Emmett had a grease rag in his hand but he shook his head. “Figured you’d show up here eventually.”
“I’m that predictable, huh?” After years of friendship, Emmett seemed to have this sixth sense about where he could find me. Like last night, when he’d tracked me down to a bar about five miles out of town. I’d needed to get drunk but hadn’t wanted to go to The Betsy—the scene of the crime.
“Want a beer?” Dash asked.
“Yeah.” Maybe it would help me through this hangover. I followed Dash and Emmett into the garage, welcomed by the scent of metal and oil. After the club had disbanded, this garage had become a second home. It was all the real family I had left.
“I’ll grab ’em.” Dash strode through the shop, disappearing through the door that led to the office where we kept a fridge.
“Thanks for the ride last night,” I told Emmett.
“No problem.” He clapped one of his large hands on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
Dash returned with three bottles, and after twisting off the top and chugging a long swallow, he settled on one of the rolling stools.
I walked to the far wall, leaning against a tool bench. My first sip of beer tasted like piss, but that was to be expected given how much I’d had last night. After ten, I’d stopped counting.
Emmett had found me by that point. He hadn’t asked any questions about Cass. He’d simply stood by my side while I’d proceeded to get hammered.
“How’d you get my bike to my place?” I asked Emmett.
“The blonde. She drove my truck. I rode your bike.”
“Ah. Again, thanks.” I lifted my beer in a salute, then took another drink. “What are you guys up to today?”
“Talking,” Dash answered.
“About the Warriors?”
He shook his head. “About you.”
“Spare me a lecture today, all right, Dash?” I shoved off the workbench. Maybe the garage wasn’t the right spot for me today. I’d go home and find something to paint there instead.
“Wait.” He held up a hand.
I glanced at the open bay door but stayed put. As much as I didn’t want to hear this, it was either now or at work tomorrow. And if I waited until tomorrow, Presley would be here too. After the exchange at the coffee shop, she’d shred me to ribbons.
Her lectures about spending less time at The Betsy and avoiding hookups with randoms were getting old. She didn’t realize that I’d slowed down with the women, not because of her lecturing but because meaningless sex had gotten old. Not something I felt like explaining—she was like a sister and my sex life was none of her business.
Pres meant well, but that didn’t make her lectures less exhausting to hear. Especially since Dash seemed to take her side more often than not.
Did he forget that not too long ago, before he’d met Bryce, he’d been on the barstool next to mine? Who the hell was he to judge?
It hadn’t been a problem when we’d all been in the club. Grown men, older than me, had partied every night at the clubhouse. There had been more booze and more women too. Why was it an issue when it was at The Betsy?
“We’re on your side, Leo,” Dash said.
“Are you?”
“You know we are.” He frowned and took a drink of his beer. “Just worried.”
“Don’t be. I’m good.”
He opened his mouth, like he was going to say something else, but Emmett spoke first. “About Cass.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I raised the bottle to my lips.
“You two had a hell of a blowout last night.”
“Yeah,” I grumbled. I’d lost my fucking mind and forgotten that everyone had been listening from Luke and Scarlett’s deck.
“How’d you leave things?” Dash asked.
Not well. “Ran into her at the coffee shop this morning. Told her I wanted a paternity test.”
Dash and Emmett both cringed.
“Put yourself in my shoes. You’d want one too. Why is everyone so sure she’s telling the truth?”
“Maybe because she is,” Emmett muttered.
I flipped him off.
“You need to talk to her, Leo,” Dash said. “After the kidnapping, she went back to Missoula. I figured she’d stay there. Luke said she’s going to school. But it sounds like she’s moving home.”
Because she was pregnant. That word was the reason I was hungover. “I’ll figure it out.”
“She’s tied to you now,” Emmett said. “Which makes her tied to the club.”
“There is no club.”
Dash’s glare was like a flamethrower. “We’re still brothers.”
“What’s your point?” I pinched the bridge of my nose. This headache was going nowhere.
“You need to keep an eye out for her. Like we talked about yesterday, before she showed at the barbeque, the Warriors might still be a threat. We have no idea if and how they’ll retaliate.”
Christ. This just got more and more complicated.
After Scarlett and Cass had been kidnapped, the FBI had raided the Warrior clubhouse in Ashton. Between the kidnapping and a video that Scarlett had captured on her phone when she’d spent some time at the Warrior clubhouse with an ex, the feds had gathered enough to obtain a warrant.
The Warriors were finished. Most faced prison sentences, even a few members who’d once been Gypsies. Traitors. Some of the minor players had been released on bond, but none of them had the balls to call the shots.
It was unlikely that we’d ever hear from them again.
But . . . there was a chance. And we had family members on the line. We wouldn’t drop our guard and risk a wife getting hurt. Or a child.
I had a new stake in this game, didn’t I?
My head began to swim, and I set my beer aside as the world tipped upside down. The air was too thin and my pulse roared in my ears.
“Leo.”
Emmett’s voice was wrong. Muted. Distant.
“Breathe.” A strong hand landed on my shoulder, forcing me to bend. “Head between your knees. Breathe.”
I closed my eyes and dragged in a breath. Then another. Then another. Over and over until the floor righted itself and the white spots cleared from my vision.
When I looked up, Dash’s hand was still on my shoulder and the understanding in his eyes made me feel like a fucking tool.
“I can’t have a kid,” I whispered, then dropped to my ass, leaning against the drawers of the tool chest and raking my hands through my hair.
Dash crouched in front of me. “You can. You are.”
“I’m not made for this.”
“I get it. I went through the same damn thing when Bryce got pregnant.”
“What do I do?”
“Talk to Cass. She’s probably as freaked as you are, if yesterday’s fight was anything to go by.”
I nodded and gulped more air.
Then Emmett was there, at my side and handing me my beer. “Let’s work on something for a while. Hit the booth or tinker on a bike. Enjoy a Sunday at the shop, just the three of us. Like old times.”
“There’s that ’73 Firebird in the back lot,” Dash said. “It’s just sitting there. We could roll it in and see what she’s gonna take.”