The Rooftop was a forty-minute drive, but it was one of Hayden’s favorite places. It was a two-story club with loud techno music downstairs, but upstairs was more laidback. Then, true to its name, the rooftop bar had a view of the city with soft jazz playing in the background, and the patrons didn’t have to yell to be heard.
“I’d like that. Have you eaten? Because I’m starving.”
“That’s what happens when you hole up in there all night.” Kyllian pointed at the door Hayden had just exited. Hayden rolled his eyes, refusing to take the bait.
“Yes, but I finished, so tomorrow I can put the tank on and get the bike ready for delivery.”
“I can’t wait to see the finished product. It’s going to be your best one yet.” Kyllian drained his beer and tossed the bottle in the recycling bin.
“I was just thinking that same thing. Not because I did it, but because of the subject.” The airbrush design was one of the best he’d ever done, if he did say so himself. The biker who ordered it had requested a rendition of his sister who’d gone missing several years ago at the age of fifteen. Photographs were the hardest to get right, but comparing the artwork on the tank to the picture he had blown up and used as a guide, he’d nailed it. Hayden couldn’t imagine what the man was going through. Considering he lived near the Mexican border, Hayden had a feeling the girl had been kidnapped and trafficked.
Hayden had shared the photo with Kyllian when the job first came in. “I took extra time on it because I wanted it to be perfect for the client. I can’t imagine losing you or one of the others and never knowing what happened. That shit has to eat away at a person.”
“I feel ya. But if that were one of us, we’d tear the world apart looking. Now, come on. Let’s get out of here. As to your earlier question, no, I didn’t eat. I was waiting on you.”
“You want to pick something up to eat and take it to mine, or you want to go somewhere?”
Kyllian rubbed his hand together. “Go somewhere. I was thinking The Villa.”
Hayden grinned. “I should have known. You have on your pasta shirt.”
Kyllian frowned. “My fucking what?”
“Your pasta shirt.” Hayden flicked his brother’s collar. “You wear it every time you eat Italian. I figured it was so the sauce blends in when you inevitably spill it.”
Kyllian cuffed Hayden on the back of the head. “Fuck you. I do not.”
“Bet. I’ll call Rory right now.”
“You wanna bet me? Seriously?”
“Fuck yeah, I do. I bet you a new tattoo of my choosing in the location I choose.”
“And I bet you a new piercing in the location I fucking choose. Call her.”
Hayden pulled out his phone and dialed their mom. “Hey, Baby. Everything okay?” Rory asked when she picked up.
“Hey, Mom. Everything’s fine. But I have a question. If I told you Kayos and I were going to eat Italian, what would he be wearing?”
“His maroon button-up.”
Hayden cracked up at the same time Kyllian groaned. “I’m never wearing this fucking shirt again.”
“Uh oh. Did someone lose a bet?” Rory knew her kids. All eleven of them.
“He sure did.” Hayden turned the phone toward his brother and snapped a picture, then sent it to Rory. “Thanks, Mom. Love you.”
“I love you both. Enjoy The Villa.” Rory’s knowing laughter came through the speaker before she disconnected.
“Fuck, are we that predictable?” Kyllian asked, scowling.
“Nah. Well, maybe you are.” Hayden jumped out of the way before his brother’s fist could connect with Hayden’s ribs.
After going home and showering, Hayden dressed in a blue shirt that Lucy said made his eyes pop. Hayden never understood that saying, and when he told her he didn’t want it to look like his eyes were popping out of their sockets, his niece had laughed a good three minutes before explaining what it meant. It had been months since he and Kyllian had gone anywhere, and riding the backroads together was like a balm to his soul. He might not have a female to go home to at night, but he had his brother. His best friend. At least for one night.
They didn’t look at their menus once they were seated. Dinner was predictable, with Kyllian getting spaghetti with extra meatballs, while Hayden ordered fettuccine with blackened chicken. Neither brother was a big wine drinker, but when they ate at The Villa, they each ordered one glass with dinner. It was something Ryker had taught them when they began training as mercenaries. Their older brother was not only their MC Pres, but he also led the family business. Now that Hayden had joined the fray, all five brothers were trained assassins. Hayden had only been on a few jobs. He had his customizing business to keep him busy, and he could ask top dollar for the work he did. But Hay wanted to help with the mercenary business too. It was what his family did outside of taking down The Ministry – the cult responsible for the apocalypse some thirty years ago.
Ryker tried to talk Hayden out of joining his brothers taking merc work, but Hayden needed to be included. Maybe it was because he was the baby of the family. He’d always looked up to his father and older brothers, and he wanted to be like them from a young age. Ryker finally relented and trained Hayden. In doing so, he taught Hayden how to blend in with any group of people. Part of being a good assassin was studying the mark. Getting close enough to whomever he was supposed to kill without getting caught. Not always looking like a roughneck biker. Little things like knowing which wine to order with dinner. What makeup to use to cover the tattoos when he needed to look like every other male in the room. When a suit and tie was appropriate instead of his normal jeans and a tee. Hell, Hayden even had a couple cardigan sweaters that aided in his boy-next-door persona.
Being Gryphons, they usually took out their marks up close with their claws instead of sitting on a rooftop across the street using a rifle. Hayden learned all about where CCTV cameras were located and how to avoid them. He now knew how to pick locks. He was proud of the work he did customizing bikes and the awards he’d won doing so, but the only time he’d felt prouder of himself was when Ryker gave Hayden his first solo assignment. Building a bike from the floor up was something he was good at, and he felt a sense of accomplishment after each one was handed off. Taking out the scum of the earth? That was a sense of rightness. Being a Gryphon was all about protecting humans, so being a mercenary was a step above being a shifter.
It was after eleven by the time they arrived at The Rooftop. They strolled through the front door after paying the cover charge. The first floor was already filled with bodies dancing and grinding. Kyllian led the way, and even with the tight crowd, people parted like the Red Sea, moving out of his brother’s way. Now that Ryker had found love with Rhiannon, Kyllian had taken over the roll as broodiest brother. He was like a chameleon, though. Kyllian had always been serious, but he could change his visage to be whatever he needed in the moment. In that moment, he needed to be a bull, charging through the throngs of dancers and partiers to make it unscathed to the stairway.
If Hayden had been alone, he would have stopped to speak to every female who tried to get their attention no matter how much the synthesized music got on his nerves. He would have stopped, not to get into bed with them all, but because he was a nice guy. Too nice most of the time. It was the one thing that had kept Ryker from training him for so long. He had been afraid Hayden didn’t have the stomach for “wet work.” Hay had no problem ending the life of a criminal. He did take issue with someone being a dick for no good reason. In ignoring the females, Kyllian wasn’t being a dick; he just knew Hayden preferred the quieter atmosphere on the roof, and he didn’t waste time getting them up there. As soon as they walked out onto the open floor, Hayden was glad his brother had taken lead. Hayden seriously hated techno music.