Then, all I think of is Delphine.
I think of the way she tasted, and moaned, and felt. I think of the way the world just seemed more clear with her in it, or the way something inside of me sparked like it’s never done before.
I think of how she’s mine, and I realize how true that is. She’s mine.
Not Barnes’s.
It’s not even a question of how to take her from him, it’s when. It’s how soon. Because I’m going to take her from him.
… Just as soon as I figure out how the sodding fuck I’m supposed to do that without bringing a bloody shit-storm down on my club and my brothers.
My eyes close, and I sleep like the dead.
“Rough night?”
I frown and look up from the jeep engine I’ve been tinkering with.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
Ryker chuckles. “Because it’s nicer than saying ‘you look like shit.’”
I roll my eyes and he keeps laughing. “Laugh it up.”
“Oh I plan on it.”
He snickers and walks into his office. A minute later, he steps back out and walks over to me with a steaming mug of coffee.
“It’s not tea, but…”
“Hilarious,” I grunt, grinning at him. He knows I drink coffee, it’s just one more good-natured English jab, like Bastion and Bishop calling me royal highness.
Ryker’s turned into a pretty great friend out here. In his old life, he was the President of the first version of the Lost Devils. Now, with a kid, a wife, and his own garage and business, that sort of outlaw shit just isn’t for him anymore, and I get it. Hell, I envy it. He’s not a member, but he does consult on a few things, and help guide the club if Shepherd needs it. Also, he hooked me up with a mechanic’s job at his shop, which is awesome. I mean the money is fine, not like I even need any. But the chance to get my hands dirty fixing up engines feels great after only tinkering with my own for years.
“Well, I hope she was worth it.”
I laugh, standing up from under the hood of the Jeep and sipping the coffee.
“Let me guess, I’m also not the first to say that to you today.”
“Bingo.”
“Well,” Ryker grins and shrugs, nodding at my neck. “It’s hard to miss.”
“So I’ve gathered.” I shrug and turn back to the engine, but my lips pull back in a grin. “And yeah,” I growl. “She was.”
“Hey, that’s what counts, brother,” Ryker says with a laugh before he nods his chin towards the front of the garage through the open bay doors. Outside, a black, older-model Escalade pulls up.
“What’s a douchebag like that doing up here?” he grumbles under his breath.
He’s not wrong. Whoever this clown is, his ride is complete with spinning cheesy looking rims, crappy DIY-looking tints on the windows, and when he opens the driver’s side door and the mud guards fold down, I almost laugh. Yeah, that’s a knob of a car if I ever—
Shit.
The man who steps out, slipping a backwards baseball hat down over his head, is Barnes.
Ryker rubs his hands on a grease cloth and steps towards the garage bay doors.
“How we doin’ today?”
Barnes swaggers over, and I groan. The fuck is this twat doing here?
“Hey, my man,” Barnes says with a grin. “Was just in the area and remembered I’d been meaning to get my oil changed and my tires checked out.” He shrugs. “You know, these rims don’t keep themselves spinning, right, my man?”
With every interaction I have with this complete knob-head, I have less and less clue how it is that he’s the hardest cunt Dark Water Falls has to offer.
“Anyways, I thought I’d heard of this place and thought I’d swing by.” He nods and glances around at the front of the garage. “Guess you could use the work anyways, huh?”
Ryker’s back is to me, but I would pay solid, solid quid for a front row seat to how hard he’s gritting his jaw not to knock this fucker on his arse.
“So, oil change and tire rotation?”
“You got it, boss.” Barnes frowns. “Wait, this your place?”
“Sure is.”
“Mountain Steel Motors…” Barnes nods, frowning like he’s thinking hard. I can guarantee, the geezer hasn’t thought harder than if he wants a Budweiser or a Coors in his entire life.
“That’s a bad ass name, man.”
“Thanks,” Ryker says dryly. “Listen, we’re actually pretty jammed today with other work—” he ignores Barnes’s loud snort. “But I think we can fit this in. My friend here will take care of you.”
Motherfucker. And there go my plans to skulk around the back of the shop pretending the man I owe three-hundred thousand dollars to isn’t here. Barnes squints into the garage as I step forward, but somehow, by the unsurprised way he grins, I get the feeling this stop-by isn’t accidental.
The cunt knows I work here, and as unthreatening as he is, it’s an unsettling thought.
“Well, well,” he grins. “If it isn’t my favorite Brit. You gonna be changing my oil, Gauge?”
“That’s the plan,” I growl lowly, stepping out of the garage and wiping my hands on a rag. I eye Barnes, and he just grins back.
“Awesome, dude, awesome. Hey babe!”
He turns back to the Escalade and barks it out again.
“Babe! Get out here!”
The passenger side door opens, and my brow furrows as I watch a long, lithe, tanned leg clad in denim shorts and biker boots slide out. And suddenly, there she is.
Delphine.
Our eyes lock across the small parking lot, and I see the fire blaze in hers before she quickly looks away, her cheeks pink. She’s got her hair down and a high-necked, sleeveless blouse on. And I damn well know why.
…Because her neck looks a hell of a lot like mine.
“Babe,” Barnes grins at me, waving Delphine over hurriedly. “Babe, this is the dude I was telling you about. Motherfucker tears it up at the races!”
My jaw clenches, and I glance sidelong at Ryker. Yeah, he’s still standing right there. Fucking perfect.
It’s not like my races are a big secret, it’s just that they—oh sod it, yeah, they’re a secret. Part of it is that I owe so much fucking money to a dick like Barnes. It’s the kind of black cloud I don’t feel like the club and my brothers knowing about. Ryker’s not an official member, but he’s damn well close enough.
“Babe, this is Oliver Gauge. Gauge, this is my girl, Delphine.”
“Pleasure,” I growl, nodding at her, my eyes locked on hers.
“Hey,” she says softly.
“Alright, well,” Barnes claps his hands together. “You gonna get this done or not?”
I tense my jaw as my eyes drag back to his. “Sure,” I say thinly. “Pull it into the middle bay here.”
“Thanks bro!”
I turn away, rolling my eyes as Barnes gets back in his knob-head mobile and revs it.
“None of my business,” Ryker growls lowly under his breath as he walks past me into the garage. “But does Shep—”
“You’re right, Ryker,” I say thinly. “It’s not.”