“Tris—”
“You’re stayin’ here until the threat’s eliminated, Olivia. End of story. You wanna argue more about it, we can do that later. I gotta go.”
I heard a feminine screech, then a loud crash and Doc bellowing, “Goddammit, woman!”
I rushed into the room to find a cast iron skillet on the floor, bacon and grease all over the tile, and a huge divot in the wall.
“What the fuck?” Doc demanded.
“I brought the baconandfried it up in the pan,” she screeched.
“You could have hit me!” Doc accused.
“Please. I pulled my punch. If I’d wanted to hit you, I would have,” Olivia snapped. “You know how good my aim is.”
Doc put his hand out. “Lyric, don’t move. You might slip on the grease.”
“Well, that was a waste of perfectly good bacon,” I pointed out, but stayed where I was. The last thing I needed was another broken leg.
“Don’t encourage her,” Doc growled.
“I want out of this fucking barn, Tristan,” Olivia seethed.
Doc shook his head. “One week, Liv.”
“Go, Doc,” I said. “We’ll clean this up.”
He scowled at Liv, but still managed to kiss her quickly, then walked out the door.
“Fucking pain in my ass,” she hissed as she started to clean up the mess.
“At the risk of being nosy, do you think you might be a little hard on Doc?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Some days I feel like I’m in quicksand, you know? I have no idea what the fuck that man wants from me. We aren’t even a couple. We fuck occasionally, we have no deep feelings for one another, but he insists on whisking me away whenever there’s some kind of threat.”
I was pretty sure the fact they didn’t have deep feelings for one another was a lie, but I wasn’t going to say that out loud…she was still holding the skillet.
“Can you get us out of here?” I asked, switching subjects.
“What do you mean?”
“Secretly. Can you find a way to get us out of here clandestinely?”
She dumped the skillet in the sink and faced me. “Why?”
“Not here.”
She smiled slowly, evilly, and cocked her head. “Well, well, Lyric Morgan, what did you have in mind?”
We cleaned up the grease and headed to my office.
* * *
It took two days to put our plan into motion and by the time we got Doc, Doom, and Alamo out of the compound, we were both nervous wrecks. Me more than Olivia. I got the impression Olivia was a pro at subterfuge…me, not so much. Jasmine was at her salon with her best friend, Parker, under heavy guard. Dash and Badger were out on a run for one of the bars the club owned, and Quin and Willow were being watched by Gator and Milky here at the compound.
Olivia and I were technically being watched as well, however, our girls were going to distract them with questions about the war or something Gator and Milky would argue over, so that we could skedaddle and head to our rendezvous spot as soon as feasibly possible.
“Jazz is ready,” Olivia said.
