I love her. Somehow in the last fourty-eight hours, June Calloway has burrowed herself deep into my bones.
“You’re gonna stay here with the women,” I tell her, shoving this new development to the back of my mind.
Her lips turn down. “What? Why? Where are you going?”
“Out.”
She wrinkles her nose, making me want to kiss it. “Out? What does that even mean?”
Damn. How do I explain to her that she will never know what I’m doing when it comes to the club.
“I—”
Roxy shoots me a wink before reaching across the table and squeezing June’s hand. “You have to trust your man, sweetie.”
June holds Roxy’s stare, a reel of emotions playing out across her face. Confusion, frustration, worry.
“I do trust him,” she says softly.
Christ. I didn’t know how much I needed to hear those words until they left her lips. I kiss her again, harder this time, claiming her mouth in front of everyone.
“Be good,” I murmur against her lips.
Her eyes flick between mine, searching for answers she won’t find. “I will.”
Pecking her lips once more, I turn and make toward the door.
“Johnny.” Stella catches my arm, her gray eyes so like our mom’s, full of worry. “Be careful.”
I give my little sister a quick hug. “Always am, squirt.”
“I fucking hate being in a cage,” I grumble, shifting uncomfortably.
“Don’t we fucking all,” Eagle agrees from behind the wheel, his eyes laser focused on the road ahead.
“Bikes would be too loud,” Tacoma says, looking over his shoulder.
This I knew, but I still fucking hated it. Rain or shine, I preferred to have my knees in the breeze.
Bane cracks a window, letting in the cool night air. “Stop bitching. At least you don’t have Gator’s fat ass on your lap.”
“Fuck you,” Gator grunts, doing his best to make himself smaller.
“Both of you shut the fuck up,” Bash sighs.
My lips twitch. Our SAA has been in a perpetual bad mood since he fucked up and ended things with Hattie Lynn. One day he’ll get his head out of his ass and get his woman back. Until then, we’re stuck with the grump.
“Pull off here, Pop.”
I glance out the window. Here, where? It’s pitch black out here in the middle of fucking nowhere. This is BFE territory. (Bum Fuck Egypt) There ain’t a streetlight for as far as the eye can see.
Eagle pulls onto the shoulder about a hundred yards from the dirt road that leads up to the cabin and kills the headlights.
“We’re walking from here, boys,” Tacoma says, checking his piece.
Climbing out, we gather around the hood of the SUV, where Tacoma spreads out a map. He points just behind the cabin’s location. “Story, you and your boys circle around to the back of the property. Red, y’all take the east side.” Tacoma lifts his head. “My team will hit the front.”
We all nod, pulling out our weapons and checking them one last time.
