“They’re sappy.”
“Yes, they are,” Mom laughed. “Have been since the day they met. But it’s not just her. Think about it. When Meg beams at Honey Badger every time he shows her the dirty parts and describes in detail how he fixed his motorcycle, which you know she doesn’t give two shits about mechanics, watch how his chest inflates and how hard he kisses her afterward. Why does she do it? She cares about him— what he cares about, she cares about. There’s nothing more important to a man than feeling like a hero. It’s really that simple. Pay attention. Learn. We must always respect the men in our household because they respect us, and they deserve it just like we do. They aren’t trophies. They’re half of our team.”
CHAPTER 4
SOFIA SOL
C elia rises from where she was watching television, and eavesdropping. There’s no wall between the TV room and our kitchen. I hang back for her, rolling my eyes as she asks, “Saved by the cops on that one, Soph. Who were you with?”
“A no-named nobody. It was boring,” I lie, never an easy thing to do to your best friend. I can’t tell her though, it wouldn’t be a secret for long. She’s too good-hearted and would wear it on her face every time Atlas and I were in the same room together.
Believing my story, she sighs and runs a hand through her black mane, her mixed-race skin the same golden brown as mine. Our moms are both Latinas, and best friends just like us, Dads white. “It couldn’t have been any worse than the show I was just watching. They regurgitate the same plots over and over. Do they think we’re stupid? Don’t coddle us. The American public is capable of more.”
“Amen.” We head down the hall, me chewing on my cheek. “Luke and Sage, have you seen ‘em?”
“Dunno. Probably with Atlas.”
Giving my arm a sniff I hold it up for her. “Do I really smell like sex?”
Celia leans her beautiful face in and sniffs around. “I don’t smell anything,” she shrugs. “But I have a cold.”
“Since when?”
“Woke up this morning with a stuffed nose. I think it’s because I was waiting for you to get back and I was worried.”
“You know you don’t have to worry about me.”
“Doesn’t stop me,” she mutters.
Our heads turn at my dad’s authoritative voice answering a question we missed. “We’ve been here for days, Officer. Someone lied to you when they said we were in Tennessee, but it’s not me lying. You know we’re not liars.”
Stone-faced, Celia and I join the others, but we can’t see over their heads. The Ciphers totally were in Tennessee, but we can’t let them know that. Otherwise all the celebrating we’ve been doing tonight would be for nothing as we were carted off to jail. Not like we’d go without a fight.
I back up a little so I can see inside our parlor, old velvet chairs comfy with wear around coffee tables scarred by decades of boots slung onto them in repose. By one of the old curtains Sage stares out the open window, her long, straight red hair and golden skin a mix of her mother and father, complete with Meg’s freckles. She feels me looking at her and waves us in. I give Celia’s elbow a tug. If Sage knew I was just fucking her brother, what would she say to me now? Certainly not, “Soph, the shorter cop is gorgeous, why don’t you ride him for a change? The ranch hands next door aren’t hot like that.”
Awkward.
“No cops for me, thanks,” I mutter, realizing she was eavesdropping on us in the kitchen. I’m just glad she wasn’t sneaking around the backyard a half hour ago.
I pull back the other curtain with Celia behind me, peering over my shoulder. The three of us girls admire the strong-jawed, charcoal-skinned, younger man.
Sage whispers, “Hot, right?”
Celia nods, “Very.”
He keeps his hand on his holster. Not sure if he’s ready to pull the gun out, or if that’s his normal resting state.
“I’ll get on his front to get him off our backs,” I joke under my breath.
The cops react as Atlas and Luke walk up the driveway behind them, because now there are bikers on all sides. Sage’s brothers, both with burnished copper skin, darker than hers because they take after Honey Badger way more than Meg. Except Atlas got the blue eyes.
Under the sliver of moonlight they look dangerous, walking with raw, effortless sex appeal showcased by jeans torn to expose skin, but not on purpose, and matching white tank tops stained ages ago with engine oil wiped from their hands.
For some reason their clothes are drenched, plastered to their bodies, raven-black hair hanging to their lower backs in dripping sheets. Meg never wanted to cut it when they were young and they stuck with that, trimming once a year or so, just to clean the ends.
That cop might be cute, but he’s got nothing on the Martinez boys.
Sage mumbles, “What have they gotten into? They’re soaked to the bone!”
Luke’s sexy smile flashes as he holds up his hands to reassure the jittery policemen, “Whoa, we’re part of the family here. Don’t want any trouble.”
Atlas says in a louder voice, “Not that you’d believe us.”
The girls and I exchange a look.
Cops shouldn’t believe us.
We all lie to their faces without
