“They let you out early!”
“Did you get your north-facing cell this time?”
Mac is the first to step up to me with a wide grin. “Damn shame Yvette did her job and got you out. I was hoping you’d break into double digits with your mugshots.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cade’s head jerk towards me. But my gaze skips past him, locking instead on the wall across the room, lined with rows of our mugshots.
I meet Mac’s eyes again with a small shrug. “But I’m still winning.”
Mac just rolls his eyes and walks away as Kurt approaches… lookingpissed.
“Heard you had a visitor yesterday,” he says in a low voice, glaring at me.
“Not now,” I mutter, taking a step to move around him.
“Yes, fuckingnow.” His hand snaps out to my shoulder, and he grips it hard. Then his gaze flicks to Cade. And when it comes back to me, it’s a fucking inferno.
I shove his hand off me. “I just got out for savingyourass. If I hadn’t shut John down, both of us would have been processed by now, and who knows what kind of bullshit charge he’d have cooked up. So you can fucking wait a couple hours before you come swinging.”
The anger rolling off him is palpable, but I don’t give him time to answer. My hand finds Cade’s arm, and I grab him, pulling him with me through the noise and down the hallway to one of the bedrooms I use when I’m too drunk to ride or when Mom is too much.
“I’m just grabbing some clothes,” I say as I step into the room.
Cade shuts the door behind us, sealing out the noise of the clubhouse as I head for the dresser and strip off my cut and T-shirt.
“Because you were in jail?” he asks, looking around the room that has just a bed, a dresser, and a couple of flags and posters tacked to the walls.
“A holding cell,” I correct, reaching into my pocket to pull out a cigarette. Then I grab my lighter and… Jesus fucking Christ. Ifthis isn’t the best cigarette I’ve ever had. My eyes close as smoke travels down my throat, and the ache in my body gives way to a lazy, delicious hum. I exhale slowly, and tension bleeds out of me with the smoke.
Over twenty-four hours without one, and it wasn’t even my fucking choice.
When I open my eyes again, Cade is just simply watching me. His hair is its usual mess, with soft strands falling across his forehead, begging me to fist them and tug until he tilts his head back for me. His blue eyes match his blue crewneck as they slowly and easily scan over the ink on my shoulders.
And he doesn’t even ask why I was in a holding cell.
I take a drag of my cigarette again and let the silence stretch. He looks completely unbothered.
I wonder how far into this, and me, he’s willing to get, and what it takes to shake him…
“I punched a Mountie,” I say, blowing the words out on a cloud of smoke. A faint sunbeam trying to break its way through the clouds filters into the room, highlighting the haze.
His gaze flicks up to meet mine, and I see the quiet curiosity swirling in his eyes.
I take a step closer, holding him in place with my stare. “He touched my tools.”
One eyebrow lifts, but barely.
“Because they were raiding our garage and our clubhouse.” I take another step forward, and now we’re only inches apart.
As I take another drag, his chest rises and falls, and he stands up a bit straighter.
I blow the smoke out and tilt my head as I dare him to ask why.
Cade’s eyes flick between mine, and just when I think he isn’t going to push for more, his eyes drop to my mouth. “Looking for…?”
I smile. “Evidence to lock me away for good.”
He pulls in a breath and lifts his eyes to mine again. And there it is. The flicker I keep catching in him. The spark that wants to ignite, but never quite makes it… unless I bring him right to the edge.
