“You’re thirty-five, not eighty,” Relay said with a shake of his head. “The hell is wrong with you?”
Bolo shrugged and took a drink from his bottle. “Just tired, Brother.”
“Of women?” Hype asked in surprise. “Is that even possible?”
“And if it is, how do we make sure it doesn’t happen to us?” Merc added.
“Find yourself a good one like Kilo did,” Bolo suggested. “That’ll straighten you out.” He shoved to his feet. “I’m heading home.”
“Ah.”
Everyone looked over at Flir. He was watching Bolo. “You had sixteen…” he looked down at his notebook, “and a quarter, beers.”
“That’s because I’m responsible,” Bolo told him. “If I was irresponsible I’d have finished that beer.” He stood proudly, as if his logic was sound.
“I’m driving,” I told him, standing and leaving my nearly untouched drink on the table. I was going to end up driving most of these assholes home. We were currently in the process of building those new apartments on the club property. That way we could all stay here if we wanted, or needed to, but they weren’t ready yet.
And these fuckers could pass out on the floor if they had to, but most of them were going to want to get home and sleepin their own beds tonight. Couldn’t blame them. We were all getting a bit too old for hard wood floors. Well, except Code. The fucker was only twenty-five. But the rest of us had done our time sleeping on the ground during the military.
“I can drive myself,” Bolo muttered, scowling at Flir for outing him.
“I’m ready to go, too, if you don’t mind swinging by my place?” Merc asked.
“Twenty-one even,” Flir said, holding Merc’s gaze.
The man was a machine. Hadn’t met anyone yet he couldn’t out drink. Twenty-one beers was light work for him. But he still wouldn’t drive. And him being willing to take a ride home would help force Bolo to accept my help as well.
Merc, Hype, and Code weren’t officers in our club, but they’d been members, and friends, for long enough to know the rest of us as well as we knew them.
I gave Merc a grateful nod. Until Ruck got home I was in charge of this group. I frowned. Who’d thought that was a good fucking idea? I wasn’t exactly the most responsible fucker alive, even though I was the VP. Ruck was the one who kept everything running smoothly. He had this way of sorting everyone out, and in a way that didn’t ruffle feathers. I didn’t have that talent. “You’re getting in the fucking cage, Bolo,” I told the huge fucker.
The last damn thing I wanted tonight was a fight. Especially with his ass, but I’d do whatever it took. Riding drunk was a recipe for disaster.
Bolo looked like he was going to argue, then he just sighed. “Fine. But I’ll flip you for the radio.”
“Wait, what?” Merc asked as I eyed Bolo warily.
“Heads, I get the radio, tails you pick the music.” Before I could say anything the fucker had his shoulder thrown into my waist and he threw me over his back. I launched into the air and landed on my face.
“Dammit! Tails. Fine, you get to pick,” he muttered to Merc.
Climbing off the ground, I glared at Bolo. Using me as the fucking coin was his way of punishing me for forcing him to accept a ride home when he wanted to be alone. “Anyone else ready to go for now?” I asked the group, brushing myself off. Still wasn’t worth starting a fight with the asshole. I didn’t feel like letting him use me to release his anger—mostly because he looked like he was ready to pound something into the ground. I really didn’t want that to be me. I had too pretty of a damn face to fuck it up.
They all shook their heads.
“No one leaves until I get back,” I said, directing that order at Flir. He’d keep them under control until then. After all, he controls access to the booze.
Ignoring the insults they hurled my way as I walked out of the clubhouse, I grinned. They sure could be assholes, but fuck if I didn’t love them for it. Playing taxi cab driver would keep me busy for the night, so I didn’t do anything else stupid. Like going back to sit at the hospital for hours. Although I did think about breaking a few heads and calling random ambulances to see if she’d show up. I’d keep that as a last resort.
Looking over at Bolo as I started up the SUV, I studied him. “You good, Brother?”
He was staring out the window. “I’m fine.”
He wasn’t a big sharer on the best of days, but something was bothering him. Didn’t mean I was stupid enough to push the matter. Most of these guys opened up in their own time. You tried to force it and you’d take a fist to the face. Though, sometimes a good brawl got shit moving. This wasn’t the time. Maybe tomorrow. When he wasn’t drunk and I wasn’t operating a damn vehicle. Bolo wouldn’t give a shit if I was driving seventy miles an hour or parked, he’d still belt me if I pissed him off.
Well, maybe my title of vice president would save me a hit. Though only for so long if I kept pushing. Tomorrow. That was better. I dropped the guys off and used the drive back to the clubhouse to come up with a plan for the pretty paramedic.
CHAPTER 6
