Che (Golden Glades Henchmen MC 2)

There was only one way this whole situation was going to end.

I was going to help her out of a tough spot. And then she was going to serve me divorce papers.

"Hey, if Sass is with the girls," Huck said, coming in behind me, "why don't you head out with McCoy to check on the Chechens? Remy took a shift last night. Seeley is going to go tonight. But they're more likely to be active now."

I didn't want to leave her. But she was in a house full of the guys. And not to mention Ayanna, who'd always been able to hold her own.

"Yeah, okay."

"Don't bring that fucking thing," he said, waving at the car. "It gets too much attention."

I would have much rather been doing a stakeout in air conditioning than on my bike, but even I had to admit he was right. People checked out expensive cars. And men who could afford them looked into them more.

"I wasn't planning on it," I said, closing the hood, then making my way out of the garage.

About an hour later, McCoy and I were back in Miami, casually sitting inside a cafe across from the Chechens' main headquarters.

"That's a lot of cars," McCoy mumbled, letting out a slow breath.

It was.

Before whoever this newcomer was showed up, the Chechens had been relatively low in numbers. Ten or twelve of them as a whole, and most of them not higher-up members. But judging by the types of cars gathered in the driveway and on the street, someone had called an important meeting. And all the higher-ups had shown.

We'd each taken a stroll down the street under the guise of smoking a cigarette, even though neither of us smoked, just to grab a couple license plates to hand off to Arty. There'd been several cars from way out of state. Not even local Georgia or Alabama, but as far off as New York and Massachusetts.

We were both on the same page in thinking that was not good news.

"So, your wife," McCoy said an hour later as we each nursed our third cups of coffee because the barista claimed we had to keep buying if we were going to continue taking up "valuable real estate" by the windows.

"So, my wife," I repeated.

"She's interesting."

"You seem to like her." That came out almost like an accusation since McCoy rarely liked anyone when he first met them. Cynical by nature, he needed to feel someone out for a while, give them a chance to prove themselves, before he would give them his stamp of approval.

"She did you a favor. In a big way. With nothing in it for her. Granted, she'd been a kid at the time, and now she is back expecting something. But, I think, only because she's so out of her depths. Otherwise, I think she would have kept on keeping on without asking anything from you."

"That's probably true," I agreed. "But aren't you usually suspicious of people who seem like they don't want anything from someone?"

"Maybe if she stepped to you now with this whole arrangement, I'd be more inclined to question her motives. But back then when all you were was a street racer and a part-time car chopper? I mean we did okay, but we weren't swimming in it, so her motive couldn't have been money like it might now. I think it says a lot about a person to sign away several of their prime years just because they were thankful for a few driving lessons."

"She had it rough growing up," I explained. "She liked having someone who gave her time and attention. I probably should feel guilty for taking advantage of that to make this arrangement."

"Did you make the offer, or did she?"

"She did."

"Then I don't see why you'd feel guilty about it. Besides, it seems like she's been focused on her business, not her personal life since then. So this arrangement hasn't had much of an impact for her. But it's had a huge one for you."

That was fair enough.

Though, as her old friend, as someone who knew how much she had to offer, I had to admit that it bothered me that she'd seemed to have a singular focus in life since I'd last seen her.

No friends.

No lasting relationships.

Not even a home to come back to.

My life had made a lot of changes since those days. A new career, new friends that became like family, a new home. And it bothered me more than I had a right to be upset about it that the young, vibrant, interesting woman who had so much to offer the world just seemed to draw her walls more comfortingly around her, keeping everything and everyone away from her, focusing only on building a career, getting respect, making a name for herself.

There was nothing wrong with work ethic.