I take another drag of the cigarette, letting the nicotine flood my veins, then smash it out in the ashtray, and make a cup of coffee. Barefoot, and shirtless, I carry the mug out to join her. Stopping next to her chair, I brush my palm over the top of her head and hold the mug out to her.
“Thanks.” She cups it in her hands and brings the steamy rich drink to her lips. My eyes move around the yard she’s fixed up. All the weeds are gone, and there are flowers growing along the fence. She’s also got a couple of pots of flowering plants sitting on the stone tile patio I didn’t know I had. I hear birds chattering and spot them out by a stone birdbath at the back of the property.
“It’s peaceful out here,” I say quietly. It reminds me of the way her music made me feel last night. Calm. Serene. Tranquil.
“It is.”
I brush my hand over her hair again. “You like it here?” When the question leaves my lips, I’m not sure I’m only talking about the garden.
Maybe sensing that, she tilts her head to look at me. We stare into each other’s eyes, sharing the quiet moment. “I do.”
Her gaze drops to my chest and she lifts her hand, the back of her fingers lightly grazing along the trail of hair from my belly button to where it disappears into my unfastened jeans.
She shifts and leans forward, pressing a light kiss to the spot, and I cup the back of her head. My fingers thread into her hair. It’s like spun silk, and I let it sift through my hand. “Meant what I said last night.”
Our eyes connect.
“I’ll always be here for you,” I promise again.
She stands, setting the mug aside.
I cup her face with my palms, my thumb stroking over her plump bottom lip. The image of her lips wrapped around my cock last night pops in my head. Then I dip my head and fit our mouths together.
When I pull back, her eyes drop to my throat. “I’m eighteen now.”
“You are. Feel different?”
“Yes, but my age has nothing to do with it. That’s all you.”
I watch her, because if feels like she has more to say.
“Saint?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Mary Elizabeth offered to let me come stay with her.”
My stomach sinks like a rock. “That what you want?”
She shrugs, her eyes filling with tears. “That was our deal, wasn’t it?”
“It was.” I stroke her cheekbone with my thumb. “Stay.” Her eyes widen. Is it hope I see?
“You mean that? You want me?”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “Sweetheart, I’ll always want you.”
We stare at each other, and I can see in her eyes, she’s wondering the same thing I am. But is it enough?
I clear my throat and change the subject. “Want to go visit your mom today?”
She squeals and flings her arms around me. “Yes!”
I grin, and push her back. “Go get ready.”
She stares up at me, happy tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now move.” I swat her ass and she runs in the house. I watch her go. I meant it when I asked her to stay. But what happens now, I haven’t a clue.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Saint—
The following Friday, I drop into a chair by Sly’s desk, my knee bouncing as he sits. He appraises me, and I shift in my seat under his penetrating gaze. I remind myself he’s been in this club for decades, and was one of those involved in taking over the club and turning it into the MC it is today.
“You done with the lies?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It happens again, you’re finished, understand?”
I nod.
“Women can fuck with a man’s head.” He lifts his chin toward the rest of the clubhouse. “We’ve all been there.”
“I want my patch. Kami won’t get in the way of that. I promise.”
“It’s not her getting in the way, I’m worried about. It’s the lying. This is all about trust. Can I fucking trust you, Saint?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, we’re about to find out.”
I stay calm on the outside, but his words jolt me, because I have no idea what’s coming.
He looks down at the desk, tapping his knuckles on the wood. When he looks up, I see the seriousness in his eyes. “I need you to do the pickups alone this weekend. Think you can handle it?”
“Yeah, sure. Of course.” I cover my shock well, but inside my mind is racing because this is not normal. From everything I’ve observed, letting a prospect handle that much money is out of the question. Does this mean I’ve all but earned my patch in his eyes? In the club’s eyes? Hope flares inside me.
He wraps his knuckles again. “Good. Just want you to be clear. This is a big deal.”
No shit.
He runs a hand over his jaw like he’s struggled with this decision. “This isn’t something I’d usually do, but I’m in a spot. Got some tricky shit we’ve got to deal with and it has to be this weekend. There’s no patch we can spare for this.” He drills me with his eyes. “So, I’m gonna put my faith in you here. Don’t fuck this up and make me look bad.”
“I won’t. I promise you.”
“There’s a chance we won’t be back in town Monday. So, I may need you to make the deposit. It’s gotta be in the bank first thing Monday, so you’ll need to drop it in the night deposit. I’ll give you the bags and deposit slips. That money gets split up between three banks. Never more than ten grand in any one bank. Less than five if we can manage it. Divide it as equal as you can.”
I nod. “Got it.”
“I’m gonna call and check the deposits are made the moment the banks opens. Goes without sayin’, but I’m gonna say it anyway, just so we’re crystal clear. You fuck this up; you’re done. You can kiss that patch goodbye.”
“I won’t fuck it up.”
He pulls out a stack of three deposit bags, laying them on the corner of his desk. He digs in the drawer and holds a single key out to me. “Key to my office. You get the money and bring it back here to divide up. If Centerfolds is less than ten grand, Aspen might have a bag ready for you, the deposit slip already filled out.”
“Okay.”
“You’re one penny short, I’ll kill you myself, and I don’t give a fuck what your buddy, Ruin says.”
I guess Ruin went to bat for me. I nod slowly, swallowing. Sly’s eyes tell me he’s deadly serious with that threat.
He jerks his head to the door. “Get out of here. We’re pulling out soon.”
“Yes, sir.” I stand and head out. My head is spinning as I make my way down the hall to the main room. I spot Ruin at the bar, and take the stool next to him.
He pours himself an inch of scotch from the bottle at his elbow, then turns to look at me. “He tell you?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you handle it?”
“I can handle it,” I repeat, staring into his eyes until he knows I’ve got this rock solid.
“Good.” He stands, downs his drink and then slaps me hard on the chest. “See ya round, prospect.”