I stilled my body and stepped into him, my arms circling his waist, and my chin resting against his chest. “Thank you.”
His hand pressed against my hair before he ran it down my back. “I’ve got you, Ayda. No matter what happens, you getting hurt is not an option.”
“I know,” I blew out with confidence. “Like I said, I was just having a moment. I needed to be reminded that we’re the ones with the plan. We all know what we’re supposed to be doing in any given situation. I just… the memories of the chaos catch up with me sometimes.”
“You and me both,” he admitted quietly. “You good? I have no problem staying like this with you if you need me. I can make the men work twice as hard as they need to. Perks of being King.”
“Well, you’re warm, and you smell good, but I guess I should get to work, too. We’ve got a lot to do before tonight, and I may need to call in those perks later with the dress I’m planning to wear.” I pushed up on my toes and pressed my lips to his, before releasing him with a reluctant sigh. “Get to work, Tucker.”
“Is that how it’s going to be from now on? You telling me what to do?”
I laughed gently and shook my head. “I could try, but you always do what you want anyway. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”
“Damn right, I do.” Drew swatted my ass hard and sent me on my way.
I stumbled and rubbed my ass cheek with exaggeration,giving him a small smile as I finally got to work.
It was easier with a crowd there to keep my attention on the task at hand. There was really only one area we could set up for the band. The tables were all easy to move, but the booths were a different story. Once the stage was set, though, it gave a really odd feeling of being in the middle of some dive bar that you’d see in the movies. It felt a little like something fromPulp Fiction,which also left me with a slightly ominous feeling at the same time.
We lost a few of our work crew when Drew directed some of the guys out to invite the people from town to the celebration, which was now officially part an engagement party. Sloane and Libby had gone through the invites we’d printed out and drawn in the word ‘engagement’ with a sketch of a ring next to it.
Rusty headed to the kitchen to count out inventory of what was needed because the club was reimbursing them for the stock, but he’d refused any money for time or venue. He said that was our engagement present. Sutton even steered us toward a couple of off-duty officers as security so we could drink without having to obtain a liquor license. Everything was falling into place almost too neatly, but I didn’t allow myself to think about thewhat iffactor anymore. We could only control what happened when it played out. We couldn’t make a path for them to follow.
As I looked over at Drew talking to his men, I went back to that happy place where the weight on my finger reminded me of the future beyond tonight, and I smiled to myself.
I was going to marry that man.
Chapter Thirty-One
DREW
Battles are won with fists. Wars are won with minds. I was determined to keep my hands to myself for the duration of the night, no matter how twitchy I got. With a smile on my face, I welcomed whoever I saw approaching the diner. Some of the more uncertain locals looked between the patch on my cut and down at my feet, never quite comfortable enough to make eye contact. Most, however, had changed their opinions since they’d realized we’d almost been victims of a huge explosion ourselves.
Ayda was tucked away safely in the crowds of the unusually packed diner. Her hands were delicately twirling a plastic glass of champagne as she spoke to whoever commanded her attention. She was getting good at acting. To anyone else, she probably looked relaxed and at ease. To me, she looked edgy. I could tell by the number of times she went to tuck her hair behind her ears, even though there was no more to push back. I could tell by the way she shifted her weight from foot to foot and the way she constantly looked at the ceiling when she spoke, trying to gather some fortitude and courage from the gods, no doubt. She tried her hardest to not keep looking at me, but it was pointless. The second our eyesconnected, her shoulders would relax, and a small smile would play on her lips.
I was always by the entrance of Rusty’s, standing in place so I could see inside the diner and outside, where the Hounds of Babylon and their bikes were filling up the parking lot with laughter and jokes befitting a fake sixteenth birthday slash engagement party. The night was getting darker, and with the darkness came a sense of dread. Not because I was expecting anything bad to happen, but I’d lived a life that led me to remember what the shadows could bring with them at every turn. That morning I’d been a man in love, high on the idea of a future spent curled around the woman I adored. That night I was the president of The Hounds of Babylon, and everything good in my world was pushed to the back of my mind to concentrate like a leader should. The crown became heavy some days.
Tonight was one of them.
I wore it with a smile, regardless. There was power in position, and there was adrenaline in this MC life.
Slater was standing at the bottom of the steps in the parking lot, while I stood at the top. Jedd was at the end of the lot, talking to a group of prospects and trying to convince them all that he had, in fact, knocked me out cold during a boxing match one time. They weren’t buying it. Neither was I. Jedd glanced at Slater and gave him a nod. Slater nodded in return before he glanced up at me and did the same. I gave him a wink of acknowledgment and we returned to our previous positions.
“Everything clear?” Sutton asked as he appeared out of nowhere, walking like the Clint Eastwood he loved so much.
“For now,” I muttered quietly, watching him climb thestairs before he came to a stop in front of me.
“Any sign of anyone from Babylon High?”
There was a tension in his voice. One I understood. The only thing keeping him going right then was the idea of getting hold of the bastard who touched his daughter. The only thing keeping him focused was the idea of ripping that guy’s fingers off and shoving them up his ass to see how he liked being violated with the same rough hands.
“Not yet,” I answered with a shake of my head.
“It’s Tate’s birthday party. They should be her—”
I cut him off with a firm slap on the shoulder, glancing behind him as I saw a group of football players walking down the street, laughing and joking. They were at ease, each one of them jumping around, roughing someone’s hair or slapping their friend on the back. All their faces were bright and cheerful, like typical teenagers who didn’t get out much and were desperate to party with the big, bad MC.
Sutton turned around slowly on hearing their cheering and laughter.
