Blood & Bones: Whip (Blood Fury MC 11)

“A lot can happen in a few days,” Stella answered. “Whip can give you directions, just stop out when you’re done with dinner. The ladies would love to hear more about this soul-searching cross-country trip.”

“You wanna come to the farm?” Whip asked Fallon.

She shrugged. “Do I have anything else to do?”

Yeah, me.

She continued, “I would love to hang out for a little bit. Whip, why don’t you follow me back to the motel and I can ride with you from there? Since you’re planning on—”

“Yep,” Whip said, cutting her off before she spilled their plans for later. “Can do that.”

“All right,” Trip said, not bothering to fight his grin. “We’ll see you in a little bit.” He whacked Whip on the back and steered Stella to the door.

What the fuck just happened?

He watched the prez and his ol’ lady exit Dino’s, leaving Whip alone with Fallon. “Don’t gotta come.”

She tipped her head toward the empty stool next to her, inviting him to sit down. “You don’t want me to?”

He straddled it and sighed. “Ain’t that… It’s just…”

“They’re going to be asking questions, right? Is that what you’re worried about? I’m good at deflecting questions that are no one’s business. I worked in the corporate world remember? So, don’t worry.”

If only it was that damn simple. Those women could draw blood from a damn stone.

“This place is something else,” Fallon said, once Whip tore her free of the sisterhood’s claws. “The building is not only amazing, I love that you all are so close. Those women are great. It’s hard to find a group of women that are warm and welcoming without even a hint of cattiness.”

“Yeah? What’d they ask you?” His asshole definitely loosened a bit after he got her away from the women, especially when they drove him away so he couldn’t eavesdrop.

“Just about my trip, that was all.”

There was no fucking way that was all they asked about. “Nothin’ else?”

“Well, they mentioned a few times how sweet and cute you are.”

“The fuck they did,” he growled.

Fallon laughed at his reaction. “They did. They’re very protective of you.”

“Don’t need their protection.”

“You’re like their little brother.”

He closed his eyes and groaned, making her smother another laugh.

“It’s fine,” she said, her amused tone making him open his eyes. He shot a quick glance to over where the women were gathered and Reilly gave him a thumbs up and a huge smile.

He turned his back on them, grabbed Fallon’s arm and guided her over to the bar. “Want another drink?” He grabbed the empty glass she was holding.

“Sure.”

Crystal was behind the bar and Rush was in one of those baby carrier things sitting on top of the bar as she poured herself a draft.

“You want the same?” Whip asked Fallon.

“Sure.”

“Crys, get her another Jack and Coke.”

“I can get it, Whip,” Fallon insisted. “She has the baby to take care of.”

“The kid’s knocked out.” And he was, Trip and Stella’s baby was passed out cold.

“And that’s why I’m finally getting a beer,” Crys informed him. “He fell asleep after Stella nursed him.”

He noticed but tried not to notice whenever the prez’s ol’ lady pulled out a damn tit to feed their kid. She didn’t give a fuck who was looking. Reese was a little more stealth about it and avoided the nip slips.

“And that’s stoppin’ you from gettin’ Fallon a drink?”

Crystal set her draft beer down and stared at him across the bar separating them. “Did you forget I’m no longer a sweet butt and not at your beck and call? Get it yourself.”

“A what?” Fallon asked, a deep crease wrinkling her brow. “Is this another term I need to learn?”

Crys raised both eyebrows at Whip, grabbed her beer and the handle of the carrier and, with a smile, said, “You’re welcome,” before she and the baby wandered away. Of course, leaving Whip to explain the bomb she just dropped.

He risked a glance at Fallon. Just what he thought, she was staring at him, waiting for an answer.

Was she one of those crazy feminists that would have a huge issue when it came to the sweet butts just like the women being considered “property” of their ol’ man?

Of course she would.

She owned her own damn sled, for fuck’s sake. She’d be the type of woman who would insist on riding her own Scout in formation instead of on the back of Whip’s sled.

That would never fly with his brothers. Especially Trip and the rest who were around during the original Fury or who were Originals, like Ozzy and Dutch.

They wouldn’t need explosives to destroy Hillbilly Hill, their reaction for an ol’ lady riding on her own during a club run would be enough to destroy, not only that mountain but the whole damn county.

“What’s a sweet butt?”

“Jack and Coke?” he asked, rounding the end of the bar and going behind it to find the whiskey.