“Does Vanessa like hearing you talk about other women like that?”
He smirks at my jest. “All I’m saying is that I figured his kids would be as jaded and bitter as he is. But she’s…” he slides off the stone wall. “Smiling?”
I hashed out the idea with Chaos last night when he finally dragged his love-sick ass back to the clubhouse. We all went to school together, but unlike me, he never paid much mind to the Sheriff’s daughter. But it never slipped his memory how I’d talk about Kyra once a few drinks were under my belt, or how I’dsometimes blow off a day of causing trouble with him to go to school and check up on her.
“You sure this won’t get messy?”
I glance to my side and catch him studying the stupid smile that’s twisted one side of my mouth. “You saying you don’t trust me to do a job?”
His mismatched eyes narrow, tone dropping low to grumble, “We still fucking fighting?”
Things have been rough between us since he met Vanessa—since his focus shifted somewhere more pleasurable and he left the day-to-day running of the club up to me.
“It won’t get messy,” I assure him. “Her link to Marty is too valuable for the Kings for me to risk it.”
I return my focus to where Kyra checks that the way is clear and jogs across the street, one hand fisted around the strap of her purse slung over her shoulder. Loose pants float around her legs as she moves in flat-soled boots, a fitted, pale pink T-shirt with a Care Bear dressing down the otherwise corporate attire.
It’s quirky. And a little bit cute.
“Hey.” Her gaze sweeps over Chaos, who stares at her with his usual brooding intensity. “Hope you haven’t been waiting long.” Her words falter a little under his scrutiny.
The fucker is off-putting enough with his one blue eye and one brown eye. But with his split-dyed hair contrasting those eyes, tattoos adorning the visible parts of his skin, and club insignia proudly worn on his back, he sends the message without needing to utter a single word.
The Kings are not to be fucked with.
“Didn’t wait long at all.” Close to fifteen minutes, but I didn’t want to risk her walking out the door and thinking I’d bailed if I was late. I lift my chin at Chaos. “Catch up with you later.”
“Sure.” He gives me a knowing look that lingers a split-second too long, then turns toward the main street to run errands. More secrets he refuses to talk about.
“How was your day?” I guide Kyra toward the cafe.
“Do you mean, did I give anyone the wrong shit again?”
I chuckle at her subtle dig about our interaction yesterday. “I meant, how was your day. Nothing more. Nothing less. Was it good?”
She shrugs. “It was a day. Not great, but not bad either, so I can’t complain.” She glances behind her at Chaos as we walk, her hand still tightly fisted on the strap. “He’s a lot, isn’t he?”
“He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”
“I get the feeling he doesn’t want to know me.” She chuckles awkwardly. “I don’t remember him being so…himin school.”
“Probably because he was hardly ever there.”
“How did he ever graduate?”
I smirk. “Some people are just born gifted.” Or geniuses—however you want to look at it. Something lingers in the shadow of her downturned gaze, but it’s too early to push things that hard, so I let it lie. “Care Bears, huh?” It’s about re-establishing trust, first. If I ever had that.
Kyra glances at the worn cotton stretched across her chest, which only succeeds in drawing my focus to her breasts, also. “Don’t ask me why.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “I never liked them when I was a kid, but there’s something about them now that appeals to me. Their bright colors? The way they all seem so happy?” She hesitates. “It’s silly, I guess.”
“You’ve got to hold on to the things that bring you joy in life, right?”
Her chin tilts up in my periphery. “Yeah. You do.” I damn near spook when her hand brushes the side of my cut. “I guess you don’t have much room for self-expression when you have to wear this day in and day out.”
“You’d be surprised.” I steal a look at her while we wait to cross a side street. “Some of the brothers find ways to express themselves, but it’s more about keeping a clear and uniform appearance when we’re all out together than it is about denying self-expression.”
“The big, bad men all wearing black, huh?” Her boot scuffs as she steps off the sidewalk, and I reel in the urge to take her by the arm to steady her balance.
“Black is easier to hide stains.”
