”

“Okay, for those who are about to something or other, we salute you.”

He’d met the Sinner’s guys before, and still it shocked him to discover how tall Miki St. John was. And how growly. He’d seen feral cats taking down a seagull that were more approachable than the Sinner’s singer, but his quirk of a smile when Rafe held his hand out was heartening. A few tidbits of hellos and yeah-I-remember-yous, and Rafe felt the pressure along his spine ease.

The conversation turned to the Sound, and Rafe grimaced at Forest. “Sorry about your dad, man. Frank was a good guy.”

“For a stoner.” Forest’s eyes softened at the mention of the irascible hippie who’d mostly raised him. “But yeah, he was a good dad. Miss the shit out of him. More than I thought I would, but Connor’s offered to share Donal and Brigid, so I kind of got them now too.”

“Brigid is kind of like Russia. She kind of gets you, not the other way around,” Miki muttered only low enough for them to hear. “With teeth. Big, scary, kissy-faced teeth.”

“Hey, best mom I’ve ever had.” Forest toasted the firebrand matriarch with his coffee cup. “’Course, I’ve only had her officially for about half an hour or so.”

“Yeah, you keep thinking that, Ackerman,” Damie scoffed. “She had your ass in her sights as soon as she found out you existed. Only reason I’m safe is ’cause I’m with Sionn. Default to nephew status rocks.”

They found a lot to talk about: shitty road tours, crappy hotels, and the types of music that made their hearts sing. No one tossed out Rafe’s fall from grace, but as the conversation drifted over to Damie’s need to go back into a studio, Rafe felt the walls closing in on them.

“So, you’re getting a band together?” It was a small toe poke into the water, but the ripple it created was huge. Rafe tried not to let the flare of excitement in his belly get further than an ember, but he almost felt his cock harden at the thought of hitting a stage to drive a beat down into an audience. “Like kicking around together or actually going on the road?”

“Haven’t gotten that far.” Forest shrugged. “But I’m not saying no to a couple of road things.”

“Still need a name,” Miki tossed back. “And a bassist. Gotta be someone I can stand, because I get sick of looking at Damie jumping around in front of me. Need someone sane with me during the damned hour-long guitar wanks he has.”

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