Volt dragged his hand down his goatee. “Won’t be having church today or tonight. Too much is up in the air right now. We get everyone together, I want to makedecisions. As it stands, we have to wait to find out if Prime will post bail and other shit like that.”
Beast shifted in his seat to look between Punc and Volt. “We aren’t certain that all of the Devil Lancers were rounded up. At least that’s what Cal told me when I got here.”
Punc sipped his coffee. “So we’re in a holding pattern, then?”
“For now. Why do you sound like that’s a problem?” Volt asked.
“There’s a reason I joined this MC, Volt, and it had everything to do with how the brothers stepped up to avenge Trixie.”
“What does Trixie have to do with anything?” Beast asked.
“It reminded me of what happened to my mom when I was a kid. Except Roll was hell-bent to get his pound of flesh.”
“All right, but that was six years ago,” Volt said.
Punc swallowed more black coffee. “Ava could have died last week, but nobody seems to give a damn. And nobody’s out to make any of those assholes pay for what they did to her.”
“Ava works for Platinum’s. She isn’t an old lady, there’s no comparison here,” Beast said.
Punc glared at Beast. “Bullshit. Trixie wasn’t claimed when everything went down.”
Volt sighed. “No, but she was in our clubhouse every free moment she had. Ava just started working for us earlier that week when she was attacked.”
“She deserves more than the fuckin’ cops picking up Prime and Ghost for fuck’s sake.”
Beast nodded. “Yeah, and we’re doing quite a bit for her. We’re handling her medical bills, Punc. That’s more than most employers would—”
“No woman expects to get beaten to a pulp in a fucking parking lot - especially when she follows our fuckin’ rules and has someone walk her to her vehicle,” Punc bit out.
Volt raised his chin in a slow nod. “You’re right, but our hands are tied here until we have more information, Punc.”
He turned his head and exhaled hard. His mind reeled at the notion of their hands being tied. Ghost and Prime sitting in jail made him consider getting arrested himself. At least then he could kick Prime’s ass. Thoughts of Prime reminded him of his schedule.
He looked back at Beast and Volt. “If I’m not mistaken, Prime was on the schedule today. Is that covered or am I working this afternoon?”
Volt shook his head. “Evict is covering Prime’s shift. You still got today off.”
Beast widened his eyes at Punc. “And I’m thinking you need to take a long ride, brother. You’re wound up pretty fuckin’ tight.”
Punc was wound up all right, he nodded and finished his coffee. “Yeah. I’ll find a way to take the edge off, Beast.”
At twelve-thirty, Punc parked his Honda CR-V in Savannah’s driveway. The pungent aroma of garlic and tomato filled the vehicle. His stomach had been growling off and on since he leftthe restaurant. He couldn’t wait for Savannah to devour her sub since he knew how much she loved them.
As he approached the front door, he considered how wrong this was. What could he possibly give to Savannah? She deserved someone more like Michael, his brother-in-law. An upstanding man who would be home every night for dinner and see her off in the morning. No matter how much he believed that, he couldn’t ignore the sour feeling in his gut at the idea. He wanted to be that man because he loved talking to her every chance he got, especially late at night.
Unbidden, Beast’s words about Savannah not being an old lady hit him. Punc hadn’t given any thought to taking an old lady. After spending so much time with Savannah the week before she was attacked, then while she was in the hospital, and learning things about her from Catalina and Rita… Punc didn’t care if she would wear a cut declaring her as his old lady, he knew she was the woman he wanted by his side, and to hell with the consequences.
He shook his head at himself. She had enough on her plate. He didn’t need to complicate her life, and he wouldn’t, because of his loyalty to the club.
Before he could dig the key to their house out of his pocket, Savannah unlocked and opened the door. “Hey! I heard you pull up. Do you need any help?”
Her hair was piled up on top of her head in a clip and she wore a dusky pink t-shirt adorned with a row of silver plates shiny enough that they looked like small mirrors, along with snug, black capris. Savannah could make a burlap sack fashionable, but something about her casual look told him she’d put in some effort.
He grinned and held up the brown paper bag. “No need for help. Hope you’re hungry.”
She stepped out of the doorway, and he caught a whiff of her floral perfume as he moved inside.
Before she shut the door, her fingers skated along his bicep sending a zing of awareness through him. “You didn’t have to bring me lunch, you know?”
