Then it would’ve made it seem like I’d left for different reasons, made him less inclined to find me.
Maybe.
It hadn’t even been three days and I missed him like a limb, missed his touch, his smell, fucking everything.
But this was for the best.
Cade pointed two fingers at Rosie and me. “Both of you, in there.”
Rosie smiled bitchily at her brother, the facial version of a middle finger. Something I made note of—that was a perfect expression to replicate in movies. I did that, collected gestures and expressions of interesting people. There was a total wealth of material here, but it remained to be seen whether I’d be able to put it to good use after all this was done.
“We’re finishing our drinks,” Rosie said when Cade continued to stare at his sister.
His jaw twitched ever so slightly, everything else on his face remained blank, empty, which made the jaw twitch all the more terrifying.
Rosie put her hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes, then took a slow drink of her margarita. It was a power move I recognized, and I’d done such a thing in boardrooms with executives who thought I was their toy. It was simple but effective.
“You can glare at me all you want, Cade. I’m still going to finish my drink, catch up with my girl, and we’ll come in in our own good time. Five minutes isn’t going to kill anyone.”
“It just might,” Lucky muttered.
I grinned then sipped my drink to hide it.
Cade gave Rosie one more measured stare, as if he was figuring out if he could win this. In my eyes, this man would win most things, if not by the air of danger about him then by the straight-up hotness.
But even the badass hot president of a motorcycle club was no match for Rosie. “Longer than five minutes, I’m fuckin’ draggin’ you in there,” he grumbled.
“You can try,” Rosie offered.
Cade turned on his motorcycle boot and made his way into the room labeled “Church.” I knew what that was thanks to Sons of Anarchy. I also knew that civilians sitting at the table was not something that was done. Biker church was a sacred thing, where they discussed gun-running, murder, and how to perfect smoldering glares.
The surfer guy laid a hot kiss on Amy without any concern that such a kiss was usually reserved for a time when there wasn’t an audience.
My heart clenched with a memory of a certain macho-man who engaged in similar PDA, someone who I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about.
“Stay here. No running after murderers. You’re a mother now, remember?”
Amy frowned at her husband. “Who says I can’t run after murderers just because I’m a mother? I can have it all.”
“Amen, sista,” Rosie muttered.
The man sighed and looked to Lucky, who held his hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me, bro. I’ve got a pregnant wife who I’m still not stupid enough to say that shit to.”
Brock glared at the man and then kissed his wife again. “Just stay here, Sparky,” he growled then walked off.
Lucky gave me a wink and followed him.
I watched men trickle into the room, each of them wearing the Sons of Templar cuts. A couple of younger looking men wore “Prospect” on the bottom without the patch. Most of them were covered in tattoos. Not all of them looked like they could grace the covers of GQ, as there were some more stereotypical older bikers with beer guts, but very few.
“Rethinking your choice?” Rosie asked with a glint in her eye.
“My choice?”
“Duke,” she said. “Sure, he’s a hot piece of ass in an All-American, polished type of way—which I totally get—but the bad-boy thing is hard to turn away.”
“Try impossible,” Amy offered.
“It wasn’t a choice,” I said without thinking. “Duke. He wasn’t a choice. And even if he was, it’d still be him. Always.”
Both women stared at me, something serious moving in their eyes. Not for long, of course. They both grinned after a beat.
“Oh shit,” Amy said, draining her drink. “I’m going to have to make more margaritas for this.” She turned on her heel to walk toward what looked like a fully equipped wet bar.
“And shots,” Rosie called after her. She drained her drink too. “Ready for this?”
“Not at all,” I told her honestly.
She grinned wider, not perturbed. “Perfect.”
“Okay, as you can see, we’ve got somewhat of a situation,” Cade addressed the table.
We had finished our drinks, did a tequila shot each, and only then did we walk into “church.”
The table was full by then, and I had to admit, it was damn intimidating. Well, that was until Lucky caught my eye with a grin, pointing to the empty chair beside him hopefully.
Yeah, that helped.
Rosie exchanged greetings with most of the men at the table, which showed the admiration and respect these men had for her.
Cade watched her do this with that same blank gaze. He no longer had the pissed-jaw twitch. I figured he was resigned to such behavior from his sister and she was definitely not a woman who would ever change.
“As you can see, we have a guest.” Cade nodded toward me and I held my breath as every eye at the table focused on me.
Lucky fucking applauded.
Then everyone looked to him. He gaped at his brothers. “Come on, guys, this is a three-time Oscar winner.”
Cade ignored this. “For those of you who don’t know, Anastasia is the key witness in the case against Coleson Kitsch. He’s a fucking piece of shit that has been thus far untouchable.” Cade paused for effect, and it totally worked. I was following every move, mostly because of his charisma, and also because I had no fucking clue what the plan was here.
“Untouchable until now. He’s been looking for Anastasia, obviously to make sure she doesn’t testify. Because her main goal would be putting him behind bars.” Cade looked at me and I did my best to keep my stare even. “I understand that goal has changed.”
I nodded once. “It’s changed.”
He looked back to the table. “Now I know that a lot of you have been happy with the direction the club’s taken, especially after what happened with Fernandez.” Cade paused again. This time was not for effect. There was something heavy about this pause.
“If you don’t want to be involved in this, you can get up, walk out. No questions asked. No repercussions.” Cade waited.
So did I.
Even if these men looked like they bench pressed Volvos for fun, this was a stranger—unless they’d seen my movies—asking them to go up against one of the most powerful and dangerous men in the country. I would’ve been surprised if anyone wanted to help me with this. A number of the men wore wedding rings. There was Gwen, with her easy smile, with her children, and Lucky’s pregnant wife.
No one got up from the table.
Cade nodded his head once. “Okay, let’s take this fucker down.”
“You go ahead, I’ve got to talk to my brother and Wire,” Rosie said, nodding her head toward Cade and the skinniest guy here, who was holding an energy drink. I was using the term “skinniest” very loosely since the man still had impressive muscles.