Lysa saw my eyes on the porthole door and waved a hand dismissively. “They’re gonna be in there at least another half hour, I bet. Luckily, this time the scratches he got are pretty minor.”
“What did happen the first time?” I asked, taking a sip of my water and wondering why the hell Gray had gotten that close to a vamp before.
“He hasn’t told you yet? It was what started the whole “Rebellion of Grayson Mars.” And yes—that totally did need the air quotes. I was part of the first wave of that rebellion. But we only dated for like three seconds. We were so not right for each other.”
I only got to ponder that for half a second before the front door burst open and Evan and a fully restored Andros came stomping in.
“Shit!” Lysa sprang to her feet, her hand raised. Behind her, Gunther dropped a chair and did the same, raising his palm and letting a fireball form on it.
“Wait! They’re with me!” I cried, springing out of my barstool. I pushed myself in front of Lysa’s hand, which shimmered with invisible heat. “We ran into a little trouble and Evan had to do some unraveling.”
Lysa lowered her palm and eyed the guys. “Well. Aren’t you two just orgasmic? Dirty. But I like it dirty.”
That statement made my eyes flash with heat but then Lysa made a ridiculous face, waggled her tongue, and pointed at Gunther, using her body to hide her hand. She might think the guys were hot. And they were. But she was mostly fucking with her dad’s friend.
The old biker clenched his grizzled beard and gritted out, “I’m still here, Lysa.”
“Then leave,” she called out brashly. “Cause I’m about to invite them to come inside—if you get my drift.”
Gunther gave a shudder and quickly left as she laughed. “God, you’d think he was a prude, the way he tightens up. Sorry guys. You’re hot and all, but I just can’t resist torturing him.”
Evan wandered closer and asked, “That your Dad?”
She responded but I hardly heard their exchange because I was too busy eyeing Andros. He was human again, huge and muscled—still wearing his black clothes from the heist, though they were ripped and torn in places, his muscular arms and tattoos peeking through. My gaze flitted over him as I reassured myself he was okay before I was drawn back to his deep blue gaze.
His eyes searched mine too, but he seemed hesitant.
I wasn’t.
I barreled into him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “I’m so fucking glad you’re okay!”
The guilt and fear that had braised my insides for hours lessened and I no longer felt like failure was simmering inside my stomach, just waiting for the right moment to boil over. He’s okay, I repeated internally. He’s okay.
I knew him least of all the guys. But he’d held his own tonight, gone above and beyond. He’d sacrificed for us.
And all of that made him glow like a damn saint inside my head.
Hesitantly, Andros put a hand on my shoulder. The huge man slowly pushed me backward and stared down into my eyes. All sorts of things flitted across his expression from worry to relief to exhaustion back to worry.
I had no idea what he saw on my face because I was feeling too many things. Things I didn’t understand, couldn’t even bother to interpret, things that might have been real or prompted by exhaustion and all the intensity of the heist and everything that followed it.
Our stare-off grew longer … into that territory that hovered between awkward and heated. He opened his mouth—
But at that very moment, Zavier came barreling out of the back room.
My thief saw Andros and gave a fist pump. Then he scrambled over to us at inhuman speeds, using his Tock power to manipulate time and propel himself faster than humanly possible. His dark brown hair flew back as he smashed us both in a bear hug. “Yes! Two for two!”
As soon as I could extract myself from his grip, I leaned back and asked, “So, Gray’s good?”
Instead of answering, Z dropped his hold on Andros, clutched my arms and spun me in a circle before he pulled me in for a kiss. The kiss was as happy and giddy and as full of relief as he was; when he pulled back, he nuzzled his nose to mine before declaring, “Best. Night. Ever.”
“Excuse me for putting a damper on the party, but aren’t you with Grayson?” Lysa interrupted.
Z wouldn’t let me go; he slung an arm around my shoulders as I turned to face her.
Her arms were crossed and fury glowed on her face.
“She’s with all of us.”
Oh, Z, way to just drop that truth bomb on a stranger, I mentally chided.
Lysa worried a strand of her bright hair as her eyes bounced from me to my crew and back to Z. I wasn’t certain what she saw in their faces but confusion marred her face for a second before she asked, “Wait. What? Are you guys like Sweet Butts?”
I nearly choked on giggles. “You mean the girls that run around and sleep with every guy in a motorcycle club?”
“Whoa—” Z held up a hand, simultaneously squeezing my shoulder to warn me not to let my laughter continue. “No! No, no, no. Not like that.”
Lysa narrowed her eyes and glanced from him to me before she decided to focus her questions on me. “You just snap and they come running?”
“Not exactly—”
“You get to have sex with them whenever you want?”
Z protested. “That’s a totally mutual decision—”
“Yeah. Still Sweet Butts.”
Z grabbed my hand and yanked me toward the porthole door at the back. “I’m not listening to that. Also, I’ll have you know … I’m not sleeping with Hayley. She’s gotta seduce me first.”
“So … are you like the Old Lady?” Lysa called out.
Z just flipped her off as he pulled me into the back room.
Her raucous laughter followed us inside.
11
It was nearly dawn and I felt wrung out, ready to sleep, and though Lysa offered to let us stay with them (over Cotton's grumbled protests) Gray shook his head and pulled out his phone.
He made a single call and said a single word, "Deliver."
Then we sat down to wait awkwardly in the bar as the sky grew lighter around us. Lysa tried to push small talk, but Z—who was normally the most talkative—was still huffy about the Sweet Butt thing.
Thankfully, a semi-truck pulled its squeaking breaks into the parking lot after only about twenty minutes. As I strolled with the others out to meet it, my eyes grew wide. In the back of the semi were some seriously impressive Harleys.
"Oh, they're prettier than Zac Efron!" Lysa gushed, stepping forward and running her hand over the handlebars of the nearest one.
Cotton just grunted and Gunther put on duck lips—kind of like he was impressed too but didn't want to say it.
There were five bikes and six helmets ready for us.
"Hayley, I thought you'd ride with one of us, but since Z is drunk... " Gray trailed off.
I marched forward and slung a leg over the smallest bike, not caring that it hiked my zebra skirt up a ton. I tested the heels and gritted my teeth. They were gonna make driving difficult.
"Wait, you can drive a bike?" Z asked. "How did I not know this?"