Page 31 of Archer (Dirty Misfits MC 3)
Only to find that I had been driving for less than half an hour.
“Good God,” I groaned.
Cole chuckled. “Struggling that much, huh?”
I paused and took in his figure sitting at the clubhouse kitchen table. “Aren’t you supposed to be working right now? Who the fuck is watching over—”
He waved his hand in the air. “Tanner and I are taking shifts. He goes tonight, I go tomorrow night, and we flip-flop back and forth.”
“Wait, this is a multi-night kind of affair?”
He paused. “Did you really think we’d accomplish everything in one nine-hour shift?”
I’m so fucked. “I need a beer.”
He chuckled and thumbed over his shoulder. “Plenty in the fridge since Porter dropped the habit.”
I walked over and ripped the door open, pulled out an ice-cold drink, and cracked it open before draining it down my throat. I tossed the glass bottle into the trash before retrieving another one, then flopped down in front of Cole and cracked that one open as well. I guess if there was any time to use alcohol to fade my mind a bit, it was now.
And I felt Cole’s eyes on me as I downed the second one at the drop of a hat.
“You good, Archer?”
I cleared my throat and slammed the bottle against the table. “Ah, that was good.”
“But seriously, are you okay?”
I shrugged. “I suppose I should be asking you the same question, since you’ve apparently been spending a lot of time here at the clubhouse by yourself.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Ah, nothing I can’t handle.”
I focused all of my energy onto him. “Are the nightmares back?”
He shrugged and looked away. “Eh, they come and go.”
“What about the flashbacks?”
And when he didn’t answer, I scooted my chair around the table to get a bit closer to him.
“You know if you wanna talk—”
He nodded curtly. “Yep. I got it.”
I snickered. “Does you no good not to talk about it, by the way.”
“Which is why you’re flapping your lips about Josie now, right?”
I nodded slowly. “I’ll give that one to you, sure.”
He sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a dick. I just don’t like talking about it.”
“PTSD is a bitch, especially with how you got it. Don’t ever be ashamed of that, either. You did what you could.”
“I did what I could. I swear, that saying has been following me around for fucking years. And yet, I’m the one standing and they aren’t. What does that tell you?”
I patted his shoulder. “It tells me that you got lucky, because sometimes that’s honestly all it is.”
He sighed heavily. “Thanks for the honesty. Most people try to throw bullshit my way to make me smile, and it only makes me want to punch them.”
I squeezed his shoulder before my hand fell away. “I won’t ever sugarcoat shit. Sometimes in life, you get really fucking unlucky. Then sometimes, you get so fucking lucky it almost hurts.”
“You got that one right,” he murmured.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I stood up. “You know you’re always welcome at my place if the ocean is your thing.”
He reached for his water. “I appreciate that. Thanks.”
And after a nod of my head, I patted him on the back one last time before I went to answer my phone call from Tanner.
“Tell me you’ve got good news,” I said.
I peered down the hallway at Cole, who hung his head over his drink, as Tanner rattled shit off in my ear.
“We’ve spotted Chops at the strip club. You need to get over here. He’s at the fucking strip club and not as a client.”
“Shit,” I hissed. “Want me to bring Cole, too?”
“Is he drinking at the clubhouse?”
“Just water.”
“Then yeah, bring him along, too. We’re going to need a lot of muscle power, because if Chops spots—”
I marched back out to the table and tapped Cole on the shoulder twice. “We’re on our way. Give us fifteen minutes.”
“Take the back roads and make it ten. This isn’t good at all.”
“What’s going on?” Cole asked as I hung up the phone.
I slid it back into my pocket. “Chops is at the strip club.”
He chuckled. “Wanting a nice lap dance from some chick he can’t have?”
I glared at him. “He’s not there as a client.”
And the second the words flew out of my mouth, Cole bolted for the front door.
With me tightly on his heels as we raced out to our bikes.
Fourteen
Josie
“Hey. You.”
I turned around at the heavy voice. “Me?”
He pointed at me. “Yes, you. Get over here.”
I stood up and sauntered over to him while trying not to use my regular voice. I had it lilted a bit. It was much softer, you know, to suit my softer appearance. It was all breath and no robustness, as Astrid would have said. But the next words that flew out of his mouth stunned me in my tracks.
