Page 54 of Crossing the Line

“And what, if you don’t mind me asking, what does an ol’ lady do exactly since she’s so much more than a girlfriend?” I asked, once the kids had torn off to the other room.

“She’s loyal. Beautiful. And she rides with her man.” Cole began, only for me to interrupt him with a whole-hearted laugh.

“I don’t ride.”

He closed one eye and squinted with the other, “Yet.”

“No–”

“Your two-wheeled chariot will be arriving in all its thunderous glory at six. I suggest you be ready.” He pecked the top of my head and started for the door without waiting for an objection.

Chapter Twenty

Warn a Man

C.C.

I really thought she’d throw me out when I used Vick as an excuse. He swore she’d cave, and I guess he was right. I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t, there probably wouldn’t have been any coming back from an argument like that, not tonight anyhow.

And it had to be tonight.

I’d managed to get my ass home without a soul knowing I’d had a seizure. I didn’t need anyone fussing at me about driving. If I couldn’t ride, I couldn’t wear the patch, and that wasn’t happening.

I’d never felt more serious about the club, or Brenna, than I had this week.

Waking up without her was torture. My pillows smelled like her shampoo, and I learned all the things she liked to watch on the television to the point I was sipping coffee and watching the morning news even when she didn’t stay over.

Patrick was haunting me with his blessing, what other signs did I need?

Even though I knew all of it to be true, I was still a nervous wreck.

It was soon, but something I couldn’t explain was compelling me to keep her close. I was charged with this woman’s survival and happiness. I couldn’t explain it, but I felt it deep inside.

All I could do was hope that she was experiencing the same.

Hours ticked by, despite the slow shower and thorough combing of my hair. I put on my best dark jeans and a nice shirt before taking my good boots out of the closet. I selected the smallest pistol in hopes that she wouldn’t feel it, doused myself in cologne, and triple checked my wallet.

The lump remained, its outline round and prominent against the back of my wallet.

“God, I hope this doesn’t go poorly,” I sighed, before heading out to the bike.

“You got a minute?”

The unexpected shout immediately had my full attention. I turned toward the sound and reached for my hip.

“Whoa,” Vick laughed, holding up both hands.

My heart skipped a beat recalling our encounter the night Chef died.

“Easy, man.” His posture relaxed and he shoved his fingers into his pant pockets.

“What can I do for you?” I cautiously asked.

He laughed and scratched at the stubble along his jaw, “You know why I’m here. What wasn’t said the other night.”

“What’s understood doesn’t need explaining. That’s what I always thought.”

“Usually true, unless there is an investigation.”