Gator snorted. “Uh, because my ass is in this seat drinking a beer and chatting with you instead of heading to Texas with the entire club for an execution.”
“Oh…” Beth glanced down at her hand in her lap. The nails were a mess. She didn’t bother with fancy tips or designs since her hands were in water and dog fur all day, but she typically kept them neat and short. A few were chipped and jagged now, probably from struggling with Jason.
“P-cess, you know it’s fucking wrong to ask Saint to keep something this big from your old man, right? From his president. That kinda shit’s considered a betrayal and will get the patch stripped from his back.”
Her heart sank so low that it might be lying on the floor. “I know,” she whispered, picking at the ragged edge of a chipped nail. “I know I was wrong to ask him not to say anything. I just…”The tip of her nose tingled in a way that indicated tears would soon follow. “Shit,” she whispered, shifting her gaze to the starry sky to keep them from falling. “Is that why Saint didn’t stay? Is he worried Copper will be able to tell? Or is he pissed at me for asking him to keep it a secret?”
“Nope,” Gator said, popping the p with an exaggerated pooch of his lips. “Told you, he went to get his dick sucked.”
“Right.” Why did that make her feel worse? It shouldn’t matter what Saint did or with whom. They’d hung out for a few days while he did a pity job and rescued her from her abusive boyfriend. The least the guy deserved was a night out and a hookup. How selfish was she to assume he’d want to hang around her pitiful ass for another night? Hell, for all she knew, he had a steady girlfriend who’d been missing him over the past few days.
“You’re hot, p-cess.”
She wrinkled her nose. “What?” Was there something more than alcohol in his cup? “What the hell are you talking about, and what’s it got to do with anything?”
Gator laughed long and loud. “Saint just spent two days with a sexy woman on the back of his bike, wrapped around him like a damn octopus. Then he had to sleep with the same sexy woman five feet away in a different bed. A woman he couldn’t touch if she were the last damn broad on earth. The poor bastard needs some fucking relief. What man wouldn’t? He might have the name, but trust me, he ain’t that kinda saint. None of us are.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she mumbled, but her face flamed to incendiary levels as she digested Gator’s words.
There was no way a gorgeous man like Saint found anything about her attractive over the past two days. She was an emotional and physical mess. Gator had to be wrong. Most likely, Saint hated the idea of keeping secrets from her father and was happy to be rid of her after two days glued to her side.
Of course, the man wanted a break, and he deserved one.
If the thought of him with some random woman bothered her, that was her own problem to get over.
“This a party for two, or is there room for one more?”
“Lindsey!” Beth flew out of her chair and threw herself at her friend, whom she hadn’t seen in far too long.
“I am so mad at you,” Lindsey mumbled as her words became muffled by Beth’s hair.
“I know, I’m a horrible friend. Please don’t hate me. I’ll do better.” Adopted by Toni and Zach at thirteen, Lindsey had faced serious challenges in her early years. She was about eight years older than Beth, who’d idolized her ‘older cousin’ growing up. In her late teens, Lindsey went from someone she followed around like an adoring puppy to her closest friend. Today, she was another person Beth alienated herself from, thanks to Jason. All she could hope now was that Lindsey didn’t hold a grudge.
“Never. I love you too much.” Lindsey released her and sat in the free chair on Gator’s other side. “So,” she said, narrowing her shrew eyes in Beth’s direction. She pointed toward her own neck, indicating the scarf. “Wanna tell me the real story and not this bullshit about being too busy with work to keep in touch?”
Shit. Why did everyone have to be so perceptive?
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE TINKLE OF the diner’s bells was as familiar to Saint as his phone’s ringtone. Not a week went by, hell, not more than two days passed before he was grabbing food or a coffee at Toni’s Diner. Once a biker-free establishment owned by Zach’s in-laws, who hated the MC, his ol’ lady opened the place to all when she took over, and it was practically a second clubhouse.
“Hey, Saint,” Lindsay called out as she restocked juice glasses behind the counter. “The other guys are here, usual table.” A few years ago, Lindsey took over as manager of the diner, letting her adoptive mother, Toni, step back from day-to-day operations in her role as owner. “Mel will be over with coffee and to take your order in a second.”
“Thanks, hon,” he said as he strode straight to the farthest booth against the window. The same table the club’s leadership sat at, as far back as he could recall. Sure enough, Copper, Maverick, and Rocket sat sipping coffee and talking.
Rocket took over as VP of the club almost fifteen years ago when Viper had been killed. Saint never met Viper, but the club had mourned his loss for years. As far as he was concerned, Rocket made a great VP. The guy was steady, thought before he acted, and had a mind for planning and organizing.
“Hey, Saint, thanks for meeting with us on short notice.”
“No problem.” As though he could refuse a call to sit down with the club’s top officers. “How’s Beth settling in?” The cushioned bench whooshed beneath him as he sat next to Zach and across from Rocket and Copper.
The president’s expression darkened. “She’s… okay. Not our usual spitfire. Why? Anything you want to tell me?”
Shit, why the hell had he brought her up?
Because you can’t stop thinking about her and how you left her fucking ex alive when he deserved a pine box six feet under.
He’d dropped her at the clubhouse five days ago with every intention of finding some mindless relief. Instead, he’d ridden straight home, downed half a bottle of Jack, and passed out for fourteen hours.
