So. Sexy.
I got kinda lost in the vibe of it, her energy pouring over the crowd, over me… even as my eyes continually swept the crowd, and the tree line, and the dark between the trees.
Nothing looked off, but it didn’t quite feel right, either.
I scoped out a few of the guys who’d been doing lines with Justice inside a while ago, but they were just partying. Talking. Some of them were in the crowd, dancing.
I didn’t see Justice anywhere.
Mia was over by the love bomb table with her girlfriends.
After a while, Andre came up beside me. “All good?” he said.
“Yeah. You?”
He nodded over my shoulder. “Take a little walk back through the kitchen. Check out the dude with the tats.”
I nodded. I stood with him for another minute or so, watching the crowd, just pretending to enjoy the music. I was enjoying it.
But then I headed left, down the steps and back around the house, in through the front door. I found the bathroom and poured my beer down the sink, left my bottle with a few others on a shelf. I made my way through the crowded living room and into the kitchen. Grabbed myself a fresh beer from one of the metal tubs of ice.
I paused to pop the top off and check out the dude with the tats.
There was only one guy in the room who obviously fit that description.
The coke fairy.
He’d taken off the leather jacket he’d arrived in and his long sleeves were pushed up, showing off his ink. He was standing by the kitchen counter with three other guys. One of them was Justice.
They were talking animatedly about something, laughing. And when Justice caught my eye, I tipped my beer bottle at him. He waved me over.
The dude with the tattoos looked at me. He was a few inches shorter than me and had a wiry build, and dark, almost dirty-looking tanned skin. He wore a holey sweater and jeans, the telltale biker boots, and among the tattoos on his arms, there was a distinctive tattoo of big, bold letters up his right forearm that said: BASTARDS.
The black ink made splatter patterns around the letters, like blood, with bullet holes in it.
It was the insignia of the Bloody Bastards MC.
“Ronan,” Justice said. “Meet my boys.” Then he introduced the guys to me. I paid closest attention to the name of the guy with the Bastards tattoo on his arm.
Boasty.
Not a real name. Maybe a nickname, maybe a road name.
I hung out for a few minutes, pretended to be into their conversation. Some party story about a dude they knew having his balls glitter-glued to his thigh at a party. I didn’t even know what the fuck “glitter-glued” as a verb entailed, but I wasn’t interested in that.
Justice’s eyes were black as eight balls. His buddies were all high or drunk. And his biker friend—while friendly enough, given Justice’s endorsement of me as “my sister’s man”—smiled less than the others.
I wasn’t sure if I should correct Justice on his facts.
High as he was, it probably wouldn’t matter tomorrow anyway. And pointing out I wasn’t Summer’s boyfriend might just raise eyebrows about who the fuck I was, then.
After a few minutes, I slipped away.
Andre was still watching Summer from the back deck.
“Get a look?” he asked me.
“That’s quite some art.” I took a small sip of my beer in my continued efforts to “blend in.” “Seems like a real nice guy.”
“You know, it’s nice to see you making friends, Ronan.”
“Seems like Justice Sorensen has some interesting ones.”
“I’ve been looking,” he said. “Don’t see anyone else with ink like that. But it’s October. People are pretty covered.”
“Yeah.” I’d been scoping out the crowd all night myself, and while I didn’t see any evidence that any of the other guests were hardcore bikers, including a distinct lack of motorcycles in the driveway, the vibe of the party was definitely… shifting… as the night wore on. Many of Justice’s friends weren’t exactly the type of dudes I’d invite for Sunday dinner.
“What’re you thinking?” Andre asked me.
“I’m thinking we get Summer out of here as soon as we can.” I nodded over at the treehouse. She was talking to the other DJ now, but standing back from the deck. “Looks like she’s maybe finished up there. I’ll go talk to her.”
I was just about to wander over there, beer in hand, when a bunch of guys emerged from the house, talking. They walked past me, heading down the steps to the yard. Among them was Justice. And Boasty.
“I’m thinking your new friend might be carrying,” Andre said, leaning into me a bit. “Left ankle.”
I looked the biker over, and his jeans definitely weren’t baggy enough to fully conceal it. Something was there, on his left ankle, under his jeans and above his boot. I could see it when he walked.
I hadn’t noticed it when I scoped him out in the house.
Could’ve been a knife.
Could’ve been a loaded gun, too.
“I see that,” I said, setting my beer down on the deck railing. “All the more reason to get the fuck out of here.”
Chapter Eighteen
Ronan
Andre, Summer and I left the party at her brother’s house without incident. I was surprised, actually, that she didn’t give me any static about leaving.
When I went to ask her how long she wanted to stay, she claimed she was tired, something I’d never heard her admit before.
We headed out to the car and this time I drove, mainly so I wouldn’t have to sit in the backseat with her. I was feeling a little tired myself, and I was worried my ability to keep my cool might get low. She still seemed annoyed with me, she was still being way nicer to Andre than she was to me… and I was pretty pissed off about the guests her “baby brother” invited to his house when his wife and sister
