“Doesn’t matter. You can drive home if you need to. I won’t drink a lot.”
“I feel like we need to always be on alert with Pat Lamone out there. And those photos…”
“We may have the photos. We’ve got the thumb drive from that box we found.”
“We can’t depend on that, Ror.” She shakes her head. “You know, if you weren’t a few days over eighteen, I’d actually want him to publish the damned photos. Heck, he doesn’t even need to publish them. Just possession of nude photos of minors can get him on child porn charges.”
“Well, he’s in possession of yours. We can still get him.”
“No. I can’t take that chance. If he knows you were over eighteen, he could still publish yours and not risk any fallout. Except for a lawsuit from us, which we can’t afford.”
“Once you marry Donny, I guess you could afford it.”
“Wait… Are you saying you want me to get him charged? Because I’m not sure we can. They’re not in his possession. They’re in ours.”
“But we didn’t take them. We can tell Hardy what happened.”
“We can’t. Not without any evidence that he took them and buried them. I’m just not sure it will work.”
“Well, you’re the legal expert.” My heart falls a bit. It would almost be worth it to have my naked body all over the internet to get Pat Lamone put away for child porn.
We stay silent for the rest of the ride, until Callie finds a parking spot about a block away from Murphy’s.
We walk inside, and—
Brock Steel is sitting at the bar with a woman I don’t recognize. She has dark hair and blue eyes, and she’s flat-chested.
I can’t help a little sliver of gratitude at that.
I may not be able to wear button-down shirts like Callie, but every eye is on me when I walk into a bar.
And, of course, the only two available seats at the bar are right next to Brock and his lady.
Callie smirks at me. Yeah, I get it. It’s her way of telling me I’m seeing Brock in his natural habitat.
Am I surprised? No. I know who Brock Steel is. After all, I’m the one who coined the term Rake-a-teer. The Three Rake-a-teers—Donny Steel, Brock Steel, and Dave Simpson.
Correction—they’re now the two Rake-a-teers, since Callie snagged Donny and made an honest man out of him.
I suppose it’s too much to hope that I could make an honest man out of Brock Steel.
I shake my head slightly. No time to have thoughts like that. Brock is a sperm donor, nothing more. Make that a potential sperm donor. I’m not interested in a relationship with him.
No. Not at all. That slight sliver of jealousy at seeing him with no-boobs? That’s nothing. It’s purely physical because I made out with him earlier, because I’m thinking about asking him to father my child.
Yeah. That’s all it is.
I scan the rest of the bar quickly. Jesse and his bandmates are in the back playing pool. They don’t look like they’ve just beaten anyone to a pulp, thank God. I rush toward him, grab his arm as he’s about to move his cue, and pull him away from the crowd.
“What was that for, Rory? I had the right angle and everything.”
“I want to make sure you didn’t go after Lamone.”
“No, I didn’t. Cooler heads have prevailed. For tonight at least.”
“Good. Please, Jess. Just stay out of it.”
“I will.”
“What stopped you?”
“I couldn’t… I just couldn’t tell Cage and the others about what went down. That the bastard has those photos. You and Callie are my sisters.”
“Right. Though I’m sure you could have made something up.”
“I thought about it. I won’t lie.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t want you getting arrested for this. Anything happens to Lamone, and this whole thing will blow up in our faces.”
“I know. It’s just…” He squeezes his fist around his cue stick, his knuckles whitening. “I hate that motherfucker. I hate him with everything in me.”
“Believe me. So do I.”
Jesse glances toward the bar. “Callie’s gesturing to you.”
I nod. “Got it. And Jess?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“For what? Not kicking Lamone’s ass?”
“Yeah. And also for wanting to.” I squeeze his arm and then head to the bar, just as Brendan sidles over to take our drink order.
“Just a Diet Coke for me, Brendan,” Callie says. “What do you want, Ror?”
“I think I’ll have a beer. Fat Tire.”
“You got it, ladies.”
I pull out my credit card and hand it to Brendan. “Start a tab for us.”
“Will do.” He takes my credit card, slides it through his machine, and then hands it back to me. “Drinks’ll be right up.”
“I assume all is okay with Jess?” Callie says.
I nod. “He let it go. For now, anyway.”
“Maybe I should go back and say hi.”
“Hi to whom?” I say nonchalantly. “Maddie? She’s back there hanging all over Dave and Dragon Locke.”
“And Jesse is shooting darts out of his eyes.”
“Yeah, I guess we don’t need to worry about our baby sis.” I slide my glance, as nonchalantly as I can, to the woman sitting on my other side.
She’s quite attractive in an unassuming, no-chest kind of way.
“He saw us walk in,” Callie whispers. “He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
“Why should I care?” I shrug.
“Right.”
Brendan slides our drinks in front of us, and I take a deep sip of my beer, letting it warm my throat.
“Hey, Rory.”
Brock Steel’s voice glides over me like warm chocolate. All the Steel men have deep voices, but Brock’s is sex on a stick.
Sex on a chocolate-and-caramel stick. With sprinkles.
He’s leaning forward, the brown-haired woman still sitting between us.
I take another sip of my beer and then lean forward myself to meet his gaze. “Brock.”
“This is Sadie,” Brock says. “Sadie… Sorry. I don’t know your last name.”
Sadie smiles—a great big one, showcasing perfectly straight pearly whites. “Sadie McCall.”
“Sadie McCall,” Brock says. “This is Rory Pike.”
Sadie holds out her hand. “Charmed.”
“Nice to meet you.” I shake her hand. “This is my sister Callie.”
Callie stands to shake Sadie’s hand, but then she takes a seat back on her stool.
Now what?
“Any of you ladies feel like a game of pool?” Brock asks.
Sadie quickly downs what appears to be the rest of a martini and jumps off her stool. “Me. I’d love a game.”
Good enough. Let them go play. I don’t care. I came here with my sister, to celebrate her engagement. Not to commiserate over the shitstorm that has roared into our lives. And certainly not to erupt into jealousy over Brock Steel and a new girl.
Callie should be happy. Over the moon. Her orange sapphire ring sparkles on her left hand. She’s engaged. Not just engaged to anyone, but to a Steel.