With the pressure closing in from the Hellhounds, I resisted the pull between me and Callie and concentrated on keeping her safe and healthy.
It was the best I could offer.
I tapped the paper again. “Jarrad’s going with you.”
Her lip curled. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Good, because Jarrad would rather wipe his ass with poison ivy than babysit anyone.” I’d chosen him because he stayed calm in a crisis, he knew the roads, and he’d keep his hands off Callie. I trusted most of my guys, and I’d seen Callie take care of herself more than once.
That didn’t mean I’d put her in a truck with Ricky or the prospect whose bike she’d fixed a few days ago. The conversation alone would make any of us want to throw ourselves out a window.
Nose still scrunched, Callie took the paper and shoved it into her pocket. “When?”
“Half an hour.”
“What the fuck is taking so long?” Ricky stormed across the yard.
Callie flinched and looked away, her hands curling at her sides.
Damn it.
My heart did a funky little tap dance, and I hooked my thumbs in my pockets to keep from rubbing my chest.
I’d thought I saw her flinch before but it had been so quick I hoped I’d misread the situation.
“Go get lunch before you head out.” I slid into the space between her and Ricky, cutting him off and giving her a directive that kept her away from him and somewhere comfortable.
“Not hungry.” She shook her head, her chin jutting out in a mulish expression.
I met her gaze with a steady look. “It wasn’t a question. Jarrad doesn’t like to stop on the road, so you need to fuel up.”
“What if I need to take a piss?” She said it the same way Colt would, with a challenge in her eyes and a hint of daring begging me to argue with her.
“I’ll let him know he needs to take your femininity into consideration.” I motioned at the house.
She paused just long enough to peek over my shoulder at where Ricky argued with Dylan about the latest batch of beer.
Her lips puckered in a grimace full of disdain before she brought it under control and headed toward the house with long, easy strides.
Her braid swayed side to side, and my palm itched to hold it, to wrap it around my fist and pound into her until we both came.
Not happening, but I sure as hell could imagine it well enough.
“Ricky.” I set my hands on my hips and faced him and Dylan.
Dylan ducked his head and found somewhere else to be so fast he nearly left skid marks behind.
Ricky sauntered over, his black jacket snug over his chest and a wide smile showing his canines. “Yeah, boss?”
“You having fun shouting in my yard?” I stared him down, waiting for it to dawn on him that getting my attention wasn’t the boon he thought.
He shrugged and laughed. “Had to do something. Did you taste that swill? I could piss in a bottle and it would be better than that.”
“If you have a problem with a supply, you bring it to me. What did you expect Dylan to do about it?”
His lips flapped with a splutter. “Nothing. I mean…” He ran a hand across the back of his neck, then pulled on his earlobe. Nervous stress sweat gathered under his arms. “Shit, man. I didn’t mean nothing by it. Just wanted to shoot the shit, you know?”
“So you decided to complain.” I kept my voice low and even, forcing him to pay attention.
