Grave’s mouth twitches. “Sully.”
The word hits like a punch. Ollie’s body goes rigid. His arm flexes around Ellie protectively.
“We don’t want anything from him, either.” I shake my head.
Grave’s gaze hardens just a little. “That’s too bad, because you’re getting it anyway until we say otherwise.”
“Anything Sully gives comes with expectations or strings attached,” I say. “And we don’t want him around. You promised.”
Grave nods again. “I keep my promises. He won’t be coming around anymore.”
“Then what is it?” Ollie asks, voice easy but eyes cold.
Graves holds his gaze for a long moment. Then he nods to a guy in the truck who gets out. I watch as the dog from the biker compound jumps down from the car after him and looks around, then runs to me, his tail wagging.
Without thinking, I lean down and pet him. “Hi, Bandit. How are you doing, good buddy?”
Owen gasps. “A dog! Cool!” The dog turns and runs to him next, hunched, tail wagging, excitedly.
Ollie looks at me, confused. “Whose dog is this?”
“Bandit belongs with a family,” Grave says. “He’s yours now. Figure he’d make a good shop dog.”
Ummm, okay? I mean, life just handed me a baby and a husband, what’s a dog, too?
Bandit doesn’t look bothered at all, and his tongue is out, tail wagging as he circles Owen, excitedly. And judging by Owen’s reaction, it’s a good match.
Grave hands me a thick envelope, then walks back over and swings a leg over his bike. The others follow without a word.
Engines roar to life and take off, the truck following them.When they pull away, the silence they leave behind feels heavier than the noise of their bikes did.
I exhale shakily. “Did we just get a dog?”
Ollie doesn’t move. He stands there, just as confused as me, Ellie tucked tight against him, eyes locked on the open door long after the bikes disappear.
Ollie finally look down andEllie blinks up at him, completely content, one tiny fist gripping his shirt.He presses a kiss to the top of her head.
“How do you know this dog?” he murmurs. “And why did they leave him here?”
“I think he was supposed to be the guard dog at their club, but he wasn’t doing his job very well.” I shrug. “He’s a good boy.”
I step into Ollie, sliding my hands around his waist, pressing my face into his chest. “I don’t know, but Owen looks pretty happy.”
Owen is laughing with Mack and playing with Bandit, who didn’t look the least bit bothered that his owners left him in a strange place.
I shut the doors and make sure the front door to the shop islocked. “Don’t open the bay doors,” I tell them, and they nod, playing with the dog.
“Let’s get him a water bowl,” I hear Owen say. “Oh, they left his food and bowls.”
We shut ourselves into the office, the door clicking closed behind us. The hum of the shop fades, replaced by the small, contained quiet of paperwork and old coffee and motor oil that never quite leaves the walls.
Ollie dumps the envelope onto the desk.
Bills of various amounts fall out. Mostly twenties. Holy crap.
I stare at it for a second before I start counting, fingers steady even though my chest feels tight. One hundred. Two. Five. I stack them into neat piles, the way I always do, like order makes things easier to swallow.
“There’s a couple grand here,” I say finally.
