“Bodyguard. Your father’s on the warpath and he doesn’t want to take any chances.”
He doesn’t look happy at all saying that, which puts a damper on the excitement that’s starting to bubble its way up inside me, subsuming the nervousness and shock.
“What all is happening in there?” I say, nodding towards the closed doors where church is still taking place for a few of the higher-ranking members of the club.
“Planning. This mess with the new unfriendly arrivals is coming at the worst time for the club. There’s a lot of stuff going on. And that’s as much as I can tell you.”
I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Can tell me, or will tell me?”
“You know how it is, Addie,” he says, giving a momentary glimpse of the easygoing smile that’s handsome enough to make my breath catch.
This man. He could light the entire world with his smile, if he’d just use it more than once in a blue moon.
Then, just as quick as his smile appears, it’s gone, replaced by a troubled look.
“What’s wrong?” I say, reaching across the bar to take his hand. Something about touching him always makes me feel better, and I hope it does the same thing for him, too.
He pulls away. Worried look still on his face and his eyes squarely on the closed doors to clubhouse sanctuary.
“We should get going,” he says.
“So soon? We haven’t even put dinner out. My mom spent all day cooking.”
“Dinner’s canceled. Stone will be in there for a while, and it’s better for everyone if we get you home now.”
“That’s how it’s going to be?”
“That’s how it is.”
“So, I’m just going to have you bossing me around for the next few days until the club murders those guys who came in here?”
Snake shrugs, nonchalant.
“Yeah. And the guy who sent them. Whoever he is, he’s living on borrowed time. But, if he was crafty enough to plant a bomb near the club’s warehouse and have it go off just far enough away so it only fucked Goldie up instead of killing him, he’s not someone you want to take chances with. Sorry, Addie, but life is going to be complicated for a while.”
Suddenly, having Snake around loses a little of its luster. Just a little.
“Hold on. There was a bomb?”
“Car bomb. With a proximity trigger. Goldie stepped a little too close, and it went off,” Snake says, looking over his shoulder at Goldie, who’s halfway slumped over in a booth in the corner, with an untouched beer in front of him. “So, why don’t you take me home?”
“In a second,” I say, surprised that I’d even hesitate at taking Snake home. What a state I’m in.
But I have to check on Goldie.
I can’t let him just sit there, hurt and suffering, without at least letting him know that I care.
I walk around the bar counter and head over to Goldie’s booth and I sit down next to him.
He looks so bad.
Unsteady, bloody, and his eyes are out of focus.
It makes my heart hurt just looking at him and knowing what he went through. And thinking about the days and days of pain he has ahead of him. Sometimes, so many times, it’s hard to see the cost that this life can take on the men in the club.
I put my hand on Goldie’s hand.
“Hey Goldie,” I say. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Addie,” he says, shaking his head in a lazy circle. “It’s just a scratch. I’ll be good in a few days.”
“A scratch, huh? That’s funny, I heard you got blown up.”
“Maybe I did. It’s kind of a blur,” he says, then he gives me a cross-eyed look. “Do you think I’ll have some cool scars? And do you think they’ll make me look tough enough that you’d want to hook up with me? Cause I have wanted to fuck you for so long, Addie, you have no idea.”
I laugh, though in the corner of my eye I notice Snake clench his fists.
“Goldie, bomb or no bomb, you’ll never have a chance. And I think I’m going to take this beer away from you. You don’t need any more brain damage.”
I slide the glass away and he’s too worn out, or too dazed, to even try to stop me.
Instead, he just shrugs and slumps back in the booth, looking half-asleep.
I turn to Snake.
“You sure he will be OK?”
“Not if he keeps talking to you like that, he won’t,” he says.
“He survived a car bomb, you can let it slide.”
“Just this once.”
I stand up and plant a playful kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you for protecting me from the brain-dead prospect. You truly are a wonderful bodyguard.”
He takes my hand. His grip firmer, more insistent.
“We need to leave. We’ll have to stop by my place so I can grab some things.”
I let him lead me outside, where we head to our respective bikes, which happen to be parked next to each other. It doesn’t surprise me that his is right next to mine, that’s where he usually parks, even on days when there might be closer spots open.
But, unlike so many other times where we’ve met in this parking lot, side by side, both ready to ride, something feels off with him. Something deeper than just the looming threat on the horizon. Even though I’m tempted to ask what’s bothering him, I can tell he’s in no mood to talk.
So I keep my mouth shut, follow him on a long, circuitous course to
