“You got that look in your eye, Prez,” Moose rumbled, calling Blake from his thoughts. He tipped his chin up. “What’s on your mind?”
“Not a damn thing the rest of you aren’t already thinking.” Flattening his hands on the table, he pushed to his feet, signaling his men to do the same. “We’re going to find this bastard. We’re close; I can feel it. Whoever they are, they’re going to pay.” He kept his eyes on Moose.
Taco stared down the table at him. “Are you talking war, Prez?”
“They drew first blood,” Blake answered, glancing at Repo. “We’re going to answer in kind.”
Repo tipped his head, pride and determination reflecting in his eyes. The Spartans were going to hunt those responsible for Repo’s injuries, and when they found them, the streets would be painted red.
Dismissing everyone, Blake bypassed Country and Repo and went straight for Taco, who was making a beeline for the exit. Wherever that man was headed, it was with purpose.
“Taco, hold up,” he called out as he punched his hand into the door and followed him into the parking lot.
Taco stopped and turned, his brows pinched together. When he realized who was after him, he schooled his expression. “Hey, Prez, what’s up?”
“Need to talk to you,” Blake informed as he pulled to a stop in front of him. “You running off to somethin’ important?” He lifted his chin toward the row of bikes lined up behind Taco—specifically, the black crotch rocket with the purple flames painted down either side. Fucking ugly as sin and an insult to the classic American muscle surrounding it, but kids these days… They just didn’t have the same appreciation.
“Naw, nothin’ going on. What’s up?” he asked again, but Blake caught the way his eyes darted away, telling him he was lying through his pearly whites, but hey, who was he to judge?
“Just been noticing you’ve been a little more quiet than usual lately? Somethin’ going on I should know about?”
Taco shook his head. “Nothing’s going on. Just been busy.”
Blake narrowed his eyes, studying his friend closer.
Taco stared him back, reading the question in his eyes easily. He shook his head again and laughed. “It’s not me, Prez. I can promise you that.”
He thought he was sizing him up as the rat? Blake played along, knowing it was better to keep as many brothers in the dark about Tanner as possible to keep up pretenses. “That’s exactly what a rat would say.”
Taco chuckled and raked a hand through his hair. “You’re right. But that doesn’t change the fact it’s not me. I got too much respect for this club and Repo to ever do something so shady. I might not be educated, but I know when I got a good thing. And this,” he said, waving his hand around to encompass the grounds, “is a good thing for me. I would never risk it.”
Blake studied him more, appreciating the truth of his statement. At a time like this, it was refreshing to know the kid was being one hundred. “Then what’s been goin’ on? Somethin’ has you twisted.”
As a father, it was easy to spot the signs, and, also as a father, he wanted to help. Lot of the brothers never had a proper male figure growing up to steer them right, which was why they’d fallen into the club life in the first place. Damn good thing they’d turned it around, otherwise they’d all have followed a much different path. Instead of jail, they were doing honest work and acting with integrity. With other clubs, shit didn’t play out quite the same way.
“Nothin’ worth talking about,” Taco said cryptically, which gave Blake all the answer he needed to know.
“This have to do with a woman?”
Taco looked away, confirming his suspicions. “Like I said, it’s nothin’.”
“Look, Curtis,” Blake said, using his real name so he understood he was being real with him, “women are a dime a dozen. Especially ‘round here,” he said, referring to the bunnies. Because in truth, that’s probably the kind of woman Taco had been hooking up with and had him in his current state.
“You won’t believe me, but she was different.”
“Why wouldn’t I believe you?” Blake asked him. “I have Gabby, don’t I?” He’d been running through the common tail for what felt like ever before she’d come along and introduced him to “different.” Of anyone, he’d be the one to sympathize. Hell, even Country, the womanizer that he’d been, changed his attitude when Talia came along. And now Repo was climbing on board.
Hell, now that Blake took a step back and looked at it, they were dropping like flies, weren’t they? Fucking Cupid was shooting arrows all over the place it seemed like.
“Look, Prez, Blake, it’s not the same. Shit’s…complicated,” he said, blowing out a breath. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Taco stepped back and lifted a hand. “Sorry, but I need to take off.”
“Important shit to do?” Blake asked, arms crossing over his chest.
“Something like that, yeah.”
Yeah, he’d just bet. Funny how when a guy was avoiding something, he couldn’t seem to stick to his story. But Blake bit his tongue. It wasn’t his place to question the guy on his private life. He just hoped Taco knew that he had a friend if he needed one.
Blake watched Taco ride off before turning and heading back into the clubhouse. There was more work that needed to be done, and there just didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day to do it all.
At least he knew Gabby and Ash were safe at home, under the watchful eye of prospects. Knowing they were safe gave him a measure of comfort so he could focus on the business end of things. Not only did he have the club to worry about, but he had his construction business to tend to. Half his men worked the job site as part of keeping things legit, keeping his boys out of trouble, so he needed to make sure that he kept it all running smoothly. When the world seemed to be falling to shit around them, it was especially important to hold onto the good. Sometimes it was what made all the difference.
