“Hey, ain’t my fault Ginger won’t let me go,” Ace says around a smirk.
“Ginger from the Royal Flush?” Shady asks.
“Yeah, why?”
“Let’s just say you might be leaving with way more than you went in with.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Figure it out, asshole.”
Fist screws up his lips. “Ahhhh, shit!”
“Are we done gossiping like little bitches?” I slam down a meat tenderizer I found in the kitchen, and we all file out.
“Hey,” I fall in next to Shady, “I screwed Ginger the first night I was back and . . .”
Shady busts out laughing. “I was just playin’ Ace ‘cause he’s always late for his shift.”
“We’re heading over to the Borgata,” Speed says. “You coming?”
“I’m beat.” I shake my head. “I’m heading upstairs to get some sleep.”
As much as I would give my life for my brothers, sometimes I needed to be alone. I’d learned to live with my own thoughts even when those thoughts kept me up at night. I owned the regret, the bad choices, and although I wasn’t there yet, I even tried to forgive myself for fuckin’ up the best MC in Atlantic City.
Loyalty is non-negotiable.
Debts must be paid.
Weakness is tolerated, but betrayal is not.
Prison took from me, but it also gave me an unbreakable endurance. Like the toughest steel, I couldn’t be broken. Maybe ‘cause there’s nothing left to break.
Working on The End and seeing the Kings coming together again gives me purpose. The physical labor grounds me, showing me I survived and am still capable of putting it all back together.
“Yeah, sure.” Scratch gives me a look. “You’re going upstairs, but not to sleep.”
I ignore him and the others with their trash talk and head for the back stairs. Much to my disappointment, I would be going to sleep ‘cause Sammie kept her distance from me like I had the plague.
We discussed the renovations and plans for the bar, but that was it. She even kept at least three feet between us when wetalked. I had as much chance of getting her in bed as I did of becoming an upstanding citizen.
I reach the landing and pause to catch my breath. Although I didn’t let on to the others, my bruised ribs still left me winded, but the prez of the Kings can’t afford weakness if we’re to succeed. The End will be ours, and once I claim responsibility for something—or someone—I don’t abandon it.
Which brings my brain back to the dark-haired beauty whose room is right next to mine. The paper-thin walls allow me to hear her moving around in her apartment, and I wonder what she’s thinking, what she’s doing. She told me her life story with humor and sarcasm, but her façade didn’t fool me. I use bluster and intimidation to cover my wounds too. Different ends of the same theory.
I pause at Sammie’s door and listen. Silence, but I know she’s in there. I can almost feel her presence without seeing her. She came up hours ago. Since the new appliances came, she spends most of her time in the kitchen. She obviously likes to cook, but chooses to eat her meals in her room alone every night.
Earlier today, the aroma of homemade sauce traveled all the way to the main room, so I had to investigate. The sweetness of sizzling garlic and onions filled the kitchen, along with the gentle rhythm of her knife as she sliced plum tomatoes.
I smiled at the sight of her unruly curls piled high on her head with a few strays poking out here and there. Her usual baggy jeans and loose t-shirt might hid her figure from the other guys, but it didn’t matter. I already knew the bangin’ body she tried to hide.
I move into the room, but she’s too engrossed to notice. “Smells great, babe.”
She startled, then turned, gripping the knife. “Geez, you scared me.”
“Had to see what smelled so good.” I closed the distance between us and leaned over the pot.
“My mother’s Sunday sauce.” She angled the cutting board and pushed the chopped tomatoes into the pot. “I had Speed do a grocery run for me earlier.”
