Page 71 of Ridin’ Dirty

I ignored the tingle in my belly at the memory, shook my head clear and started the Mustang’s engine. I was done with being left at home. Done staying in the dark. I had no intention of being a citizen wife—completely removed from all things Wild Stallions. Not to mention, while Pistol chased my brother off that afternoon, he said things, things I didn’t think should be ignored. While I didn’t exactly want to be in the middle of their club rivalry, that seemed to be precisely where I found myself.

When I pulled onto the compound it was far from empty. The garage was closed for the night, which meant there weren’t a lot of cars in parking stalls—the front of the clubhouse lined with Harleys. Still, even at the late hour, when I got out of my Mustang, I noticed one of the garage bay doors was still open. The light from inside illuminated the man at work as the last bit of sunlight grew dim behind the mountain. It was Reaper, laying nearby, that clued me into the fact that the man still at work was Pistol. Having not expected to find him there, I furrowed my brow as I journeyed toward him.

Reaper noticed me first. Perking up at the sound of my footsteps, she barked once before trotting over to say hi.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” I murmured as I reached down to smooth a hand between her ears.

“Hey. What are you doin’ here?” asked Pistol, not unkindly.

I gave Reaper one last pat before I straightened, slipping my fingertips into the back pockets of my jeans as I entered the garage. Upon closer inspection, it was impossible to ignore how the sight of this man made my insides clench. At present, he was in a pair of navy coveralls, the top folded down and tied around his hips. The white tank he wore was stained with sweat and grease. It covered most of the tattoo that spanned his chest but left the ink on his arms on full display. My gaze swept over the Celtic braid he had inked around his left forearm, and all the things I wished I knew about him were starting to feel like an anvil wrapped around my heart.

“I was going to ask you that,” I said, forcing myself to lift my gaze to meet his eyes. “Isn’t it a little late to be working?”

He tugged a rag from out of his back pocket and wiped at his hands as he nodded at the bike which stood between us. “Been without her the last two days. That’s two days too long. Didn’t get out of prison on the tail end of summer to get cooped up in a different cage.”

“Oh,” I breathed, giving the hog a second look.

I didn’t recognize it without Reaper’s sidecar. Then it dawned on me how the driveway had been empty the last couple of the days. At the diner, when the others mounted their rides, he climbed into his. I didn’t have the presence of mind to connect those dots.

“What happened to it?”

“Kings fucked with it.”

“Shit,” I whispered. “Well—are you going to be able to fix it?”

“Just about there. Need another part. Should be here tomorrow.”

This was good news. As was my realization that he hadn’t been avoiding home or partying into the wee hours. Though, this new awareness of how he was spending his extra time didn’t exactly put me at ease. This was merely another tally against the Copper Kings, in a rivalry that didn’t need any assistance in staying alive.

“Anything new I should be worried about? I mean, with the club drama?”

Pistol, finished with the rag in his hands, tossed it over his shoulder and folded his arms across his chest as he shook his head once. “Been quiet. Probably too quiet, but we’re all layin’ low. Best guess, they’re comin’ up short, which means they can’t do dick.”

“Carmy’s suspicious. I don’t know what he thinks he knows, but⁠—”

“If they had anything, they’d move on it. They don’t. I made sure they wouldn’t. As for your brother, scared him off easily enough earlier.”

For the hundredth time that day, I remembered what it felt like the moment Pistol’s lips pressed against the side of my head before he mumbled against my skin. The memory, coupled with the man standing in front of me, made me want to blush. Again. Honestly, before that afternoon, I couldn’t remember the last time a man made me blush. It was quite ridiculous.

But as I tried to get a handle on my hormones, I knew this was my chance to get answers.

He brought it up, so I could ask.

Why did you call me angel?

The words were on the tip of my tongue when the sound of approaching footsteps caught Pistol’s attention. Reaper’s, too. Pretty soon, all three of us were looking back over my shoulder as Maxine approached.

“You two are talkin’. That’s a good sign,” she said with a grin. “Hey, Reap,” she added, holding out a hand.

While the shepherd got up in order to receive a bit of extra affection, Pistol and I glanced at one another. Max wasn’t wrong. The two of us having a cordial conversation was certainly progress I appreciated. As for where things were going between us, that remained to be seen.

And this no longer felt like the moment for me to find out.

Fortunately, the night was still young.

“We’ll let you finish up here,” I began to say, reaching for Maxine’s elbow. “See you inside?”

He jerked his chin in silent acknowledgment, and Max, following my lead, waved before we both started for the clubhouse.