“Where were you?”
I turn with a jerk and roll my eyes when I stare into the face of my little brother, who’s sitting quietly on a bar stool at the kitchen island.
He leans his elbows on the marble. “If I’d been an intruder, I would’ve shot you in the head before you even drew your weapon, dickhole.”
I let go of my Glock—which is in the back of my waistband—and walk to the faucet, where I fill a glass of water.
“Have you been at Layne’s?”
How the fuck does he know?I shake my head.
“Bullshit.” Pax grabs his smokes from his pocket and pulls one out with his lips. “What did you tell her?” He snorts and looks at me. The lighter clicks and he almost lights up the cigarette, but then stops.
“Don’t you dare,” I say through clenched teeth. “And I didn’t tell her jack shit. She doesn’t know who took out Connor.” I rub my hands over my face and put them on each side of the glass on the countertop. There’s no use denying it, ‘cause the mofo isn’t stupid.
My brother nods. “Good. It has to stay that way. Unless you want her dead, which I’m not opposed to.” He pulls up a brow and wiggles the smoke between his teeth.
“Fuck, no,” I growl. “Pass me a smoke and light the damn thing.” I gesture toward the pack and the cancer-stick between his lips.
With a sigh, he extends his arm toward me. “Ky, let it go. It’s not helping her to know more and if I’m honest, it isn’t our problem. It’s hers.”
My breath escapes slowly. “I’m trying.” I put the smoke between my lips, put my ass on the other stool.
Pax stands. “I know you won’t listen to me, and I know you’ve got a blind spot for Layne, but fuck, man, I really hope it’ll be different this time.” With those words being said, he leaves my condo.
I let myself lean backward and blow circles of smoke in toward the ceiling. Of course I’m not letting this go.
I put the coke in the safe and engage the lock. When it’s locked, I exit the office of one of our strip clubs and saunter to the manager, MJ, who’s in the public area of Wicked conferring with the bartender.
“I’ve replenished the stock, so you’ve got enough for tonight. I’ll have another batch tomorrow.”
She nods at me. “Good. An extra batch tomorrow would be great, since Friday nights are always so busy.”
“I’ll take care of it. See you tomorrow.” I salute her and head for the back entrance of the club, where I parked my bike. I’m thinking of Layne before I’m out.
Tears stream down her cheeks as my heart breaks into pieces. “I’m going with him, Ky.”
“Why? I fucking love you, Layne, and now…” I can’t find the words to explain what this is doing to me.
She wipes the back of her hand under her nose. “I don’t want this life. All I dream of is a normal life, without the club, without the uncertainty. A life like everyone else, in an average house, in an average village.”
“With an average man? Is that what you want, Lay?”
I’m anything but an average man, raised in the same MC as Layne, raised in this life. Heis. Average, boring, and ordinary. Connor, the accountant and his fucking Toyota Prius. Is that really what she wants?
I force the door open, and breathe in the dry outside air. Layne’s average life shattered in an instant, and I intend to give her back what was stolen from her, even if it’s the last thing I do. I need to know what happened to the jerk so I can be sure she can get on with her ordinary life. My only lead right now is the Roseville police, so I start my motorcycle and hit the road.
Twenty minutes later, I set the bike on its stand and place my helmet on the saddle. My tank displays the MC emblem, so I don’t bother locking it. People know to stay away from it.
With my hands in the pockets of my jeans I walk to the huge, iron gate. Since it’s a working day it’s open and I can pass through to the yellow brick building. It doesn’t take long before I step into the bright entree. Behind the counter, which is made of brick as well, a blond wearing a uniform sits, busily typing.
I place my forearms on the counter and lean forward. The sleeves on my arms are in full view, ‘cause I’m just wearing a black T-shirt beneath my cut.
‘Hello, beautiful.’ I paste my most seductive grin on my face.
The lady looks up, her gaze moving from the tattoos on my arms upward until they fall on my cut. Her eyes grow big when her eyes find my VP patch. She schools her features so fast, I question if I interpreted her reaction accurately.
“How can I help you?” She stares intently, her eyebrows arched, her full attention fixed on my face.
