That was just as much a torture method as anything else.
I rubbed my hand down her spine, unsurprised to nudge Keys’ hand, which was on her lower back. What did surprise me, was when I felt her breathing deepen as she returned to sleep.
“She does this every night?” Saint asked somberly, and as I tilted my head on the pillow, I saw that he was staring up at the ceiling.
Out here in the boondocks, there wasn’t all that much illumination. At the clubhouse, my ceiling was painted with lights from incoming bikes. Here? It was just dark, and it felt good.
It’d been too long since I’d been out here, too long since I’d been in the silence of my home.
“Yeah. She does.”
“How do you stand it?”
“Stand what? Being woken up?” I groused, not liking his question.
“No. Not wanting to go and rip a motherfucker’s head off?”
“I did that already. Trust me, it provides me with no satisfaction now.”
Silence settled among us at that, then he questioned, “It true you were discharged for insubordination? Or is that BS?”
“I’m good at following orders, but orders that are plain wrong? Nope.” The ‘p’ popped. “I was only in for a little while. Just long enough to mess with my head some, but not long enough to do much other damage if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Nah. Was just curious.”
Keys snickered, “Who decorated your lounge, bro?”
My lips twitched. The fact that Ama had liked it said it all. “My sister. She had it ready for me when I got back from overseas. My grandparents left me this place.”
“They did?” Keys rocked up onto his elbow. “You know we barely know anything about you, right? I mean, I’m stunned you have fucking grandparents and everyone has two sets.”
“Well, I ain’t a miracle, even if Ama thinks I am,” I told them, laughing softly when they groaned. “No immaculate conception here.”
“Yeah, well, if this is gonna work, you need to tell us who you are. I know almost everything about Saint. Know shit I shouldn’t know, and crap I wish I didn’t know, and I figure it’s the same for him. I can’t be pulling this girly sleepover shit on a night with a dude who won’t tell me jack shit.”
“Eloquently put,” Saint mocked, but he didn’t argue with him, so I knew where they were coming from.
I got it. I did. But sharing and me didn’t go hand in hand.
Clearing my throat, I told him, “Can’t just reveal all my secrets in one go, now can I? Plus, we’re not the ones dating.”
He snorted. “So what? I’m sharing your bed. Even if I ain’t gonna suck your cock, I wanna know shit about the owner of said cock just because Ama is sucking it.”
“So you’re protecting her?” I wasn’t displeased by the notion.
“It’s what we do,” he retorted, and the pride in his voice pricked at me.
Enough to say, “I’ll share. Over time. Won’t hold back from either you or her. We gotta be friends, otherwise this shit won’t work.” My words turned into a rumble as I murmured, “Surprised you’re okay with this.”
“Same goes. We all know we want her for our own, but shit, I’d have to be blind not to know how she feels about you and Keys,” Saint murmured, “and I’m not about to take you away from her when the three of us ground her.”
“Well said,” I rasped, staring up at the ceiling and pondering a fate that had me in bed with three other people.
Wherever I’d expected my life to lead me, it sure as fuck hadn’t been with two kids whose ages put together equaled mine, and the son of one of my friends and fellow councilor.
Not that I was going to complain.
None of us said much after that, and when I fell asleep, I fell harder and faster than I could have expected, considering I was sharing my personal space with new people.
When I woke up, the early morning light told me it was after six but before seven. There was a dim light that pierced the shadows of the room, leaving most of the space in a murky gloom.
Looking over my shoulder when I rolled off the mattress, I saw that Saint wasn’t in bed, but Keys and Ama were wrapped up in each other like they were newborn pups.
My lips curved at the sight, and the lack of envy I felt stunned me. It warmed my heart to see her so comfortable, but seeing just how young she looked unnerved me. Still, there was no mistaking her age, nor forgetting mine. Not when my fucking back ached as I crawled out of bed, or my messed-up ankle that twinged as I headed into the shower.
Washing up, I pulled on a pair of boxers that I stored in a dresser in here, and strolled right on out, hoping to fuck that Saint had prepped some coffee.
I needed plenty of that today.
Grabbing my cell from the nightstand, I stared down at the several unread messages but no missed calls, and tried to take heart from that. Yet, as I stepped away from the bed and made my way to the kitchen, what I read didn’t exactly warm my heart.
Wolfe: ATF motherfuckers just shown up. They’re asking for me. If I don’t tell you I’m okay, be careful with what you share with Ama. I don’t want this to break her heart.
A few hours later, he’d sent: All clear. The fuckers found nothing.
My lips twitched at the barrage of ‘strong’ arm emojis bombarding the bottom quarter of my screen.
When I connected the call, I wasn’t surprised when he answered. Dipping my chin at Saint who was at the kitchen table and staring into his coffee like it held the answers to life, I said, “You all right, Prez?”
Concern flashed in Saint’s eyes, and I nodded my head to the side to let him know that everything was fine.
Or as fine as it could get when Keys’ sister might be a snitch.
Fuck, that was going to be an epic conversation.
“Yeah, they found shit and didn’t even have enough to arrest one of us.”
“What about Martin’s men?”
Wolfe grunted. “They’re fucked. He tried again last night, but the cops just aren’t interested in what he’s offering them.”
“That’s a fucking shame,” I replied on a tired sigh. They might be Knights’ and I might have spent a few years at war with them, but they were brothers-in-arms now. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I asked, “Is there anything I can do?”
“For them? No. Martin’s council has that in hand. It’s a shitty fact of life. Just fucking sucks that it’s because we may have a snitch living among us.”
“Lucie learn anything?” I questioned, as I poured myself coffee from the thankfully full pot. Stacking the phone between my ear and shoulder, I added creamer and sugar—morning was the only time I didn’t take my coffee black.
“Yeah. She learned the bruises were makeup.”
I whistled under my breath. “What about the baby?”
“That’s real. Apparently she just doesn’t need to pee a lot. And that’s a sentence I never imagined telling you.”
I laughed, but sobered up to ask, “Is Hex the father?”
“I don’t know. She won’t say. Seems like it, but she’s gone quiet on all fronts. Lucie is keeping an eye on her.”