Banger laughed dryly. “Yeah… that’s not gonna happen. You take care of her, and quit making her upset.”
Banger marched away, lifted his fist up in the air to the brothers, who reciprocated, and walked out of the club. He went over to his SUV, started the engine, and headed home.
It’d been a long day, and the upcoming days would even be longer.
Switching on the windshield wipers, he drove into the darkness.
Chapter Eleven
Wheelie
Wheelie put two six-packs of Heineken and a bottle of blueberry-flavored vodka on the counter. The redheaded cashier gave him the type of smile that said she was available for more than ringing up his purchases. He grabbed several Jack Daniels shooters and pulled out his wallet.
“You look like you’re having a party,” she said, placing the bottles in a paper bag.
“How much is it?”
“I’ll let you have the shooters, so for the beer and vodka, it’s thirty-three bucks. Is it a private party?”
He counted out the bills and handed them to her. “Yeah.” With a paper bag in each arm, he walked out of the store and over to his jeep. Sofia’s gonna love the blueberry vodka. He’d remembered she’d told him that was her favorite flavored vodka on one of their many trips to Canon City. Tigger had been in prison, and it seemed like Sofia’s car always had trouble, so Wheelie had offered to take her to see Tigger.
He’d enjoyed her company during the long ride there and back. Sometimes they’d talked the whole round trip, other times they just listened to music and spoke sporadically. It seemed like those trips had pulled them close together, or at least that was the way he felt.
Resting his arms on the steering wheel, he dipped his head down until his forehead touched his wrists. What the fuck am I doing? Sofia’s a brother’s old lady. A brother he didn’t care for too much. Never had. When Wheelie had first met her at Steelers, Tigger’s arm draped around her thin shoulders, he couldn’t believe how dainty and pretty she was. With her porcelain skin, dark brown hair, and luminous green eyes, she’d looked like a china doll. She’d been wearing higher-than-hell heels that made her look taller than her five-foot-two inches, and when she laughed it’d sounded like wind chimes on a breezy spring day. He’d been blown away. And her eyes had sparkled when she’d get excited.
I’m fuckin’ playing with fire. At that moment he should be at the clubhouse eating ribs and coleslaw, then fucking a couple of club girls instead of sitting in a liquor store parking lot remembering all kinds of dangerous shit.
Lifting his head up, he saw the redhead come out and light up a cigarette. That’s who he should be spending the evening with, not a brother’s wife. Fuck! But he didn’t want to be at the clubhouse, or drinking and fucking the redhead. He wanted to be with Sofia, trying to make the sparkle in her eyes come back.
Over the years, he’d seen dullness replace the brightness her green orbs used to have, and he rarely heard her laugh. The longer she stayed with Tigger, the more weary and beaten down she became.
The redhead noticed him, waving her arm off as she bounced over. He switched on his engine and took off before she reached the vehicle.
Way before Sofia had come into the picture, Wheelie had a tense relationship with Tigger. The five-foot-ten, muscled brother loved to brag about himself to anyone who would listen. Most of the brothers ignored him, but it gripped Wheelie’s ass and he’d usually call Tigger on it, which usually ended up with them throwing punches at each other.
In Wheelie’s opinion, Tigger was a blowhard who cared more for himself than he did for the brotherhood. He’d always suspected Tigger just wanted to be part of the club because it was a chick magnet and it gave him an excuse to bash in heads. Tigger loved the way people stared at him and how intimidated they were when they saw the Insurgents patch.
Wheelie didn’t deny it fuckin’ rocked when men stepped away from him, or the way chicks cozied up to him, but he was loyal to the bone to the club. Something he didn’t think Tigger was, and he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Axe, Throttle, Jerry, and Chas voiced the same opinion, and he suspected Hawk and Bear agreed with them even though they never said anything. The difference between him and Tigger was that he’d do anything for a brother, even butt out of Sofia and Tigger’s life.
He pulled into the driveway in front of the garage. The door clanked open and he drove in. Before he’d left, she’d called and told him to park in the garage so no one would see his car. She hadn’t wanted it to get back to Tigger that she’d had a lone brother in the house.
She stood in the doorway, dressed in a fuzzy purple pullover sweater and tight blue jeans, her hair gleaming under the fluorescent lights in the garage. A sliver of excitement lit up her eyes, and he thought she’d never looked prettier.
Easy. Tigger’s an asshole, but he’s a brother. Banger will have my ass if I step over the line.
She curled up her lips, and her smile excited him more than all the nakedness of the club girls. At that moment, all thoughts of Tigger, Banger, and loyalty vanished from his head. Pausing for a long moment, he got out of the jeep, reached over and grabbed the bags, and came up to her. A hint of nutmeg, orange, and violet circled around him, and he groaned inwardly.
“You smell wonderful. Is that a new perfume?”
“Sorta. It’s super expensive, so I only wear it for special occasions.”
He ran his thumb under her bottom lip and watched her cheeks turn all shades of red. “Glad you think our time together is special, ’cause it is.” He started to dip his head down but reconsidered. If he kissed her, he’d never be able to stop. Pointing at the bag in his hand, he smiled. “I got blueberry vodka for you.”
When she took the bag from him, their fingers brushed. She quickly walked into the kitchen. “I can’t believe you remembered how much I love it. Thanks.”
“Of course. You didn’t think I tuned you out each time we drove to the pen, did you?” He winked at her and unpacked his bag, lining up the shooters on the counter.
“You want to try some?” Opening one of the cupboards, she stood on her tiptoes and reached for the glasses.
He came over and took two out, his body brushing against hers. “Here you go. And I’m good with my Jack and beer.” He walked away quickly, not trusting himself. Tossing the decorative pillows on the couch aside, he sank into the cushion and grabbed a shooter, twisting off the cap. In one fluid movement, he downed it, welcoming the burn as it traveled down his throat.
“Good?” Sofia picked up her glass and took a long drink. “This tastes so good. I haven’t had a drink like this in a long time.”
No doubt Tigger’s the reason why. He took another shot and threw it back. Tigger wouldn’t be the topic of conversation. That night it would be all about Sofia and the two of them enjoying an evening together.
“I’m going to make another.” She jumped up from the couch and walked into the kitchen, her hips swaying.