“Sounds very old fashioned. Maybe even a little caveman.”
He laughs. “Just the way it is.”
“So do you have an ol’ lady?”
“No way. I love pussy too much. Who wants to have the same one every day for the rest of their life?” He visibly shudders and I laugh.
“It’s Friday night. Surely, you have better places to be than here?” I ask.
“The Pres is on his way to relieve me. Should be here any minute,” he says. “Then you can ask him all the questions you like!” He grins.
“What!” I screech. “But I’m staying home. I don’t need anyone watching me.”
Blade shrugs again. “If the Pres says you need watching, then you need watching. He won’t take no for an answer.” Blade presses his ringing cell to his ear. “Okay, Pres. I’m inside.” He cuts the call and then goes to open my front door.
I watch from the kitchen as Riggs fills the doorway. “Why are you in the house?” he asks Blade suspiciously.
“She asked me in for coffee. We’ve become like bezzie mates these last couple of days, haven’t we, Angel,” says Blade, winking at me. Riggs scowls. “I’m free to go then?” asks Blade. Riggs moves to one side to allow Blade to leave. “See you tomorrow. I love bacon with pancakes for breakfast.”
I laugh at his hint for me to cook breakfast tomorrow. Riggs slams the door shut with his boot. “Asshole,” he utters.
“Riggs, you really don’t have to babysit me. Nothing’s happened since the break-in.”
“Riggs,” says Malia, bouncing around his feet and reaching her arms up. I frown at her over-familiar behaviour, but Riggs doesn’t seem to mind and he reaches down and picks her up. “Ziggy wants me to come to play at your house,” she says, patting his beard with her tiny hand. “Can I?”
“Malia,” I hiss. “That’s rude.”
“It’s fine with me if it’s fine with your mommy,” says Riggs. “In fact, the club’s having a party tomorrow. There’ll be lots of kids Malia’s age. Why don’t you both come? You could ask Eva seeing as Cree won’t stop asking me about her,” he says.
I start to shake my head, because being around Riggs isn’t such a good idea. “Please, mommy,” whines Malia.
“Or I’m happy to have Malia for a few hours if you don’t want to come,” says Riggs. “I know you’re finding it hard to resist me.” He grins playfully. “Let’s watch cartoons, Malia, so mommy can make her mind up,” he says, taking Malia to sit on the couch.
“How come Blade isn’t supposed to come inside the house but you are?” I ask, standing in the doorway.
“Because I gave myself permission,” he replies. “I’m in charge, remember?”
“Of your gang,” I say cheekily. “But you’re not in charge of me. I can have whoever I like around for coffee.”
He grins to himself and keeps his eyes on the television as he mutters, “Sure you are, Angel. Sure, you are.”
“I haven’t heard from you all week,” I say and then instantly regret it because I sound needy and bothered.
“That bother you?” he asks, arching a brow in that sexy way of his.
“No, just . . . if you’re busy, then you really don’t need to be here. Eva’s coming over for a drink and to catch-up.”
“I’m not busy, Anna.”
The front door opens and Eva walks in holding two bottles of wine. She sees Riggs and mouths the words ‘What the fuck’ to me. I shrug and nod towards the kitchen. “Will you be okay for a minute?” I ask him and he nods. He looks more engrossed in the cartoon than Malia does.
“What the hell is he doing here?” whispers Eva when we get into the kitchen.
“He’s on Anna watch tonight. Blade left ten minutes ago.”
“You lucky bitch,” she grins. “How do I get a gorgeous man like that to watch over me?”
“You know how I feel about all of this,” I say. “It’s over the top and pointless. Reggie can get to me any time he wants, we both know that.” I shake one of the bottles of wine she brought with her. “Let’s get this baby open. You pour and I’ll put Malia to bed.”
Chapter Eight
Riggs
I sigh as Eva leans in closer. She and Anna have drunk far too much wine. “So, Riggs, we were wondering—”
“Erm, no, WE weren’t,” interrupts Anna. “You were!”
Eva giggles and waves her wine glass dismissively. “I was wondering what special requirements you need to meet to join the Kings Reapers?” she asks.
“What do ya mean?” I ask as I scroll through my cell idly.
“All the men are gorgeous. They all have tattoos. Most have beards. All have muscles,” says Eva, counting them off on her fingers. “If a thin, frail fifty-year-old asked to join, would he fit the requirements?”
“First of all,” I sigh, placing my cell on the worktop. “There are no requirements. Most of the men in my club have grown up around this life. Some are ex-Forces. Tiny, for example, is ex-Forces. No one would just turn up at the club and ask to join. Tiny knew Rock and when he left the Army, he was struggling to cope. You form a band of brothers when you’re out there fighting together. To come home to nothing is hard.”
“So they come looking for a similar support system?” asks Anna thoughtfully.
“I guess,” I shrug. “My grandfather started the club for that reason. He needed to feel that he had brothers to watch his back.”
“Are you single?” slurs Eva, seemingly bored of the serious conversation.
“Who wants to know exactly?” I ask, staring at Anna.
“Who was the girl at the club sucking your face?” Eva asks.
“That was Bonnie,” Anna says, answering before I can. “It’s complicated,” she adds, rolling her eyes and using her fingers as quote marks.
“Oh, tell us more. We love to solve love dilemmas, don’t we,
