Page 67 of Ridin’ Dirty

It didn’t take a telepath to see he wasn’t happy. It was also quite obvious he walked in on a mission. But it was when he found me—his eyes locking in on mine—that I understood we needed to step outside.

Breaking eye contact with him, I forced a smile and delivered the food I carried to its destination. When I was sure everyone had what they needed, I went straight for the door. Glancing up at Carmine as I passed, I murmured, “Not in here.”

The bell above the door chimed as I made my exit, and I walked a few paces away from the entrance, careful to keep myself in view of the windows. It was true, Carmy would never hurt me. Not physically, anyway. Still, I wanted Viv to be able to see where I was.

I barely come to a stop before he grabbed my left hand and whipped me around.

“What the fuck is this?”

I yanked my hand back, folding my arms across my chest as I willed myself to stand my ground. I still didn’t know what I was going to tell him, but I wouldn’t cower.

“I told you. I got married.”

“That son-of-a-bitch has been behind bars for three years and everyone knows it. You don’t know him. He’s not even on your radar.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. We met his first night back. Guess it’s true what they say. When you know, you know.”

His face contorted into an expression that was a mix of disbelief and disgust.

“Bull-fuckin’-shit,” he spat.

I narrowed my eyes at him, now more irritated than anything else.

“What? You think I’m just some idiot? Like I don’t know who I am or what I want? News flash, Carmy, I know myself a hell of a lot better than you do.”

He spoke through gritted teeth when he replied, “I think it’s you who thinks I’m dumb. Some fucked up shit is stirrin’, and the timing of all this is no coincidence. Can’t be.”

I opened my mouth to speak instinctively, but my words got caught in my throat.

He was right. Of course, he was right. But I couldn’t let him know that.

Fortunately, the silence between us didn’t last but a breath.

“Is there a problem here?”

My head snapped in the direction of his voice.

Pistol.

My eyes devoured him in an instant. It was all the time I had, his gait bringing him toward me with a quickness.

He still had two black eyes, but the bruising was starting to turn yellow around the edges. The cut above his brow was scabbed over, and the one on his lip was still there but definitely healing. His swelling was completely gone, and he looked like him—just a little banged up.

The second I was in reaching distance, he draped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side. Then he did something I never saw coming.

He pressed his lips against my temple and mumbled, “Hey, angel. You good?”

It took every bit of brain power I had to prevent my jaw from falling wide open. If he wasn’t holding me, I might have stumbled. Fortunately, when I leaned into him, unfolding my arms in order to grab hold of his kutte and steady myself, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for two people in love to do.

And that’s what we were—what we were pretending to be—two people in love.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

I blinked, forcing myself to nod.

Then, to my great relief, Carmy spoke.

“I’m havin’ a conversation with my sister. You weren’t invited.”