“What’s up with Taco?” Repo asked as Blake took up a seat next to him at the bar.
Ginger was behind it, surprisingly, and she wasn’t throwing off attitude either. He didn’t know what he’d expected—maybe a tantrum like Gabby and Talia were giving—but she looked normal, if not a little quiet today.
Maybe Repo and she were doing okay…
“Nothin’, according to him.”
“What are you doin’ here? Don’t you have a wife and kid to get back to?”
“Later,” Blake said. “I have some work to do before I head home. Just need a drink to loosen up a bit first.”
“Yeah, it’s been rough lately.”
“Yeah.”
“What can I get you, Blake?” Red asked with a smile as she approached their end of the bar.
“Just a beer, hon.”
“I’ll take another, too, babe,” Repo said, but she was already turning away. She hadn’t even acknowledged him.
Blake’s brows rose, and he looked to Repo, who was staring after Red like a man lost in space. Well, shit, maybe he’d read that all wrong.
“Problems in paradise?”
Repo scowled, his jaw clenching. “We don’t see eye to eye on some things. She left.”
Blake flinched, feeling the man’s pain, despite the lack of information. Unlike women, men didn’t need every detail to understand when there was hurt caused. It was obvious that his friend was suffering inside.
“Let me guess, you tried to make her see your way,” Blake deadpanned. He knew Repo, and he could just imagine how the whole thing went down. Some things were probably said that Ginger didn’t agree with, and being who he was, Repo didn’t back down an inch. And being who she was, neither had she. The two were stubborn as hell and neither bent well.
They were made for each other.
“The woman is hardheaded. She thinks I’m controlling.”
Ginger set Blake’s beer down in front of him, and without looking at Repo, smiled and walked off agai
n. Yep, she was pissed off. Women were easy to read but impossible to understand.
“You, controlling?” Blake scoffed mockingly. “I don’t see it.”
“Fuck you,” Repo said with a crooked smile. He knew he spoke the truth. That pale blue stare followed Red around longingly, watching her every move with laser focus.
Blake knew that look. He’d had it himself with Gabby. Still did. Well, shit. That would need to be sorted. Otherwise the man would be no good to him. A man without his woman was nothing but a shell of himself. Love was one hell of a bitch.
“Listen,” Blake said, ready to impart some sage advice, whether it was welcomed or not. And hell, it wasn’t lost on him how strange it was for a man several years younger to be acting like a life coach. “Whatever the problem, apologize. And mean it. Women know when you aren’t sincere, feel me?” He took a swig of his beer. “Don’t let pride stand in your way, man, or she’ll never come back. You gotta take some hits with this one if you want it to work.”
“I don’t have a problem taking a hit,” Repo groused, “but she can’t have it all her way. She needs to understand who makes the rules and learn how to follow.”
Blake shook his head. “Wow, yeah, I can see the problem now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you, brother, have a problem.”
Repo didn’t look so happy to hear that. In fact, he looked like he wanted nothing more than to punch Blake in the face, but Blake wasn’t scared. Repo could intimidate most men, but Blake was the president, therefore, untouchable. He wasn’t scared of shit.
“You can be pissed all you want, but you know I speak the truth,” Blake told him. “That woman right there knows exactly how this club works. She’s been around long enough to know how to act right. Does she have a mind of her own? Yeah, she does, and she exercises it often. So, if you’re looking for a pussycat that bows to your every whim, then she’s not the one for you. But something tells me that’s not what you’re looking for. Hell, her stubbornness is part of her appeal.”
It’s what had hooked Blake’s teenage self all those years ago. But Ginger had always been hard to peg. She didn’t act like most women he knew. She was vulnerable, but she didn’t show it. She wore her heart on her sleeve, but she kept it covered in Kevlar, and if someone crossed her, even once, she cut them from her life like a tumor and froze them out so efficiently, it was as if that person never existed.
No man wanted to be on the receiving end of that kind of rejection.
“You’re right. I do like that about her.”
“Then why try to control her? You can’t control a wild animal. The best you can do is try to gain its trust and hope it allows you to get close enough to touch it from time to time.”
At that, Repo chuckled. “You make it sound like she’s an untamed horse.”
“Maybe she is. But the worst thing you can do is try to break her. Trust me that would be a travesty.”
They grew silent, watching Ginger navigate the bar and serve drinks like the seasoned professional she was. She took pride in her work and treated everyone equally, and with such warmth, they all felt like family. She was truly the woman of the house, making each person feel special in their own way.
Blake just hoped that Repo could find a way to soften a little, so they could both be happy. They really were a good match, if they could find the right balance to work together.
“I appreciate the talk,” Repo said, pushing his empty bottle aside and standing from his stool. “But she’s done with me. Said it herself. And I’m pretty sure I had it wrong thinking she wanted me in the first place.”
Blake knew better than that. He’d seen the way those two looked at each other when they thought no one else was paying attention. “You’d be wrong,” he informed him flatly, then took another drink of his beer. “That woman cares a hell of a lot for you. Your history together alone proves that much. You just need to prove you’re worthy of her heart before she’ll give it to you.”
