"Couldn't talk about him much," Robin says, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Classified military stuff. Like, actually classified, not just 'I don't want to discuss it' classified. But yes, this is my big brother. He's been doing scary government things in scary places for five years, and apparently he's finally done."
"Retired," Ash confirms. He's still watching Knox with that same measuring stare he gave the parking lot. Reading the room. Exits. Potential weapons. "Heard my little brother was spending time at some biker bar. Figured I'd check it out. Make sure it was safe."
"It's safe." Knox's arm tightens around Toby. "Robin and Toby are under my protection."
"Good to know." Ash's gaze sweeps the room, landing on Vaughn at the bar, on Silas in his corner, on Ezra who's emerged from the back. On me.
On me, for just a second longer than anyone else.
"And who are they?"
"My pride," Knox says. "Vaughn, my second. Silas. Ezra. And Jason."
Ash's eyes flick back to me at my name, that cool gaze sharpening into something more focused. "Jason. The one with the cute bike."
"It's not cute," I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I intended, defensive in a way I didn't mean to be. "It's a custom build with a bored-out engine—"
"I know what it is." The corner of his mouth twitches, almost a smile but not quite. "I looked it over while you were staring at mine. The 1250 conversion, the upgraded suspension, the aftermarket exhaust. Good work. Clean welds on the exhaust manifold. The seat leather's a nice touch—hand-tooled, right? Flame pattern?"
He noticed. He noticed all of it in the thirty seconds he spent walking past, and he remembered it, and he can describe it back to me like he's been studying my bike for months.
"Then why'd you call it cute?" I demand.
"Because you're cute when you're flustered."
My face goes hot. My lion makes an embarrassing sound, something between a purr and a whimper that I really hope no one else heard.
Robin cackles, delighted. "Oh my god, Ash. Five minutes and you're already hitting on the wildlife."
"Stating facts." Ash's gaze hasn't left mine, pinning me in place like a butterfly on a board. "Nice bike. Nicer owner."
I should say something. Something clever, something cutting, something that proves I'm not just standing here with my mouth open like an idiot while Robin's stupidly hot brother stares at me. But my brain has completely shut down, all my blood apparently rushing somewhere other than my head.
"Anyone need a drink?" I blurt out, because I need to move, need to do something with my hands, need to stop standing here feeling like Ash can see right through me. "I'm getting drinks."
Orders come in. Water for Robin and Toby, beer for Vaughn who's abandoned his crossword with visible relief. Knox shakes his head, already steering Toby toward the big armchair so he can pull him into his lap and keep touching him. Silas requests nothing, just goes back to his book. Ezra mutters something about inventory and disappears again.
"What about you?" I ask Ash. "Beer? Whiskey? We've got bourbon, vodka, some tequila that Ezra swears is good but I'm pretty sure is lighter fluid—"
"Water's fine."
Of course. The guy probably doesn't put anything in his body that might dull his reflexes or slow his reaction time.
I retreat to the bar to pour drinks, grateful for the excuse to turn my back and get my shit together. My hands are shaking slightly as I fill glasses. Vaughn catches my eye and smirks but doesn't say anything, which is probably the nicest thing he's ever done for me.
"You okay?" he asks quietly, pretending to go back to his crossword.
"Fine."
"You look like you're about to vibrate out of your skin."
"I said I'm fine."
"Uh huh." He fills in a word—seven letters, something about nautical terms.
I flip him off and grab the drinks.
When I bring them over, I have to lean past Robin to hand Ash his water. Our fingers brush against the glass—just a second of contact, his skin warm and rough against mine.
