“Well, there is that,” I admit with a sigh, moving out of the doorway to let her pass. She stops to nudge her shoulder into my biceps. Those stilettos put her within inches of my 6’5”.
“You ok?” she asks quietly. She knows me too well. We’re friends and business partners, and she’s way too perceptive.
“Never better kid. Now go, have fun. And remember—.“
She groans, cutting me off. “I know, I know. Guard my drink, stay where the bouncers can see me, and call you if anything sketchy happens. I’m thirty years old Colt. I can take care of myself. Been doing it a long time.”
With another nudge and a smile, she saunters down the hallway. I turn to watch, chuckling as I see Declan coming this way. Cara has made it her mission to get under Declan’s skin, and she’s doing a fucking great job.
As she corners him, running a red nail along the collar of Declan’s T-shirt, I can see his panic from here as he presses his back against the wall, inching sideways to escape her. Her mouth is curved in a smile, her eyes heated as she tosses her blonde mane. She would eat him alive if he ever gave in.
I don’t think she expects him to, honestly. But seeing the way her smile tightens as he walks away from her makes me think that maybe it’s not all fun and games for her. I catch her eye and give her a wink and a grin. She flips her hair again, winking back, then turns and struts away.
Declan’s eyes are wide as he stops in front of me. “Is she still behind me?” he asks, neck and shoulders tight.
“She’s coming back, man,” I say, looking over his shoulder at the now empty hallway. Then, gasping dramatically, I jump backward. Declan squeaks and bolts into Ransom’s office. Doubling over, I gasp through the laughter, “You’re such a dumbass.”
When I have a handle on myself, I head into the office to join my brothers. These after-work informal meetings started back at our first garage on Knight Street. We’d get together and plan for the next day, bullshit, and in Ransom’s case, fill the rest of us in on the next business steps. It’s not that we don’t have a say, but Ransom’s always been the idea guy, and it really fucking works for us. But it’s not a fucking dictatorship. If we don’t agree with him, we fight it out…sometimes physically.
“Colt,” Zach murmurs, handing me a can of sparkly water. It’s the cherry one, my favorite.
“Thanks, man,” I say, moving to lean against the windows next to Jonas. “What did I miss?” Ransom’s still behind his desk, with Zach and Declan in the chairs across from him. Kade is in the seating area with Nick and Maverick. The only one missing is Micah. Since he does all the hands-on custom work out of Knight St, he gets a pass. Besides, we usually fill him in on anything he missed when we get home. It works for him, so it works for us.
“I’ve been following a marketing guy,” Zach says, “who works out of a major agency in New York. His work is good, man. Better than good. I want him working for us.” He shifts in his chair, running his hands through his perfect hair. It falls right back into place, of course. The man would fit right in on a runway.
“Sounds like there’s a but…?” I prompt.
“He’s a cagey fucker. Goes by M. Miller and doesn’t have a photo on the website. He doesn’t reply to my emails, and he’s ignoring my phone calls.”
“Sounds like a pretty clear fuck off to me.”
Zach firms his sexy man lips and turns to a snickering Declan, punching him in the shoulder. Zach may be a pretty boy, but he grew up having to fight just like the rest of us. More even, considering he took it upon himself to protect his biological brother, Jonas, from the world. Foster care, fuck, the streets are not an easy place for anyone, but especially for someone on the spectrum like Jonas. Zach put himself between Jonas and the world every chance he got. Still does, come to think of it. But the fucker is vain as hell and he definitely practiced his ‘sexy man lips’ as he called them, in the mirror when we were teenagers.
“What’s so fucking funny, dickhead?” Zach asks.
Declan rubs his shoulder, still laughing. “She.”
We’re all staring at him now. Shaking his head, he expands. “Your marketing guy? The one you’re obsessed with? I did a little digging. M stands for Maya, you chauvinistic fuck. You’re trying to headhunt a woman.”
The rest of us join in the laughter, not because Maya being a woman is funny, but because it’s clear by the look on Zach’s face that it never occurred to him that the person responsible for some of the top automotive ads in the country is a woman.
A flush creeps up Zach’s neck, but he shakes his head and takes a sip of his scotch, then turns on Declan. “Why’d you run in here like you were being chased, man?”
Declan flushes and looks at the ceiling, hoping we’ll let it drop.
He should know better.
“Cara was paying him a little attention in the hallway. Boy got spooked.” I say, throwing him to the wolves. His glare promises retribution, but I’m not that scared. I have fifty pounds of muscle on him. Course, he doesn’t fight fair. He’s more likely to fuck around with his computers and lock me out of my house.
Ransom’s gritty voice cuts in. “If you’re so fucking scared of her, why do you keep fucking with her computer?”
All of us lean forward at this bomb. “What the fuck?” Nick asks Ransom, darting glances at Declan.
Ransom smiles, taking a sip of his drink. “He’s been fucking with Cara’s computer. Nobody on this floor has the problems she does. She has to call tech nearly every day. And who do you think comes to fix it?”
And we’re off. Advice and jokes start flying fast. Make a fucking move, she’s way too good for you, and you can’t handle that much woman, are some of the insights shared with Declan. What can I say, man has no game. Cara would tear him apart.
Our meeting breaks up soon after that, everyone scattering. I jump in my neon yellow Hummer…fucking thing makes me laugh every time I see it…and head out to the Dojo. I’ve been training with Becca for a few months. I’ve always been into martial arts, but my current fighting style would best be described as swift and brutal.
