Brooke’s gaze ping-ponged between the men as they began to argue. Big as he was, Jinx had a baby face and seemed considerably younger than the rest of the men. Made sense he’d want to prove himself as an equal.
“Jinx, this isn’t a commentary on your ability. I wouldn’t let any of you go alone. Never turn down backup.”
“Yeah, all right. I hear ya.” Jinx nodded at Curly then relaxed back in his chair.
Clearly, these men respected Curly and his authority if they heeded his advice so easily. Brooke tried to reconcile the man standing above her with the one she’d read so many terrifying articles about when she’d finally broken down and Googled him.
The man who’d run a drug ring.
The man who’d sold weapons all up and down the east coast.
The man who broke laws as a hobby.
“You know,” Lock said, finally letting his voice be heard. “That farm would be a great fucking place for a clubhouse. It’s in shit condition now, but we could turn the barn into a few apartments, and his guys could renovate the farmhouse into a clubhouse. Maybe our goal should be to run Prick out of town.”
Run him out of town? Brooke shifted in her chair as the conversation took a turn she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Curly must have sensed the change in her. He squeezed her shoulders but didn’t steer the discussion away from talk of taking Prick’s home from him.
She zoned out a bit as the men went back and forth with details of where Prick hung out, how to approach him, and gain his trust. At least if the cops arrested her, she could honestly say she hadn’t paid attention to exactly what they were planning, right? Maybe this was a huge mistake, and she should focus on ending the dog fighting ring herself. Prick’s furious face floated in front of her vision, and she nearly groaned out loud. As capable as she was on her own, there was a time to admit when she was in over her head, and when dealing with a man like Prick, she was way out of her depth. With the cops’ apathy, this seemed her only course of action for now. To save those dogs, she’d do damn near anything. Even risk her soul by tying herself to a gang of bikers.
Next thing she knew, all the guys were rising from the table, and she was blinking herself back to the room.
“Nice to meet you, Brooke,” Tracker said as he came around the table then patted her shoulder. “Looking forward to seeing you again soon.”
Her face heated. This time she didn’t bother to state how she and Curly weren’t anything to each other, so they probably wouldn’t be hanging out. She was too busy being amazed at how sweet and kind these gruff-looking men had been to her when her ex-husband’s polished and perfect-on-paper friends had never been anything but judgmental snobs. Some had been downright antagonistic. And had her husband ever made her feel included, important, or wanted?
Hell no.
He’d laughed along with his friends when they questioned her taste, made fun of the small town she’d grown up in and whispered behind her back.
But it wasn’t the time for a trip down memory lane.
“Guess I better get going as well,” she said when the last man had filed out the door. A loud rumble of motorcycles kicked up. Her eyes widened, which made Curly smile.
“Beautiful music.”
With a laugh, she shook her head. “Guess you get used to it.”
“You come to crave it.”
She’d have to take his word for that one. Just as she was about to call Ray to her, Curly opened the fridge and pulled out two more bottles of beer. “Sit for a bit. Wanna make sure you’re good with all this.”
“Oh, I, uh…”
I should not stay.
She was already blurring the lines by being attracted to him, listening to him open up about his past, and letting him help her.
I should definitely not stay.
“Okay, I’ll hang out for one more beer.”
“Follow me.” He flashed her a sexy grin complete with sparkling blue eyes that basically had her trotting after him the same way Ray shadowed her.
Once in his den, she perched on one end of his couch. He took the other. “Make yourself at home,” he said, so she forced herself to relax against the worn cushions.
She curled up, tucking her feet underneath her bottom, then pivoted to face him. He sat angled in her direction as well, with one ankle propped on the opposite thigh. Ray sidled up to Curly and rested his head on a small spot next to the man.
Traitor.
This was the first time she’d seen him with his mop of curly hair pulled back into a man-bun, and she’d be lying if she didn’t admit it looked sexy as hell. Longer hair on men wasn’t her thing, but it fit him so well, and every time she thought of it, she couldn’t help but want to feel it sliding through her fingers.