“This is what an MC family looks like, sweetheart. Crazy chaos, but you’ll never find more love than what’s in this room right now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Heather—
Dropping my bag on the floor, I stare around the apartment. I can hear the music from the bar below.
Cody comes to stand beside me. He and Rafe just smuggled me out of the clubhouse in the crew cab of aSawyer Lumberpickup truck.
Rafe checks the front windows, peering through the curtains. “I don’t see anybody.”
They were worried Snake and Greasy would follow us, but we made so many detours and stops, no one would think the guys were doing anything more than making a beer run.
It was scary leaving Tucker, but he was so busy having fun, he barely stopped long enough for me to hug him goodbye. The women all swore to me they’d take good care of him.
Glancing around my new home, I take in the furniture. It’s not new, but it’s quality. The last owner had good taste—or someone in his life did, anyway. The room holds a living room and a kitchen area with a granite island.
The windows overlook the front lot and the intersection beyond.
Cody snags my bag and heads into the only bedroom.
It’s got the basics and a flat-screen tv on the wall.
It seems quieter in this room, and I wonder if the owner installed extra soundproofing so he could sleep.
Cody drops the bag on the bed. “Ready to go meet your new boss?”
“I guess.” I’m less than enthused, and he grins.
“It’s just an introduction. You don’t work until tomorrow.”
“Great.”
Rafe pauses in the doorway. “I’m takin’ off. You good?”
“Yeah. Thanks,” Cody replies.
“Call if you need anything.” With that he leaves down the stairs that lead into the bar. There’s a fire escape at the back of the apartment, but it's locked tight. Before we came up here, Rafe made sure the ladder was secured up high, so that no one could climb onto the fire escape.
I don’t really trust that Snake couldn’t get to me if he finds out I’m here, but I appreciate any bit of extra security at this point.
“You’re not going with him?” I ask Cody.
“You didn’t think we’d leave you here alone, did you?”
“Yes, actually, that’s exactly what I thought.”
“Babe. Come on. Really?”
“If you’re here, how does that make them think the club’s not watching them?”
“Because who they think I’m watching is you. Witness protection, remember?”
“You really think these employees are going to buy that story?”
“Yeah, I do. Biker clubs are notoriously secretive. Who’s going to question what we do?”
I shrug. “If you say so. But what’s my story supposed to be if someone questionsme?”
