“Right.” Mak stressed the word, a hint of a smile on his lips. “You know, it’s okay to tell them to stay in their lane, right? You don’t have to choose between having an ol’ lady and having the club?”
I nodded, having seen for myself how well that worked out for Mak and Sasha. Anyone who missed it, need only look at the dark circles under her eyes, when they weren’t bruised.
“Ya got a looker,” Mak sang, his attention leveled on something across the tracks.
“What?” I pinched my face up and turned to see what he was on about.
A small gathering of girls was paused between the pubs staring at us. Their guilty smiles were unmistakable.
“I don’t have–”
“You had time in Springfield.” He pointed out.
I sucked my teeth and raised a brow as my attention wandered back to The Last Stand.
Springfield was different. Nokomis wasn’t local, but it was familiar enough. There were only two kinds of women we weregoing to find here tonight. The kind that were born to ride, and the ones who couldn’t wait to be ruined.
It was something you could bank on.
But I wasn’t in the mood for banking. It was like being shown a Maserati only to be told you had to leave the lot with a busted-ass Buick.
I didn’t want something I could figure out at a glance. I wanted to pluck secrets from the depths of Crystal’s soul. I had a visceral need to know who had put that kind of fear in her pretty blue eyes. And more than anything, I wanted to be the reason she never flinched, lowered her gaze, or shrank herself in front of anyone ever again.
“Not interested,” I grunted.
“Tell ‘em that yourself.” Mak responded, stepping around me in a wide arc.
The bastard licked his lips, lubricating the bullshit before it trickled out in that reckless way of his, “Careful, ladies. Careful. You come prancing those fine asses over here, you may not go home the same way you pranced on over.”
“Fuck me,” I scoffed, under my breath, not that he heard it over the chorus of giggles.
“Well, at least now we know which one does the big talkin’.” A curvy girl with long, dark curls laughed as she moved past Mak and came to stand before me.
She folded her arms and stared at me like I owed her money.
“You fuckin’ lost?” I asked, when she bugged her eyes.
“You do speak,” she cooed.
I licked the back of my teeth, swallowed a curse and locked eyes with Mak.
“I’m goin’ to get a drink. When you tire of the overprivileged pussy, you’ll know where to find me.”
Curls dropped her arms and her jaw, while crowing out on a laugh, “Overprivileged. I live in a fucking trailer in Witt, douchebag.”
I stared at her like she’d proven my point and those catty eyes narrowed on me.
“Fuck you,” she hissed.
“Debi,” her narrow-waisted friend called, before stepping toward her.
Mak grabbed her by the arm and whirled her back to face him.
“Fuck Debi, she talks too much,” Mak clipped, He slid a hand along her face before softening his words. “It’s okay, Anthony will put that nasty mouth of hers to better use. He’ll get her a good dose of act right. Tell you what, why don’t you worry about me and let Debi worry about him, hmm, Doll?”
Debi cackled like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
“Yeah, it’ll take more than–That- to shut me up,” Debi carried on, as she followed me across the road. “Listen, I’m not used to being the one doing the chasing. I understand you Swanwick boys think you’re highfalutin’ or whatever...”
