“Did you know him?”
“I knew of him. His road name was Blade.” A snort escaped me at that. “Yeah, I know,” she said.
“What’s your road name?”
“I think forced road names are ridiculous,” she said. “It’s one thing to have a nickname that you go by. But just choosing a name for yourself? Lame. I’m assuming Colter isn’t a road name.”
“I was born in the backseat of a car on the way to the hospital, so in a way…”
“Your president has a road name.”
“Well, for obvious reasons. Raff is a nickname from when he and his brothers were kids. Riff and Raff.”
“Like who let the riff-raff in.”
“Exactly.”
“How’s he doing? I didn’t see what happened to him, but I heard him cry out when it happened.”
“He was stabbed. Fucker dug in and pulled up. We barely made it home.”
“He seems to be in good spirits.”
“He’s got a revolving door of women dressed in nurse costumes coming to dote on him.”
“Scrubs or slutty Halloween costumes?”
“What do you think?” I asked, making her shake her head. “Bikers and their club girls,” she said.
“Does it work the opposite way?” I asked.
“You mean did we have hot, muscular guys walking around in thongs, feeding us grapes and rubbing our feet? Shit. Lost opportunity…”
A surprised huff of a laugh escaped me at that.
“So no.”
“I think for most of us, the safety of a sisterhood was kind of the point. We didn’t want to invite men into that space.”
“Which makes how shit turned out especially rough.”
“Yeah,” she said, exhaling hard.
“Whoa, you okay?” I asked when she wobbled on her feet.
“I… yeah,” she said, touching her forehead, where she was starting to sweat. She looked pale too.
“You sure?” I asked.
She was trembling lightly.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she insisted, her hand sliding to her heart as the dog at her feet started to whine and nudge her.
“Hey, Doc?” I called, reaching out to press a hand to Dylan’s lower back. “Got a sec?”
“I’m fine,” Dylan said again, but she sounded less sure.
“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.”
