“I’m guessing you want me on the back of your bike, right?”
Grateful to finally find some levity in her voice, I give her a tight smile. “Yeah, I prefer to have you at my side. If he were to come after us, my bike is faster and more maneuverable than whatever in the fuck he drives.”
“I don’t know what he drives now. He used to drive a Ram truck.”
“Oh fuckin’ course he did,” I mutter under my breath.
***
We head out together. I feel like we’ve cleared the air and settled something between us. I’d be surprised if she pushed back about her asshole stalker again. When she wraps her arms around my waist, I take off, careful to make sure no other vehicles even get close during the ride. I can only hope Devonisn’t stupid enough to approach us on the road, but if he does, I’m fuckin’ ready for anything.
Vulture’s Trucking Company comes into view, and I see a few scattered vehicles and bikes in the parking lot. Mac is standing in front of his bike with his arms crossed in front of him. I could swear his expression turns to one of relief as we pull in.
Nova jumps off my bike and quickly unlocks the office door, shouldering it open with the ease of someone who’s done it for years. The rest of us follow her inside. She takes off the helmet I bought for her and sets it on her desk.
The men all fan out towards the back of the building, and I hear the truck motors turn over one at a time. They’re warming the vehicles up, which makes sense. I see a coffee pot, go over, and make a fresh pot as Nova hands out assignments.
An employee I don’t recognize walks through the door and looks around. The name on his uniform says Buck.
Nova shoots him an annoyed look. “You’re late, Buck.”
The younger man shuffles over, sheepish, and takes the manifest she gives him. “I want you with Charles. The two of you are making restaurant deliveries today. Show him the ropes. Rover’s Pub needs extra bread. We’ve got it in the warehouse from the Flake’s Bakery run yesterday. Grab it and run.”
“You got it, ma’am.”
The two of them take off, and Mac wanders over with an empty coffee cup just as the pot finishes dripping. I grab the pot and pour his cup up to the brim.
“Mornin’, Mac. Thanks for the heads up earlier.”
He gives me a curious look. “You’re welcome. I’m surprised you two aren’t on your honeymoon.”
I shrug. “Work before play. Ain’t none of us rich around here. We work for our money. Our money doesn’t work for us.”
Mac wheezes out a laugh. “Ain’t that the damn truth.”
Nova walks by and growls at Mac, “You’re on my shit list, old man.”
Mac just smiles at her fondly. “You sounded just like your granddad there for a second, Nova.”
“Why are you telling Mica all about my personal business?”
Mac deadpans back, “Cause he’s your fuckin’ husband, girl. Why do you think?”
“Best get on the Hatchet’s Meat run. I hear they butchered an extra head of cattle. You’ll probably be running your ass off today.”
“I have got to be the unluckiest bastard on the face of God’s green earth.”
“You oughta thank God you’ve got work. My old man used to say idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”
Mac drains his cup, sets it down, and slaps me on the shoulder. “I’m turning out to like you a lot more than I thought I would. You’re not half bad for a Rager.”
When he walks off, I shout after him, “Them’s fightin’ words.”
Folks around these parts call the Sons of Rage brothers Ragers as an insult, but it’s kind of grown on us over the years.
Chapter 7
Nova
