He shrugged. “It’s just a book on cages.”
I frowned. “Cars? Why? You hate cars.”
“Good money working on them. Figured if I became licensed to work on them too…” His words ran off, and I stared at him in confusion.
“Then, what?”
“I dunno. Just, it would bring more money in.”
There was something there I definitely wasn’t picking up on. Saint had been raised by Wheels, the dude everyone went to for a tune up on their bikes. If Wheels was good, Saint was even better because he’d learned at the master’s hand and had a great touch.
The whole cage thing?
“I’m confused. What’s wrong with the money you’re bringing in now? It’s good, isn’t it?”
He shrugged, turning his face away to his sandwich.
Doubly confused now, because there wasn’t much he wouldn’t share with me—and that had been before we’d become so intimate—I asked, “Is everything okay, love? I mean, you’re not in debt, are you?”
He snorted at that, then cut me a wry look. “No, babe. I’m not in debt.”
“So why are you worrying about money then?”
“I’m just…” Saint winced. “I’ll have to go on some runs—you know a few a year are mandatory—but I can stop volunteering for them.”
I blinked at him. “You want to learn how to fix cars to supplement the income you’ll lose by not going on as many runs?”
Brothers who took part in the most perilous part of delivering the products the MC sold received a better cut—danger pay.
When he shrugged again, I knew I had it right, and hell, if it didn’t make my heart go BOOM.
I curled my arms around his waist and snuggled into him. “Thank you.”
He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”
That Saint had listened, and was actually acting on what I’d told him, even though I hadn’t asked him to make any changes to his life at all? Well, it told me exactly what I meant to him.
“You heading to the parlor with us?” Ink asked, as he strolled into the kitchen. That he didn’t even lift a brow at us as he walked in told me how accustomed to sharing they were all becoming, but my fuck up in the shower also proved that they were still vulnerable and insecure in ways that only I could resolve.
I’d need to work on that.
And making stupid goddamn jokes at inappropriate moments wasn’t the way to achieve that.
Dumbass, Ama, I chided myself. Dumbass.
“Yeah, I’m scheduled on Ama watch anyway.”
I rolled my eyes. “Because I need two brothers watching over me. I’m not even in danger, am I? After what went down with the Knights, isn’t the threat to the club and not to individuals?”
“Hell knows where the cops are concerned,” Ink commented. “You’re an adult now, Ama. Last thing I want is you tied up in any of the shit we pull.”
“The suckiest part of growing up,” Saint said wistfully. “Being old enough to be tried as an adult.”
“Shut up, asshole,” Ink grumbled as he poured some coffee from the pot. “Don’t frighten Ama.”
I frowned—did he really think that was frightening?
Jeez. They seriously thought I was a wuss, didn’t they?
“I’m not frightened.” Hell, it took a damn sight more than that to frighten me. “I’d prefer to not be in the dark, that’s all.”
“You know we can’t tell you everything,” Ink said pointedly, staring at me over his mug.
“Don’t see why not. My momma knows most things that go down, doesn’t she?”
“That’s because Lucie has bigger balls than most men,” Saint inserted dryly. “Plus, she brought—”
I sighed when he broke off. “The ghost guns, yeah, I know about that. Jesus. Do you think because I have breasts I can’t hear things?”
Ink scowled. “We don’t—”
“Yeah, you must, because I know for a fact that we just lost around three hundred grand thanks to the cops netting that last run, and I also know that a ghost gun is worth two thousand dollars. So there.” I blew him a raspberry—childish, maybe. But sheesh.
Ink rolled his eyes. “Well, you know all the pertinent information then, don’t you? Why don’t you petition your father for his seat at the table?”
I laughed. “I’d make an epic Prez. Pretty tattoos for everyone and afternoon naps as a standard.” When both men sniggered, I grinned. “Anyway, the cops aren’t going to hurt me. Aren’t they supposed to be the good guys?”
Ink snorted. “Some are good, some ain’t so much.”
“That’s a very cynical way of looking at it.”
“Your granddaddy’s been bribing a ton of them up in Fort Hancock, baby girl. They sound like good guys? That’s the trouble. Knowing who to trust.”
Because he wasn’t shutting the conversation down, and had, in fact, leaned back into the counter like he was settling in for a chat, I asked, “What’s Kenzie got to do with it?”
He cut Saint a look behind me and sighed. “Neither of you are supposed to know this. We haven’t held full church in days because of this shit.”
I shrugged. “We’re family.”
“Exactly why you shouldn’t know. Plausible deniability.”
Sniffing, I told him, “I’m Lucifer’s daughter and granddaughter. I think I can tell some white lies when I need to.”
“Hardly white ones,” Saint answered. “More like great big, dirty gray ones.”
I shrugged. “Don’t care. I want to know. I can handle it, Ink. Trust me, I can. I wouldn’t say it if I couldn’t.”
He released a breath. “Your granddaddy thinks she’s a plant.”
Well, I was assuming he wasn’t talking a houseplant…
“Rodeo didn’t raise a snitch,” was all I could think to say to that.
Saint curved his arm around my waist. “Stop thinking the best of people. Especially bitches like that one. Jesus. All Kenzie is is mean to you.”
I shrugged. “She’s Keys’ sister. I have to be nice to her. She’s family.”
Saint laughed slightly. “You little minx. You’ve been planning this for years, ain’tcha? In your mind, she’s been your sister-in-law for a while, am I right?”
I shot him a smirk over my shoulder. “Of course. But, I’m not being nice for the sake of it. I know she’s a bitch, but I’m not defending her—I’m defending Rodeo.”
Ink shook his head. “You didn’t know Rodeo, babe. Not like me or your daddies.”
I scowled at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” He ran a hand over his face. “Keys doesn’t know any of this because his momma and daddy made sure of it. But the cancer that took her, it had already hit her twice. Each time, Rodeo went off the rails. Did shit I know he regrets, but regretting don’t take back the crap he did.”
“Like what?” I queried gruffly. I had fond memories of Rodeo, and really should have gone to visit him but he was in an out-of-state prison and me and out-of-town didn’t work in the same sentence, never mind state.