SL said there wasn’t, but he hadn’t said shit about Grim either, and I got it. Loyalty went to the men you’d known all your fucking life.
Unless they were morons.
Unless they were upsetting the apple cart.
Unless they were threatening a good thing.
That was when you took the dipshits aside and made them see the error of their ways for their own safety.
Since Christmas, we’d diversified our portfolio to the extent that it was starting to make waves in town. There were rumbles, but we’d been employing outsiders, and next on my list was another of these factories that, upon their closure, had devastated the local economy so much.
With the sheriff on our side, and next the mayor, it wouldn’t be long until people were humming about the Sinners, singing their praise, which was exactly how I wanted it. That way, when bikers ran through Coshocton from other chapters, we wouldn’t have to worry about getting our asses handed to us. That way, when we started to recruit and get bigger, the notion wouldn’t be too jarring for the local churchgoers.
It was hard to get pissy at what looked like a riding club who was intent on making your town better.
I had an end game, and I wasn’t afraid to knock every fucking pawn down in my club to make it happen.
Only when Coshocton was fooled would we be able to get the most out of the chapter. Whether that was through laundering like Rex primarily wanted, or through runs that would see brothers riding through this county to get to West Orange.
Riding off the compound, I nodded at Little in farewell. As I rumbled down the road, heading toward home, I was grateful I didn’t have to cook tonight.
Keira had softened up some lately. I wasn’t sure why, but it meant I was throwing ideas at her for the clubhouse’s renos and she wasn’t shoving them in my face.
Was it because of that date she’d been on?
It had been back in Feb but…
Had he dicked her so well that it had put a fucking smile on her face that lasted months? I didn’t think so because she hadn’t seen him again. Jump would have told me.
As of right now, all she was doing was heading to work, the middle school, Cyan’s gym, the store, and home—mixing it up by heading over to MaryCat and Digger’s place. Rinse, lather, and repeat for the last six weeks, at least.
While I didn’t know what was making her soften up, I was grateful for it. It even put a smile on my face as I rode toward the subdivision, where the guard already had the gates open for me, and I saluted him as I drove through, grateful for the lack of delay because I just wanted to get my ass home.
The days were getting a little longer, but the sky was already starting to darken, so I took advantage of the remaining light and headed into the garage and pulled out the lawnmower. Maybe that’d work some of the aggression out of my system that was still there after that non-starter fight with Grim.
When K and Cy rolled up forty or so minutes later, I was well aware that Keira studied me from the driver’s seat, well aware that she’d always loved watching me do menial tasks.
Was that why I kept doing shit like this? Trying to get her wet? Trying to remember the good times we’d had together?
Her stare, this time, was prolonged, heavy. I felt it arc between us like a livewire.
I only looked away when Cy waved at me before she let out a whoop, dumped her bag on the ground, then took a running jump on the grass. She leaped into a double salto, the second one morphing into a decent twist, before she landed, then immediately bounced into a sideways salto.
Flecks of mowed grass fluttered around her feet as she pretty much danced from one side of the yard to the other, and I shook my head at her antics, laughing when she let loose a warbling cry worthy of a warrior on a battlefield.
"Thought Coach told you not to pull those moves out of the gym," I pointed out as I shut off the mower. "You could sprain your wrist on uneven ground."
She grinned at me. "Perfect tens don’t come easy, Daddy."
I snorted—my kid didn’t have self-confidence issues when she was contorting her body into shapes that’d make a fucking acrobat wince.
Maybe all those hours spent in a goddamn armchair with a therapist were worth a damn.
Keira scooped down and picked up her purse from the footwell of the passenger seat before she headed for the door with a massive paper bag in the other hand.
Leaving the lawnmower where it was, I moved toward her, scooped it out of her arms, then went ahead.
Neither of us really greeted each other, but sometimes, there wasn’t shit to say. Today was one of those days.
I headed into the kitchen, dumped all the stuff on the island, then murmured, "I’ll be outside. I just need to finish the sides."
Cyan skipped into the family room, the TV her end destination, and as I made to move out into the hall, Keira’s hand snatched my arm. Her fingers looped around my wrist, and she tugged me to a halt. When she did, I peered down at her.
"What is it?"
She drifted onto tiptoe, then reached up and smoothed her fingers along the crown of my head. "You’ve got a bruise there."
I didn’t answer, but my jaw clenched as I tried not to close my eyes so I could savor the feel of the pads of her fingers smoothing over the bruise in a delicate caress.
Christ, she hadn’t touched me, not really, since the day I’d learned about Bear’s death.
Hands balling into fists, I rumbled, "Sometimes, men only understand shit when they get bruised."
Her brow puckered. "You got into a fight? Dammit, Storm, how are we going to discourage Cyan from getting into fights if you’re doing it too?"
"Prefer me to get my ass shot?"
Her eyes flared. "Don’t even joke about that."
"I wasn’t," I countered, a part of me wondering if she’d even care if I did die. Not that I said that, just admitted, "My position at the club ain’t exactly stable."
"Why? I thought things were going okay. MaryCat says Digger’s been accepted by the guys."
"I’m not Digger. Neither am I making much of an effort to get to know the men.
"My ass is staying out of the bar, and I ain’t attending parties or shit like that. Plus, my family stays pretty much to themselves." I shrugged. "Ain’t complaining, just saying that it’s hard for them not to feel like we’re outsiders when that’s exactly what we are."
She winced. "Do you think we should come up to the clubhouse? Have a party or something for the kids?"
"You’d be willing to do that?" I questioned, tipping my head to the side in surprise.
"Yeah, I would," she said huskily, her gaze on mine.
My brow furrowed as I looked at her. Really looked at her.
There were shadows under her eyes as if she hadn’t been sleeping, and her cheekbones were a little gaunter than usual.
Keira had been the same weight since she’d had Cyan, always trying to get back to her pre-baby weight and always failing. She bitched about it sometimes, but she never went up or down, just stayed her curvy self and I wasn’t about to complain.
I’d fallen for her when she was slender, but I’d never been making love to curves, had never been making love to skinny—I was just losing myself in Keira. She was all that mattered.
"What’s going on with you?" I rumbled, surprised when she let her hand move away from the crown of my head which, admittedly, was tender to the touch thanks to my collision with Grim’s nose, but instead of pulling away entirely, she dropped it to my shoulder.