Romeo gave me a one-arm hug. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Blade leaned back in his chair. He and Rogue exchanged a look. One that had my gut tight. One that had me thinking I wasn’t going to like what they had to say.
“The board had a meeting. Bylaws are explicit. The money we have on retainer with Willy can only be used for club members in defense of offences relating to club business.”
Rogue sipped whiskey. “If your ass was locked up, there wouldn’t be an issue.”
I glared at Rogue. “This is club business.” Did he want to come clean and confess our sins to the board? Because we both knew Ishouldbe the one sitting in a six by nine cage. For the shit Rogue had done, he should be locked up with me.
“Look around, Cruz.” Blade stared right back at me. “Read the room. Everyone is here for you.”
“Not just for you. They’re here for Ryattbecauseof you.” Dozer glanced around the packed chapel. “Even though most of them haven’t gotten to know him yet.”
Romeo lifted a brow. “They know he’s riding with you and McKelle.”
I glanced over my shoulder. The girls rallied around McKelle, but her gaze focused on me. Levi sat on one side of her, and Kiss was on the other.
“I’ll get the money for the attorney,” I said.
“Board took a vote,” Romeo said. “The bylaws don’t distinguish between a fully patched member and a prospect. Congratulations, Mom. We authorized the use of club resources for your new prospect.”
“You can tell Ryatt when he gets out.” Rogue pushed his chair back when Tank and Bullet entered the MC with an older guy in a suit. “Willy is here.”
Chapter Twelve
McKelle
I hated sleeping alone at the MC. But I hated sleeping at home more. Being in Cruz’s bed somehow made me feel closer to Ryatt. Maybe because he belonged here with us.
Cruz’s motorcycle rumbled outside the window. Early morning light seeped through the crack in the blackout curtains. When Cruz worked at night, he needed the room dark and quiet during the day to sleep. But not today. I couldn’t sleep because we’d finally been approved for weekly in-person visitation.
Butterflies flitted in my tummy. Two weeks didn’t seem long unless the separation was forced. We’d had a couple of video calls with Ryatt, but I ached to be in the same room with him, to smell him, to have my skin touching his.
After a couple of minutes, voices sounded from the hall, then the door quietly opened.
Fabric rustled as Cruz stripped out of his clothes. Metal clanked as he set his gun on the dresser. It was still strange to see him in anything but jeans and his cut. But working for the Brunos required him to wear black pants and business casual shirts, and a business casualjacket. No cuts. No jeans. He didn’t have to wear a suit, but he had to blend in with the family.
I understood what he meant by family. My boyfriend worked for the mafia.
He slid into bed, naked, and I curled against his side.
“I’m not going to be able to sleep,” he said as he banded his arm around me. “What if he changes his mind about us?”
I trailed my fingers over his chest. “He won’t.” Because being apart from him left all of us completely unhinged. Part of me was with him. And I believed him when he said he thought about us.
When he admitted he wanted both of us.
We had fifteen-minute phone calls every afternoon, and Cruz had been putting money on Ryatt’s books. Neither would allow me to help. Something my dad said to Cruz had changed him.
Cruz spent last Saturday volunteering at the track. I hadn’t raced. Not without Ryatt. Cruz had also come over on Sunday for dinner. He’d sat at the table and talked to my dad about bikes, work, and Ryatt.
Cruz was frustrated with the lack of information. Until Ryatt had a court date, nothing would change. And nothing was the same without him. Including us. I pressed my lips to Cruz’s torso. He weaved his fingers into my hair.
I lifted my face. “I hate this,” I whispered. “I miss him.”
“Me, too.” Cruz curved his strong fingers around my neck and brought my mouth to his. Warm breath caressed my lips. With gentle pressure, he rolled me to my back. Then he sat back, snagged the edge of my panties and tugged them down my legs. “Ice cream down on Washington street.”
This was how we kept Ryatt with us in bed. We talked about the things we’d do once he was out. “Ice cream in bed,” I countered, “with whip cream. Caramel.”
