“Thanks. I’ll wrap up the top layer of your wedding cake and squirrel it away in the freezer for you.”
I vaguely remember that’s a thing. “Deal.”
I pull a cup of java from the coffee station behind the bar. It’s a commercial setup because my ma insisted it would last forever. The first sip of the steaming hot bitter brew is heaven. It’s just what I need to jumpstart my brain cells.
A voice comes from the side, “That was a hell of a wedding, son.”
One quick glance over my shoulder is all it takes to recognize Mac, the man Nova told me was her grandfather’s best friend.
“You’re one of Rock’s boys,” he says bluntly.
“You already know that, since you’re at my wedding,” I tell him. I realize I sound rude, but I’m not sure what he wants.
He nods once. “The name’s Mac.”
Taking another sip of my coffee, I tell him, “I know who you are. Vulture’s best friend. I saw you at the PATCH rally.”
“That’s right, we rode together thirty years before he up and died on me.” He takes a drink of his coffee. “I knew him better than any man alive.”
I lean against the bar and give him my full attention because men like Mac don’t usually stand around shooting the shit for just no reason.
“Thanks for coming to our wedding,” I tell him. “I know it probably meant a lot to Nova.”
“It was a real nice event.” He looks into his mug. “She’s got her grandad’s backbone, that girl. Vulture always said she got the best of him and none of the worst.”
“She’s smart, strong, and capable,” I agree. “And beautiful. More so than any woman I’ve ever met.”
He makes a sound that might be approval. Then he sets his mug down on the bar with a thunk. The shift in his bearing and voice tone tells me we’re done making small talk.
“There’s something you need to know,” he says roughly. “There’s been a situation building since the funeral.”
“If it has to do with my wife, I want to know about it.”
“Nova’s got a problem,” Mac says. “He goes by the name of Devon Marsh. They went on a couple of dates and that was it.Vulture hated him. Said he was a bad seed. Vulture put the fear of God in him and he stayed away.” He picks up his mug again, wraps both hands around it. “While Vulture was alive, Devon stayed away.”
“Let me guess. Since the funeral he’s sniffing around her again, right?”
Taking a sip of coffee, he nods. “That’s what I hear. Since the funeral, the crazy fucker has been circling around, trying to get back with her. He even had the balls to show up at the trucking business looking for her. He’s been seen driving past her house. This fucker is getting more brazen by the day. Maybe he’s even sending her messages again. He used to do that.” He looks at me directly.
I think about the texts I’ve seen her silence on her phone yesterday morning without reading past the preview.
“Does he know about us getting hitched?” I ask.
“He knows,” Mac says. “Word travels fast in a town this size, and a Sons of Rage wedding with two hundred guests ain’t ever gonna slide by unnoticed.”
“How bad do you think this can get?”
Mac is quiet for a second before answering. “I’m worried enough that I’m standing here at six in the morning talking to a man I just met because Vulture can’t do it himself.”
When I don’t immediately answer, he says, “Just keep her close,” he tells me. “And don’t let that slick-talking fucker pull the wool over your eyes. He’s up to no good, I fuckin’ guarantee it.”
He pushes off the bar and meanders through the wreckage of the party, exiting through the front door.
Turning this situation over in my mind brings all my protective instincts to the surface. I know we haven’t spoken much, but she never mentioned anything about this Devon Marsh fucker. I’m her protector. I have a right to know when danger is near. What I want to know is why she felt she needed to keep this from me. After making us both coffees, I head upstairs because this is a conversation that we need to have right now. Nothing that involves her safety can wait.
I knock once before opening her bedroom door because it’s polite behavior and our agreement covers personal privacy. Thank fuck Nova is already up and dressed. She’s wearing jeans and a shirt with her business name on it. Her hair is pulled back and she’s pulling on her work shoes. Her phone is in her hand and she’s scrolling through something that looks like a route schedule.
She looks up when I come in. It only takes a second for her to see the coffee in my hand.