Blake looked up, meeting Repo’s cool stare, hoping the man got the message.
“I hear you,” Repo finally said. “’Preciate the talk.”
He clapped Blake on the shoulder then stalked away, pushing out the exit door without a backward glance.
Ginger watched every step with a sadness Blake had only ever seen in a person who was in love.
THIRTY-THREE
Being home had never felt so lonely. Normally, Ginger enjoyed her solitude, but not anymore. Being Repo’s captive, even if only for a day, had been unbearable. But now she was longing for that time back.
When she left his house after their fight, she knew it would be hard to see him at the clubhouse, but she hadn’t anticipated how hard. He’d sat there at that bar watching her like a hawk, and it’d been all she could do to hold back her emotions and pretend like she didn’t care.
She couldn’t afford to show weakness in front of a man who seemingly had none. That would just be like rubbing salt in an open wound. Ginger had spent much of her life being weak when it came to the opposite sex, and it’d never served her well.
To start now would be taking several steps back, and she was determined to always keep moving forward.
She loved Garrick; she knew that. She just didn’t want to bow to his every whim. How dare he act as if he owned her? How dare he expect her to play the dutiful housewife when she wasn’t even wearing his ring—or his patch! Ginger flat out refused to become another ol’ lady without rights.
Granted, the Spartan men were so much better than most bikers and most men in general, but she still refused to lose her identity, no matter how much she loved him.
She’d gone through too much to lose any part of herself again, and that was just something Garrick needed to realize and accept, otherwise they just couldn’t be together.
As she pushed her broom around the kitchen floor, Ginger tried to lose herself in music to take the focus off her troubled mind. “Despasito” was blowing up the charts, and it made her laugh because she’d loved the song well before it ever became mainstream. It made her want to dance, to shake her booty all over the place, and that was an excellent way to blow off steam. Better than exercise, for sure.
Not better than sex, though.
The thought brought down her mood again as she reflected on the way Garrick’s mouth had felt on her, his fingers inside her. That had been, hands down, the best way she’d ever been woken up. He had a talented tongue, and she missed it terribly.
She always had her mind on the way they’d been together in the past, how he’d always managed to make her feel special, and she’d hoped for that again. This time more permanently, and it saddened her that it probably wasn’t going to happen.
Sometimes life was just so unfair. While everyone else was falling in love and having kids and getting married, she had to wonder…where was her slice of happiness?
Garrick’s determined statement of putting a baby inside her made her stomach flutter, and thinking back on that moment and how she’d felt that flare of excitement that was quickly diminished by the way he’d delivered it upset her. She could see that future so clearly, and she wanted it. Damn him. Why did he have to be such a jerk anyway? Placing her hand on her abdomen, she wondered if he was right and she was already pregnant, but she shrugged that notion off. She didn’t feel any different.
Getting upset, Ginger paused over the pile of dirt she’d collected and wondered if maybe the problem was her. She’d accused him of being too set in his ways, but maybe she was too. She had, after all, gotten used to being alone and doing everything for herself. Maybe she’d stopped being malleable, and that was something a person had to be if they hoped to be in a healthy relationship.
Was she being too hard? Did she need to be the first to bend?
Or would she just being, give up her freedom if she did?
It was such a hard position to be in, and she wasn’t sure what the right answer was. Why couldn’t anything
ever just be easy? Where was the writing on the wall when she needed it?
Just thinking about a repeat of today at the clubhouse, seeing Garrick every day from here until forever, possibly with other women, hurt her heart. She didn’t know that she could take that. Before it had been easier, because she hadn’t allowed herself to consider the possibility that they were ever going to be a thing, but now that she’d had a taste and allowed hope to enter her heart, it was impossible to ignore that that’s exactly what she wanted.
So how was this going to work? Was she really going to make herself stick it out for a paycheck? Sure, she loved the guys. Everyone was family to her, even some of the women, but how could she stay? How could she torture herself day in and day out and expect herself not to break?
Maybe what she needed was a change of scenery. Maybe she’d overstayed her welcome, and it was time to move on to new pastures.
Would anyone even care that she was gone? Would they even notice?
Looking at her phone on the counter, she recounted how many calls she’d gotten in the last month. One. The one it took for Gabby and Talia to meet at the café. She didn’t have any real friends, no family to speak of, and no one reached out to her—ever—just to see how she was doing.
So maybe she was just kidding herself. She was just another bunny—an aging one at that—who didn’t really make a difference in the grand scheme of things.
Sighing, Ginger reached a decision. It was the hardest one she’d had to make in a while, but it was necessary. She couldn’t see any real way around it.
Well, she thought to herself as she looked around her ratty old apartment, at least I won’t have to wake up in this dump anymore.
***
Manual watched from the sidelines as the cleaner did his job making the apartment look spotless—well, as spotless as a piece of shit efficiency built during the fifties could ever be. His opinion? The owner should cut his losses, burn the place to the ground, and collect the insurance.
Vigor: A Spartan Riders Novel Page 23
