“Why were you in Memphis?” she asked.
The brothers had tons of bullshit they put prospects through, and likeFight Club,talking about it to non-members was frowned upon.
“Club business,” I muttered.
Her chest jerked with her lone, bitter chuckle. “Should have known.”
Truth was, until I got that call from Blood, I thought I was moving. It seemed to me that transferring as a prospect rather than as a patched member would be easier. Dad told me I was wrong, but everywhere I went in Jacksonville held reminders of Alexandra. We never really dated, but we had spent tons of time together running around the city. I couldn’t take much more of it.
I blew out a sigh. “I plan to transfer up there.”
“What? No.”
I shot her a quick look because from the tone of her voice she sounded crushed. The disappointed look on her face matched her tone.
I shook my head and turned back to the windshield. “You look like I told you Santa isn’t real.”
She blew out a breath, drawing my attention and I saw her roll her eyes. “No, I’m just surprised. That’s a big move.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “Cross-town or across three states, a move is a move, Lex.”
“Yeah. That’s one way to look at it.”
A rest area sign came into view. If we stopped maybe I could get the whole story out of her.
“You need to stretch your legs?” I asked.
“That’d be good.”
Chapter three
Not with Us
Alexandra
Itossedabagof pistachios onto the dash, hauled myself up into Rafferty’s truck, and buckled in while he did the same (minus the pistachios). After a moment, I realized he hadn’t put the key in the ignition, let alone started the vehicle.
He leaned into his forearm on the center console. “I’m not driving and I won’t drive until you tell me what Porter’s deal is.”
I stared into his dark brown eyes. “Porter doesn’t have a deal.”
His brows arched. “Bullshit. You said we couldn’t discuss it while I drove. Truck’s parked. Now spill.”
He certainly was learning how to be an overbearing alpha while prospecting with the Riot MC.
I sighed. “Porter and I are over, Tee. Have been for over two months.”
He cocked a brow at my use of a nickname I hadn’t uttered in over five years. “Why would you cause a scene?”
I grabbed the pistachios. “It doesn’t matter.”
He snatched them from me.
“Hey!”
He stayed focused. “If it doesn’t matter, then why aren’t you talking about it? Plus, why would it make me angry?”
“I never said it would make you angry.”
