“Yes,” she whispers. “God. Yes.”
The room erupts into applause and whoops and hollers.
Some of the women are crying, especially a pretty woman in her mid-fifties that I assume is Grudge’s mom.
But Grudge simply keeps hold of Lucy, and I’m so close, I hear him whisper to her, “And this time, no one else is going to write the ending, except us.”
It’s enough to crack the frost around my heart.
When people take the opportunity to crowd them to congratulate them, I find my way over to Catfish.
He’s the only person left at the bar. I ask, “You aren’t going to congratulate them?”
“I’ll find the right time. Plus, if I stay here, I get to talk to you for a few minutes before everyone realizes we’re here. Enjoying yourself?”
His hand drops off his lap and brushes up against my thigh. The touch is light, but I feel giddy at the connection.
“I am. Are you? You look worried about something.”
He lowers his shoulders away from his ears and takes a breath before tipping his chin in the direction of Grudge. “He’s concerned that King won’t pay us for protecting you if we…”
I glance over at where Grudge has stood and is holding Lucy in his arms; they are face-to-face while her legs dangle.
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” I say. “For you and me.”
His brow furrows again. “Why is that?”
I smile softly as I focus on the happy couple. “At least I won’t have any reason to doubt your motives.”
“Not sure I understand your meaning.”
I turn to face him. “For as long as the club is getting money for me being here, you have a reason to keep me around. But as soon as the money is taken off the table, and you still keep me around, then I know it’s me you want.”
Catfish bites back a grin. “Guess so. But you don’t really think that’s why I want you, do you?”
I shake my head. “Never.”
Wraith steps away from the mass huddle to put his phone to his ear. The fat grin on his face immediately drops. He presses his fingers over his ear so he can hear what is being said down the line more clearly. And then he jolts, like a man electrocuted.
“FBI,” he yells.
The music screeches to a halt.
“What?” Grudge says, lowering Lucy to the floor.
“The FBI are on their way up Main Street to the clubhouse,” Wraith yells. “Everybody move.”
26
CATFISH
Idon’t stop to ask questions because I know our protocol. There’s always a spotter on the west side of town to alert us when a convoy of vehicles passes through.
From the far eastern corner of the property, there’s a manned lookout that can see a mile down the road. On a brisk clear night like tonight, they can likely see headlights even farther.
And the assertion it’s FBI based on vehicle size and style has probably been analyzed before there was a call to the President…which…given they called Wraith, suggests time has already been wasted trying to call Grudge.
Obviously, he didn’t answer because he was in the middle of proposing to his woman.
