Eventually, he’d learn all my secrets and I’d be screwed.
“So, how’d you end up with the Aces, then?” I asked, changing the subject.
His gaze moved from me to the ceiling and he let out a heavy sigh. “That’s a story for a different day, Ladybug.”
Chapter 13
Casper
Farrah was driving me insane.
After her big blowup, things had been better for a while. Once she knew I wasn’t going to take off, it seemed like she’d gotten a little more comfortable with the situation. Comfortable with Farrah wasn’t the same as comfortable with anyone else on the planet, though. I wasn’t sure if she’d ever lean on me the way I wanted her to.
Don’t get me wrong, I fucking loved it that Farrah could take care of herself. I’d been with chicks who played like they couldn’t change a lightbulb, and it had been irritating as shit. I was glad she could handle herself in most situations, but it was the situations that she should have called me and didn’t that pissed me off.
She’d found a job working at a little salon not far from her apartment, and she seemed to dig it. Instead of getting a job with Farrah like they’d planned, Callie had decided to stay home with Will for a while, and I knew Farrah had been really nervous about going it alone. She’d never said anything, though, and after a week, her natural bravado had relaxed into actual confidence.
One night I’d gone to Farrah’s place after working on shit with the club for a couple of days, and her car was in the lot, but she didn’t answer her door. I was leaning on her hood, wondering where the hell she was, when I saw her coming down the sidewalk. On a fucking skateboard. Turned out, her car hadn’t started for the past two days and instead of telling anyone about it—like maybe the guy she was sleeping with who had access to a state-of-the-art garage—she’d started using a ratty-ass old skateboard to get there.
I would have laid into her—it was stupid as fuck that she hadn’t said anything—but goddamn, she looked sexy as hell. She was wearing some loose Dickies, red Vans, and a tiny-ass white tank top, and it was like looking at my dream girl at fourteen. Instead of yelling at her, I’d rushed her into the house and banged her against the front door.
She dropped her guard during sex. It was one of the only times that I could get a read on her, so I used it to my advantage. It seemed to calm her down, at least for a while, and I really dug the relaxed Farrah.
There were a ton of things about Farrah that drove me up the wall, but she’d still come a long way from the girl I’d first met. She rarely drank anymore, she found a good job that she seemed to enjoy, and even though we argued about it, she wouldn’t let me help pay any of her bills. She was acting like an adult—doing her thing without using Callie as a crutch, and there was nothing sexier than a woman who had her shit together.
She’d also gained back a little of the weight she’d lost. I still couldn’t figure out why she gained it and lost it like she did, but I was happy as hell that I’d never had to say anything about it. Her collarbone and hip bones weren’t as prominent anymore, her elbows and knees losing a little bit of their sharpness. She was beautiful before, but goddamn, she was a knockout when she gained a couple of pounds.
Shit was good. We’d settled into life and I was practically living with her, which she didn’t seem to mind. All the pieces were finally falling into place—Callie and Grease had settled into living together for the first time, Gram had found a senior center to hang out in when she wasn’t helping with Will, and Farrah was working and feeding her book addiction every time I turned around.
If a man who did what I did for a living could be content, that would be the word that described me.
But I should have remembered that the minute you settled in and thought things were good, that was when shit happened. Life was once again about to punch me in the throat, and I didn’t even see it coming.
I was on my way to the club after leaving Farrah exhausted in bed. She still refused to have anything to do with that part of my life, and I had to admit, it made things a little tense. I had to spend a shit ton of time there. I wasn’t trusted enough to go on any important runs yet, but I was making small trips for information and doing daily club shit.
I was also expected to be at the parties for members, and there were so many of them that there were parties all the fucking time. I wanted her with me at the parties, and asked her to go every time, but her answer was always no. Almost four months later and she still wasn’t over the shit that happened at Dragon and Brenna’s.
Poet had called and told me to get my ass to the club early, so I was surprised when shit was quiet as I pulled up. A new recruit was at the gate, and it was a little weird when he started scrambling to open it for me. We were both prospects, but the guy treated me like I was his boss. Idiot.
None of the bays were open, and it was silent as I hit the door to the main room. I took a quick look around, and for the first time since I’d been hanging around, there was absolutely no one inside. I almost turned around and left when I heard voices coming from the room off the back of the bar. It was a room the boys called “church” and I’d never been allowed inside—yet another thing I wasn’t trusted to be a part of.
I debated sitting down at the bar to wait, but as I walked toward the bar, Poet stepped into the doorway, his face emotionless.
“Come on in, kid.” He gestured with his hand and stepped back into the room.