His jaw clenches and he glances at the men who are still being big babies about the bikes.
Behind him, Eli watches us, his arms folded and an unreadable to most, but obvious to me, annoyed expression on his face.
I’m not stupid, I’ve seen the animosity thrown Mace’s way by the brothers. To some, he’s still classed as the enemy. He could stay here, there is plenty of room, but it will be shitty for him.
I should leave him to the consequences of his actions. My eyes flick from Eli to Mace and then the clubhouse where Waverley and Nessa have abandoned me to go.
“Fine.”
I don’t wait to see if he is surprised, just turn, very briefly catching Eli’s eye but ignoring him as his arms drop to his sides.
I busy myself getting my seatbelt on and start the car as Mace climbs in. He is so tall he has to move the seat back. Given mom was the last person to sit there and is barely five feet, he has to move it back a long way. My Mercedes-Benz E-Class is one of the few things I’ve splurged on. Making a statement at the boy’s club I work in is an unfortunate side effect I have as a woman.
When I bought it, the salesman was so obnoxiously overbearing I didn’t look at anything else. He kept telling me driving aMercedes-Benz E-Class signifies success, sophistication and prestige. It shows refined taste and attention to detail.
Despite that bullshit to get a sale, I love this car, and I don’t care Mace is looking with disdain at the dash and steering wheel with all its smart features and big screen. He should be grateful I’m not kicking his ass out. He’s barely got his seatbelt on before I drive away.
In the rearview mirror I note Eli watches us all the way to the gate where we have to wait for the prospect to get his ass in gear and open it for us.
There are five cameras pointed at us now. Security had stepped up a million-fold after what happened with the Kingsmen.
The drive is uncomfortably silent for a while. It’s at least forty minutes to Parsippany from the clubhouse and I wasn’t expecting to be driving home this late, certainly not with him in the car.
I’m hyperaware of him beside me. His scent filling the car, bergamot and lemon, like the old Italian farms we went to when we were kids. It’s bringing back a lot of memories I haven’t thought about in a while. When Ransom and I were blissfully unaware of the heaviness that comes with being the children of an MC officer.
Dad barely came along on the trips, vacations and MCs do not go together. He came a couple of times but always left before we did. Mom hasn’t been back for a few years, Ransom and I since we were in our early teens.
The atmosphere is getting weirder as the miles pass and I studiously keep my eyes on the road. Driving through farmland is a long way from the lifestyle I live now.
“No one else would give you a ride?” I ask, finally unable to bear the silence any longer.
“What do you think?” he asks after a moment of studying the side of my head.
“I thought that whole thing was over with.” I ignore the rudeness of his response.
“Some grudges take longer to forget.”
“Or ever get over,” I mutter.
He shifts in the seat. “It’s understandable.”
“That’s very accommodating of you.”
“If things went down any differently, I wouldn’t be here.”
This time I can’t help looking at him. He’s not looking at me, his gaze straight into the darkness of the road ahead.
“You mean you’d be dead.”
His eyes flick to mine.
“I don’t believe in talking around things. Everyone should have the balls to say what they mean.”
“Are you questioning my balls, Cassie?”
Treacherous eyes lower to his lap and back again. Instead of feeling embarrassed, I flash a smirk then look back at the road. He lets out a low laugh and runs a hand up and down his thigh. Dangerously close to his groin. What is he doing?
My heart thumps while I simultaneously chastise myself.
