Page 38 of Riding Dirty

He grins before he gives me a wink. It’s the only answer he’s willing to give me, and I can tell there won’t be anything further. I think I’m pretty okay with that. I’m not sure if I should try to push it, but he doesn’t let me.

Coast shifts around me, reaches for the door, opens it, then steps to the side and lets me pass. The conversation is finished. He’s dictated that without saying a single word. And personally, I forget the conversation completely.

It shouldn’t make my heart melt, the chivalry of him holding the door open for me, but it does. Not many men in my life have been kind to me, Alex being the only exception. He’s always been the best man in the whole world, but we’re cousins, and it’s not the same as when someone who wants you sees you.

Most of the men I’ve been around have either been perverts, abusers of some kind, druggies like my mom, or pretended I didn’t exist. I always preferred the ones who pretended I never existed, but then again, some have been all three.

Another of the one million reasons why I wanted to leave my mother’s house as soon as humanly possible: the men. The monsters that darkened the hallways, that hid in the shadows and also in plain sight. I hated it. Still do. It’s probably why I’ve never really put myself out there for a relationship.

Not that I’m necessarily traumatized, or maybe I am subconsciously. But maybe beyond all of that, I’ve just always wanted to feel safe, and it’s never felt that way before. It shouldn’t feel that way with Coast, yet it does.

The bar is loud when we walk in, which isn’t surprising for a Sunday evening. People are getting in the last bits of freedom before Monday morning begins. They’re continuing their unwinding before they have to start their whole week over and get back into the grind.

Alex is already at our normal table, waiting for us, appearing a bit perturbed that we took too long. I walk ahead of Coast, heading straight for Alex.

“No wonder,” Coast grunts. Looking over my shoulder, I arch a brow in question, but I don’t stop walking. “I assume that’s your normal spot. I would never fucking see you in the back corner like that. We’ve probably been in here at the same time, and I wouldn’t even fuckin’ know it.”

We haven’t been. But I don’t tell him that. And I know that for a fact because I would have noticed him. Instantly. I would have felt the absolute presence of him.

I noticed it the moment we first met.

You know Coast, Wrath, whatever he wants to be called in the moment he enters a space, you just know when that man is anywhere within your zone. There is a commanding presence about him that not only surrounds him but fills every single place he enters.

I would have felt it—wholly.

CHAPTER

THIRTY

WRATH

The bar is chill, but I notice not only the bartender, but the waitress is eyeballing me. They know who I am. They don’t know what I do for the club, but they know exactly who I am, and it’s clear that they aren’t sure what to make of me with Alex and Elodie.

I’m not going to explain myself. It would be fucking suspicious and weird if I did anyway. Plus, it’s not anyone’s business what the fuck I do, so there is that, too. I order a beer, not wanting to get trashed, Alex orders a vodka, and Elodie orders a fucking white wine spritzer. It’s cute as shit.

They also ordered a whole fucking menu’s worth of appetizers, which I am very cool with, considering I’m starving. I also need sustenance before I fuck her again. And I am going to be fucking Elodie again. Soon.

Once the food arrives, we begin to dig in when I sense someone walking into the bar. I don’t know what makes me feel their presence, but I do. Slowly, I turn my head, looking over my shoulder at the front door.

Typically, I wouldn't sit with my back to the front door, but since Alex was here first and I didn’t want to sit right next to him, I ended up sitting with my back to the door. And I regret it immediately.

Fuck.

The man who walks through the door is the last person I expect to see. His gaze locks in on mine. He’s got something to say, and I’m the person he wants to say it to. I can’t imagine why he would come all the way from Arizona to come to Fat Boys and have a conversation with me.

But here he fucking is.

“Cake,” I state when he stops directly at the side of the table, crossing his arms over his chest before he dips his chin and his gaze locks in on mine.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-ONE

WRATH

“Need to talk to you. Now,” he growls.

I can feel Elodie and Alex’s questioning gazes on me, but I don’t even spare them a glance. Sliding off the chair, I stand up tall. I don’t square up to him, mainly because he would knock my ass to the floor in a split fucking second if I tried that shit.