Stand Off (Predators MC 2)

He climbed the flight of stairs to her apartment. Colton, one of the brothers¸ had stayed here briefly before he had married his wife and they had moved to a small town outside of Queen City.

Knocking on the door, he didn’t have to wait long before it opened, and a flustered Casey stood, staring at him.

“Am I too early?”

“What? No… You’re exactly on time,” she said, ignoring the smoke billowing out of the apartment behind her.

“Is something on fire?” He tried to keep his lips from twitching as she tried to pretend the smoke wasn’t there.

“No, I had a small mishap, but everything’s fine,” she said without moving from the doorway.

“Can I come in?”

When she nodded, taking a step back and opening the door wider, Max strode in, coming to a stop. Turning, he saw her frantically moving the door back and forth, trying to get the smoke to leave the room.

“I’ll open a window,” she said, closing the door hastily.

Moving around him, she opened her living room windows while Max watched silently. The apartment wasn’t very large. The living room was barely big enough to hold a red leather couch and coffee table. She had a small table that she had set with plates and what looked like a pitcher of iced tea.

“I won’t be a minute. Have a seat.” She waved at the table as she walked to the small kitchen that was separated from the room by a counter with a couple of stools.

He remained standing, observing her as she took a burned pan of goo off the stove. Bending down, she pulled another pan from underneath the counter, deftly tossing some vegetables into it.

“I’m sorry. I had it done, but the phone rang, and I became distracted. It won’t take me a minute to make another batch.”

“What are we having?”

“Fajitas. I hope you like Mexican. I made some rice.” She motioned to the counter. “If you want to help, you could set those on the table.”

Max didn’t think she liked him staring at her. Setting the food that was placed on the counter onto the table, he then opened the tortilla warmer and saw she had made fresh flour shells. His ass sat down in the chair.

“I love Mexican. Did you make these yourself?” he asked, placing a spoonful of rice into a shell and eating half of it in one bite.

“Yes,” Casey answered, placing a large platter filled with chicken and vegetables down on the table. “I have beer if you’d like one.”

“Tea’s fine,” Max replied, already reaching for another shell. He was in heaven. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a home-cooked meal. At the clubhouse, the members all fended for themselves. He had hoped after finding out that Grace could cook like a chef that her friend CeCe would be as adept, but she had never offered to cook for him. Most of the time, they would eat out before going to the clubhouse or her house. When he had stayed the night at her house, he would take her out to breakfast before heading out on the long road back home.

She poured them both drinks. “I have plenty. You can take what’s left back to the clubhouse when you leave.”

“There’s not going to be anything left.” Max shook his head.

As he ate, he noticed a pair of pictures hanging on the wall behind her. Casey was standing next to one of the best-looking men Max had ever seen, and they were looking into each other’s eyes while Casey cupped his cheek in one hand. In the other picture, they were sitting on a towel on the beach, surrounded by seashells. The man was showing her a starfish, and they were both staring down at it as if it was a miracle of nature. There was something special about the picture, but Max couldn’t place what it was.

“Is that the boyfriend?” He nodded to the picture behind her head.

“Jayce? No, that’s not him.”

Max waited for her to tell him who it was, but she remained silent, continuing to eat.

“He know you’re cheating on him?”

Casey laid her fork on her plate, frowning. “I don’t consider eating lunch with you cheating on Jayce, but for your information, I’m not seeing him anymore.”

“I wasn’t talking about me,” he said, surprised that had been what she had thought he meant. “I was talking about the man in the pictures. It’s obvious you care about him, and that picture wasn’t taken too long ago.”

“Oh.” She picked her fork up again. “How do you know those pictures aren’t old?”

“Mugg told me you went on vacation to the beach two months ago, and you’ve been wearing that necklace since you came back.”

Her hand went to the silver starfish necklace around her throat. “I see.”

When she continued to refuse to explain who the man in the picture was, Max held himself back from asking outright. He was here for lunch, not to pick apart her private life, even with the burning curiosity about the man who had given her the necklace she wore constantly.