“Can you be more specific?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Never mind that; where are Steele and Mason?”
“Went to get beers,” Zack said. “Said they’d be back in about five.”
“Sure hope so,” I said, looking down at my phone. “Connor, when did you all get out of prison?”
“About six-thirty this morning,” Connor grumbled. “Fucking bullshit if you ask me. If you’re going to throw me in the tank, at least let me have some sleep or a chance to punch a few Bandits.”
“You mean they didn’t put you in the same cell?” Garrett cracked. “Shocking that they’d put two warring factions in separate places.”
“Shut your trap, Manwhore,” Connor said. “Just cuz you bailed to slam some pussy doesn’t mean you get to pretend that you were a part of last night.”
“Hey, I threw some punches! And so did Zack!”
“Yeah, and Zack’s smart enough to not mouth off.”
“Professor Smartass? He always opens his mouth!”
“I’m gonna shut yours for you if you keep that attitude up.”
Garrett finally relented, taking a sip of his beer.
“Yeah, the guy who bailed us out, some short, stocky dude with a biker cut. Said he’d spoken to you last night and would arrange it?”
I nodded. I had planned on not saying anything, just because I didn’t want to seem like some secret mastermind, just one of the guys, but it was all out there now.
“That’s the guy I spoke to on Wednesday,” I said. “The one who said he could help us out. I think he wants to try to make us an MC.”
“Interesting,” Connor said.
Connor didn’t get excited by anything, really. Curiosity only came to him sporadically. So hearing him call something “interesting” meant far more than Garrett or Zack saying it off the cuff.
“He’s connected?” Connor asked.
I nodded.
“I don’t know how deep or how much he can help, but he bailed you all out, he owns Reapers, and he’s got a kickass top-floor penthouse apartment. The man has money somewhere.”
“Kick fucking ass,” Connor said. “Maybe we can finally beat the shit out of the Bandits.”
Connor’s demeanor, from a normal person, would have been plain, a hint of hopeful. For Connor, it was like he’d found out he’d won the fucking Powerball lottery.
The front door opened. Steele and Mason walked in.
“Ah, the man of the hour has arrived,” Mason said.
That dude always spoke with a dry tone that usually represented his jadedness. But tonight, there seemed to be a bit of pep to it, like he knew what was about to happen.
“That’s not me,” I said. “That’s Cole.”
“Well, you’re the one who told us you had someone. So as far as I’m concerned, you’re the man of the hour. But don’t think you’re the man of the night—that’s Cole.”
“Ah,” I said, smirking. “Steele, glad to see you didn’t grow another breakup beard.”
But instead of trash-talking right back, Steele eyed me with suspicion and sat back down to the couch next to Connor. Did he… did he know? That seemed unlikely—the last I’d seen him, he was nodding to me as he was being arrested, more or less saying he was taking the fall for me.
