His eyes flickered. Something old flashed there. He didn’t hide it fast enough, not from me.
“I never said it did,” he answered quietly. “I just want it to stop throwing stray bullets at my head while I visit my best friend.”
Best friend. That tone was unmistakable.
Loyalty sounds different coming out of a real mouth than it does in astory. It’s heavier.
My gaze drifted to the strap on his shoulder again.
“And carry someone else’s apocalypse for them,” I said. “Don’t forget that part.”
“You sound like you have a problem with me doing that,” he said.
“I have a problem with anyone dragging that kind of heat, whatever it even is, over our line,” I said. “But I’m not blind either. I know you didn’t choose it.”
That part was true. You don’t pick up a bag like that because you want to. You pick it up because leaving it behind feels worse. Makes things worse.
“You don’t have to like being here,” I added. “You just have to accept it. For now, you’ve got a roof, a drink, and a promise from Liberty that we won’t let someone put a bullet in your head while you sleep. It’s more than what most people get.”
“A hostage with benefits,” he muttered.
I smiled. Sharp. “You’re not that special,” I said. “Our bunnies get better perks.”
One of the newer club girls, perched near the jukebox, flipped her hair and snickered. “He’d make a cute bunny though,” she said.
“Bunnies?” he asked. “You have those here too?”
“What, you think just because we’re an all-female MC we don’t get to have groupies?” Raven asked him. “We like pretty distractions just as much as the next club.”
“You’re not my type,” Medusa called from the table. “Toosymmetrical. I like ’em fucked up.”
“Give it time,” he said.
A laugh broke out in response.
I fought hard against it and quickly hid my smirk.Almost got me.
The other girls moved in after that and I could see Jersey Boy mentally trying to put names to faces as the conversations flowed.
Rosé swung by, Arizona snapped a picture, and India lingered nearby with a book in hand.
Diamondback then hopped up onto the bar. I thought she was about to perform her own version of Coyote Ugly, but instead she put her feet on a barstool and leaned closer to Jersey Boy.
“So, Devil’s Aces,” she said. “You guys as scary as the stories say, or are you all just loud and shiny?”
“Depends on who’s telling the stories,” he replied. “And whether they’re still alive to finish them.”
California chimed in. “He has some bite.”
“Relax,” I said, my tone more of an order then a request. “He’s not here to impress you. He’s here because Liberty says so,” I reminded.
“Liberty say we can look?” Raven asked.
I could already see by her expression she was melting for him.This boy was going to be trouble.
“Look all you want,” I answered. “Just don’t touch the bag.”
“Noted,” India said from the doorway. “Bag is lava. Lava is bad.”
