Alejandro stood. “Good. That’s settled. I’m calling Elaina,” he said, mentioning the woman he shared with the president of the Sons of Hell MC, “and then I’m headed off to bed. If you’re going to be up, keep it down. I like my sleep.”
I was pretty sure he also had a thing going on with Joey Dirks, the president of the Sons of Hell, but no one ever asked. It wasn’t anyone else’s business either. And none of us had balls enough to pry. Johnston was a cold mother fucker, but Alejandro and Joey? They were deadly. Everyone respected their boundaries. Hell, no one even dared to toe those fucking lines.
“I’m going to bed,” I announced. I looked at Halo and Gidget. “You two keep me updated.” Swinging my gaze to Noah, I asked, “You coming up, mama?”
“In a bit,” she said, already on her feet and heading for the kitchen. “I need more food.”
“I don’t know where you put it,” I called after her. “You’re a twig.”
She flipped me the middle finger over her shoulder. “My empty soul swallows it all.”
I snorted a laugh and headed up the stairs, honestly too tired to go back and forth with her. But tomorrow, after I had some sleep, would be another story altogether.
I fucking loved getting that woman all riled up and pissed off with me. It was the sweetest form of torture.
I grinned to my self. It was the best form of foreplay, too.
8
Noah
By the time I’d emerged from the kitchen after throwing myself together a sandwich, scarfing it down, and chasing it with a bottle of water, the sitting room was empty and only a lamp had been left on to light my way toward the stairs. Tugging my phone from my pocket, I turned on the flashlight, using it to guide my way up the dark staircase to my room.
The house was eerily quiet, but given how big it was, it wasn’tthathuge of a surprise. Why one man needed a place this huge was beyond me, but Alejandro also seemed like the type who needed things to be luxurious—his cars and clothes included. It made me wonder what his woman—Elaina, I thought I remembered him saying—was like. Did she like things as lavish as he did?
Pushing open the door to my room, I found the light switch, then turned off the flashlight on my phone. The door shut behind me with a quiet click, and I moved further into the room,dropping my phone on the comfortable-looking bed before toeing off my shoes.
I’d already showered earlier when we made it to the house, so I was good to shuck my clothes and fall into bed face first. And I had every intention of doing that until Blayke’s voice outside made me pause with my shirt halfway up my torso. Frowning, I tugged my shirt back down, then padded barefoot over to the curtains. When I tugged it back, I was surprised to find a balcony.
A balcony that connected our fucking rooms.
Fuck you, Alejandro, I thought sourly. I was trying to keep my distance from Blayke. Make him work to get me in his clutches. This certainly wasn’t going to fucking help.
“Best plan we’ve got right now, Prez. Until we can pinpoint a general location, there’s not much even Geek can do.” Blayke sighed heavily as he listened to Johnston speak. I found it amusing that he was just as put out by his president as I was. Johnston was a fucking dick.
Uncaring of how nosy I looked, I pushed open my balcony door and stepped out, arching a brow at Blayke. I was coming off cool and aloof, like he didn’t affect me, but seeing him shirtless with only a pair of boxers covering his package had my mouth running dry.
Blayke didn’t have a six pack, though his stomach was flat. Truth was, Blayke didn’tneedone. There was strength in every part of his body—one that spoke of hard work and a rough life rather than the kind of body men got from hitting the gym numerous times a week. And all that colorful ink? I wanted to run my tongue over every single tattoo so I could memorize them and recall them even when I was damn near one hundred and my memory was fucking shot to hell.
Blayke turned, smirking when he laid his eyes on me. And even though I was fully clothed—even my feet were still in socks—I feltnakedwhen he raked his eyes over me.
“I know you want results overnight, Johnston, but shit doesn’t work like that, brother. Give me time. When I know something, I’ll make sure you know, too. Alright? Get some rest. If you keep bugging me, I’m calling Aaliyah.”
Johnston didn’t seem particularly thrilled about the prospect of being on his old lady’s bad side because he snapped at Blayke loud enough for me to hear his voice, though I couldn’t make out what he said. Blayke was obviously unfazed though—I mean really, it seemed likenothingfazed the man—because he snorted a small laugh. “Goodnight, Prez.”
He ended the call, then turned, tossing the flip phone into the depths of his room. I leaned against the balcony railing and crossed my arms over my chest. When he was facing me again, he crossed his arms over his chest, too, mimicking my pose, except he was smiling like the cat that ate the canary. “To what do I owe the pleasure, mama?”
“Why the hell do you call me that?” I asked, frowning. I’d been letting it roll off my shoulders because I honestlylikedhearing him call me that… for whatever reason. It just didn’t make sense to me that out of all the pet names he could’ve chosen, he chose that one.
He shrugged one shoulder. “You’re fine as fuck, Noah. But also, you’ve got this vibe about you thatscreamsyou’d mother every single one of us if we stepped out of line. Hell, you even stood toe to toe with Johnston. I don’t even think I’ve seen his own wife talk to him the way you did. Mama just fits. At least, in my head, it does.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ain’t much up in your head though, Blayke.”
He cracked a grin that made him look boyish rather than the rugged outlaw I knew he truly was. “There’s lots up in my head, mama. I can tell you about them if you want.” The wink he added after told me all I needed to know about what he was fucking thinking.
I scoffed. “A bunch of fucking marbles, maybe.” He barked out a laugh. “Do women really fall for your charming bullshit?”
He snorted. “My charm is not bullshit. And I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had to try to charm a woman out of her pants or her skirt or whatever the fuck she may or may not be wearing. Panties tend to just drop around me.”
