Rowe (Henchmen MC Next Generation 4)

For getting to eat the food she’d prepared.

“How was therapy?” Billie asked, turning to me when Dezi’s head disappeared into the fridge.

“Fine,” I said, shrugging.

“You look like you’re hurting,” she said, raising her brows at me.

“Little bit.”

“And by little bit you mean your jaw is tight it is so bad,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Come on. Let’s take off the brace, and get more salve on,” she said, waving toward her bedroom.

Her table wasn’t set up this time, and the curtains were thrown open to reveal that whichever architect had designed her building was a fucking idiot because another apartment jutted out just five or so feet away, which meant that when her curtains were open, and their curtains were open, they could both see into each other’s bedrooms.

And, well, his curtains were open.

And he, ah, wasn’t wearing a goddamn stitch of clothing.

“What’s…oh,” Billie said, noticing my gaze looking out her window. “Hey, Manuel!” she called after jacking open the window. “Rowe, this is Manuel. Manuel does The Website That Must Not Be Named lest you summon one of those uber-religious ‘porn is evil’ sorts,” she explained to the man who waved a hand that glittered with an abundance of gold rings at her. “Don’t let the prudes get you down,” she called across the minuscule courtyard. “Sex work is real work and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Who’s your friend, doll face?” Manuel called, his gaze moving over me.

“Oh, this is Rowe. Rowe is an, ah, acquaintance of mine,” Billie explained.

Acquaintance.

That was what I was now.

Once, I probably would have been referred to as a “friend” or even a “future lover.” But I’d demoted myself to acquaintance.

“He doesn’t bat for your team,” Billie said, sounding apologetic.

“Shame. He’s a treat for the eyes,” Manuel declared, turning fully and making his way to the window. Exposed cock and all.

I noted that Billie didn’t agree with him.

“Are we still on for that potluck next week?” Billie asked.

“Absolutely, doll. You know the drill. Clothing optional.”

“Or, more accurately, strongly discouraged,” Billie shot back, smiling wickedly. “Manuel and his friends are nudists,” Billie explained.

“Does your friend want to come?” Manuel asked, a brow lifting.

“Come where?” Dezi asked, moving into the doorway with a giant bowl of soup, a spoon halfway to his mouth, not the least bit fazed by the naked guy across the way.

“Potluck,” Billie supplied. “A naked potluck,” she added.

“I’m down,” Dezi said, nodding.

“No, you’re not,” I growled, getting a raised brow from Dezi who was close enough to hear, but nothing from Billie since she was half-leaning out the window to toss something across the courtyard toward Manuel.

“Yeah, totally. Okay. See you there,” she said, turning, closing the window, then looking at the bowl in Dezi’s hands. “Well, Violet will be happy. We are going to need to order in again.”

“I think Fallon said Vi got a skip,” Dezi said, shrugging. “But it’s her loss… hold up,” he said, sticking the spoon in his mouth to reach for his phone, and answering with it still between his lips. “‘Sup?” he asked as he cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder to remove the spoon. “Yeah? I’m on my way. Okay. Yep. I’m out,” Dezi said, tucking the phone away again.

“What? Why?”

“Lead on those fuckers who fucked us over and sent you over a roof,” Dezi said. “Someone will pick you up later,” he added, already in action mode. Nothing got between Dezi and the opportunity to smash someone’s face in. Except, apparently, his food. “Any chance you got a big cup for me to take this with me?” Dezi asked, holding up the bowl.

With that, Billie set him up with a giant smoothie cup and sent him on his way.

Which left me alone with Billie again.

Sure, I’d seen her every day for the past several, but it never felt all that alone when the guys were all moving up and down the hallway on the other side of my bedroom door, occasionally even popping in without waiting for an answer to their knocks.

This felt a lot more intimate. Especially with Vi likely already on her way out of town. And the guys off tracking down the guys who’d caused all the pain I was dealing with.

“Are you disappointed?” Billie asked, making my head turn to find her watching me.

“About what? Dezi leaving? Not particularly.”

“Hey! He’s a giant puppy,” she said, shaking her head at me.

“Clearly, you’ve never seen him off his leash,” I shot back.

“I meant are you disappointed that you couldn’t go with him? Especially because of what you’re dealing with.”

“I want to be involved,” I admitted. “But I can barely fucking function. I would be a liability to them right now.” And maybe forever since no one could give me a concrete answer on if my back pain was going to ease, or if it was going to be something chronic I would be dealing with for the rest of my life.