Remy (Golden Glades Henchmen MC 4)

First, because when I got back to the house, somehow the party was still raging.

Second, because I was worried about Lark.

Even though she was locked up in a house that could in no way trace back to her. With a top-of-the-line security system and a pack of dogs, at least one of them being a solid attack dog.

She was still alone.

And injured.

Even if she wasn’t injured, it was clear that her self-defense skills probably only included ball-kicking and eye-gouging. Hardly enough to stand a chance if facing a group of guys if they came for her.

Which was why, even though I’d only managed to get two or three hours of sleep, I climbed my ass out of bed around eight, ready to get the day started.

“Come on, guys, let’s go outside,” I called to the dogs as I held my hand out to my macaw, so he could step up and go to his downstairs play stand that he liked better because he enjoyed being a part of the hustle and bustle of the household. “Up, bud,” I added, lifting my arm until he settled on my shoulder, then made my way into the bathroom to haul up the tortoise. Which was no easy feat, with the guy topping out at a cool hundred-and-two pounds.

“You look like Ace Ventura right now,” Alaric said from where he was sitting at the kitchen table, clutching a coffee between his hands like a lifeline.

He looked rough.

I would put money on him getting even less sleep than I had, on top of a lot of drinking. And fucking, judging by the hickeys on his neck and one that was down low near his hip.

Eddie, on the other hand, looked ready and rearing to go as he flipped French toast that he made with challah bread on the griddle. They were one of the best things he made, which was likely why Alaric was awake and not in his bed using multiple women as a blanket while he caught some sleep.

“I already tossed his pile of greens outside,” Eddie told me, nodding toward the tortoise I was still carrying.

“Thanks, man.”

“You were out late,” he added, giving me a raised brow look.

“What are you, his mother?” Alaric asked, snorting.

“Man, you better be glad I’m not your mama because I’d have a thing or two to say about the six chicks I saw leaving your room this morning.”

“Jealous?” Alaric asked.

“Worried about your hydration level, more like,” Eddie said, chuckling. “Looks like those prospects might give you a run for your money, though, man,” he added as he dropped some beaten eggs into a pan. “Boss man has them sharing a room, so they just had a fucking orgy in there.”

“They’ll fit right in then,” Alaric said, shrugging. “But seems like Remy over here got nothing.”

“Probably because of that battered girl with all the dogs,” Donovan said, walking in wearing, I shit you not, black silk pajama bottoms. The man took the fancy shit seriously. Right to his bed clothes.

“Battered girl?” Eddie asked, looking over at me.

“I didn’t hit her,” I said, offended he might even think that.

“Obviously,” Donovan agreed, trying to deescalate the situation as he moved between us on his way to the coffee machine. “But who did?”

“That’s what I need to figure out today. She, ah, she stole those dogs from a dog fighting ring,” I told them since our club wasn’t one for keeping shit from one another. “On her way out, she was almost caught. Got hurt. Then one of the dogs charged the attacker.”

“I hope he got a nice steak,” Donovan said, shaking his head. “She okay?”

“For the time being. It could have just been some nobody asshole, but I want to double-check before I can tell her it is safe to go back to her life.”

“I got nothing going on today if you want company,” Donovan said. “I actually got a little sleep, unlike that asshole,” he said, nodding toward Alaric who was hanging onto consciousness by a very thin thread.

“That’d be good. Dress up. I might have you go into a shop to get a feel for things.”

“Does he even know how to dress down?” Eddie asked, putting some French toast and eggs onto a plate, then dropping it down in front of Alaric loudly, making him jolt and slosh coffee over his hand.