Page 72 of Ridin’ Dirty

“Okay, fill me in,” she said when we were out of earshot. “Is there a game plan for tonight?”

“Yeah,” I replied, willing myself not to look back at the man. “Get him to come to me.”

“Ah, so we’re playing cat and mouse.”

She did a little skip in excitement and the smile that parted my lips wouldn’t be stopped.

“You’re a big fan of his.”

I said it almost in passing, but as we approached the clubhouse doors, she stopped me in order to look me straight in the eyes.

“The biggest. He’s like an older brother to me. And I know he screwed up, but I swear he’s worth a second chance.”

I wondered why she was so sure of him. Then again, she’d been around the club since she was born, and an extension of the Montana chapter since she was a kid. She grew up with him. As the president’s daughter, it wasn’t hard to imagine how most of the Stallions likely kept an eye on her and made her feel safe. Pistol included.

While he and I didn’t have the warmest relationship, we had our moments.

And I now knew what it felt like to have him make me feel safe.

“Does he ever call you anything other than Max? Like a pet name or nickname or anything?”

Max shrugged. “He’ll call me babe, sometimes. Not in, like, a sexual way or anything. It’s not even unique to me, so—I guess that doesn’t really count. Why?”

I’d been hanging onto the word all day, keeping it to myself, trying and failing miserably not to make too much of it. Her response had me losing my grip all over again.

“No reason. Come on. I need a drink,” I insisted, reaching for the door.

Given it was only Thursday, which meant the clubhouse was humming but not entirely wild, and I was on a mission and wanted to keep my faculties—when Buff offered me a drink, I opted for a light beer. I was sitting with my back to the bar, my first bottle half gone, when Pistol and Reaper made their entrance. Tex, who was trying his damnedest to play it cool as he chatted with Max and me, was in the middle of speaking, but I lost track of what he was saying as I watched my husband cross the room and disappear into the corridor of private rooms.

Cherry, who I clocked as soon as I arrived, snuck out of my periphery and trailed after him. She slipped out of sight, seemingly unnoticed, and dread turned my stomach.

I didn’t want to believe it was possible.

Not tonight. Not from him.

They both knew I was in the building.

Cherry was a bitch, and I wasn’t going to put it past her; but Pistol was still a wildcard.

It irked me how much I cared.

How much I hoped.

‘Hey, angel. You good’

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

I chugged the rest of my beer and set aside the empty bottle as I stared at the hallway’s opening. I didn’t know what to expect, but I anticipated the worst.

Then, before my imagination got the better of me, she was back.

Cherry reappeared as casually as she left. But there was something off about her. I could sense it by the way she scanned the room, wanting to go unnoticed.

Her eyes caught mine and narrowed.

We held each other’s gaze long enough for me to understand I won this round.

A tightness in my chest I wasn’t fully conscious of loosened.