His voice trailed off and Naiya caught a flicker of sadness in his eyes. “You’re talking about them as if they’re still your family,” she said gently.
“They were my family. Not any more.” He shook himself and slid an arm around her waist. “Guess we gotta get on that bus. He’ll be watching. I think we put him off, but guys like that don’t give up easy.”
“Where will we go?”
“Conundrum.”
“Isn’t that where the Sinners are based?”
He leaned down, nuzzled her neck. “It’s the only place you’ll be safe. Black Jacks can’t cross the border without risking death. Sinners own the cops since we got Deputy Sheriff Benson on our payroll and a coupla others, so they don’t do much except handle civilian problems and petty crime. We’ll lie low until I’m ready to move. I got some ideas about how we can spend the time.”
“I thought your plan was using me as bait,” she said dryly. “That’s not going to work if the Black Jacks can’t get to me.”
Holt’s face tightened, and he pulled her into his chest. “I got a new plan. One that doesn’t put you in danger and keeps you close.”
“Lucky me.”
A slow smile spread across Holt’s face. “You are lucky, ’cause once we find a place to stay, we’re gonna pick up where we left off, and this time no one’s gonna interrupt us.”
FOURTEEN
TANK
“What the hell happened to you the other night?” Banks handed Tank a beer, raising his voice above the roar of the crowd as Rider’s house band took to the stage. “Never saw you drink so much before. I went to find someone to take you home, but when I turned around you were gone.”
Tank put the bottle to his lips trying to come up with a suitable lie. After being warned off Ella, he could hardly tell Banks he had spent the night with her, albeit he couldn’t remember anything. He’d been drunk before. Hell, he’d spent the years before he met T-Rex half cut. But he’d never passed out. Never lost his memory. Never fucked a woman and not remembered it the next day. Something was definitely off about that night. And the worst thing was, he didn’t even know if he’d said anything that could get him into trouble with the club.
“Don’t remember much.” The cold bitter liquid slid over his tongue, grounding him in the moment, a contrast to the surreal feeling of waking up alone in an utterly pristine, ultra modern white room. At first he thought he’d died and gone to fucking heaven, but T-Rex wasn’t there, and given all the bad shit he’d done in his life, he knew the place he was going would be colored red. And yet, it had to be hell, ’cause why didn’t he remember doing such a hot babe, why were his clothes still on, and why was he all alone?
Maybe that’s how it was with smart women. They didn’t get all emotional about sex. They were busy with their work, and although they enjoyed cutting loose, it didn’t mean they were looking for more than a good time. Although he didn’t know if she’d enjoyed their night together because he’d drunk himself into a fucking coma.
“Well, at least you got away from Ella,” Banks said. “I heard some shit about her that would make even the toughest dude turn and run. She’s fucking merciless when it comes to getting a story. There’s nothing she won’t do.”
“Yeah, lucky me.” He took another sip of his beer. If she was only after a story, why the hell did she invite him home after he’d made it clear he wasn’t about to share any information about the club? Had he missed something? He’d never been with a smart woman before. Maybe because smart women were attracted to smart men. Tank loved mechanics, tinkering with engines and machines, and fixing his bike, but he had no formal training or education. Sure he was loyal, strong, brave, and a damned good shot, but he had nothing to offer a woman like Ella.
Jagger joined them at the bar, and Banks poured him a shot of Scotch.
“Good to see you kicking back, brother.” Jagger lifted his glass to Tank. “These are hard times, and sometimes you gotta step back and have a bit of fun.” His glaze flicked to former Deputy Sherriff Benson, now a lowly prospect, wiping tables in the corner, and an evil smile spread across his face. “Prospect.” He waved Benson over, and Tank’s mood lifted as Benson hauled ass across the bar. He hoped Jagger kept Benson as a permanent prospect. There was nothing as entertaining as watching the former Deputy Sheriff doing all the grunt work for the club when only three months earlier he had the power to lock them up.
“Sir.” Benson pressed his lips together in grim anticipation of the humiliating task Jagger had in store for him.
“Hold the bottle. Fill my glass—” Jagger cut himself off and frowned. “Why did Gunner let that girl into the bar? No way is she legal.”
Tank looked up as Gunner led a pretty, young blonde with fire-red nails through the bar. He figured she was eighteen at the most, but her eyes suggested someone much older.