Chapter 29
DEXTER
After Hermine leaves, I take a minute to pull myself together.
I hit the private dressing room, and with no meetings on the calendar, I swap the suit for street clothes.
You know, the standard post-lunch reset: The kind that starts with an indulgence I didn’t schedule and ends with my girl walking out feeling me every time she takes a step. Or sits down.
No complaints.
With a clear head and a fresh charge running through my veins, I throw myself back into work.
In the afternoon, I prep a dummy pitch with fake numbers and fake rollout for a fake potential client, just enough bait to see if it leaks.
The name on the file is Cal Ashford of Ashford Motors, a nationwide motorcycle dealership, who is supposedly exploring a substantial expansion.
Cal’s a biker buddy and longtime friend.
He’s one of those “get me out of a mess” guys you keep in your back pocket.
I call him up, and a short time later, I’m finishing up the decoy file with all the polished detail it needs to look legit.
Once it’s ready, I hand it to Hermine with a clear directive: send it through the exact same channel we used for Swan. No detours, no extra eyes. I emphasize the importance of keeping everything strictly confidential.
Now I wait. A few days, maybe less. And we’ll see who takes the bait.
The next time someone walks into my office, I don’t bother looking up. “If you’re here to ruin my good mood, turn around and try again tomorrow.”
“Hardly. I’m here to rescue you, boss. Your bike’s callin’ and so’s the first round.”
I look up as Keith strolls in, Reed on his heels. “Is it five already?” I ask.
“Six, actually.” Reed hooks a shoulder against the doorframe, loosening his tie with one hand, momentarily distracted as a young tech walks by.
I lean back and stretch. Normally, my body would be stiff from sitting so long, but I’m still riding the afterglow from earlier. “Guess I got sucked into this contract.”
“No shock there,” Keith says. “Every time we get one, you insist on goin’ through every page like it’s a bloody treasure map.”
“That’s why we don’t get screwed over. Half-assed doesn’t win bids.”
“Keith only pushes harder when the wheels are coming off,” Reed says, voice dry.
Keith turns and gives him a dark look. “Sound, Reed. Always the laugh with you. You ever think of lightenin’ up, just once?”
“When there’s a reason.”
“What, when the numbers hit six zeroes?”
Reed doesn’t even blink. “When there’s a reason,” he repeats, slipping his hands into his pockets.
“You’re a real ray of fuckin’ sunshine, so y’are.
It’s grand. Not all of us were born charmin’.
” Keith shakes his head and chuckles, already turning toward the door.
“Right, that’s enough soul-searchin’. Pint’s waitin’.
Let’s move.” He shoots me a look over his shoulder. “And boss, no rain check, no whinging.”
A Guinness with the guys sounds pretty damn good, and I have no problem calling it a day. “Let’s do it.” I power down my computer and grab my helmet.
The three of us head out.
We haul ass to Mom’s Dirty Dogs, our go-to biker bar.
It has good food, good drinks, live music: exactly the kind of place that takes the edge off after a long day.
It’s busier than usual tonight, but given the fact that we’re practically family around here, we skip the line and head straight to our booth.
“Eyy! Look who it is!” Sweet Thelma, the sixty-something bar owner hollers from the kitchen, and her sister Beth waves to us from behind the bar. “Eyy! The devils!”
“Hey, girls,” I call back. The devils? Someone’s overdue for an eye exam. “Two ice-cold beers and a Guinness to our booth.”
“You got it, sugar,” Beth calls.
As soon as we settle in, Diana glides over, hips swinging, smile in place, and sets down our usual drinks. “Well, well. Thought you boys ditched us for a shinier bar.”
Keith grins and throws her a wink. “Ah, don’t be breakin’ my heart, love. Sure you know you’re the only reason we keep comin’ back.”
She laughs and blows him a kiss. “Still full of it, Keith.” She sets my drink down, and her eyes soften. “Hey, Dexter.”
“Hey, D,” I say. “Wings for the table. Baked potato, no butter, and whatever plant-based protein you’ve got that isn’t fried to hell. Side of grilled veggies if you have some.”
“You got it.”
Keith snorts. Reed just nods like it’s nothing new. Once she walks off, we all reach for our glasses.
“To the pitch,” I say.
Reed lifts his beer. “To making Mitch sweat.”
Keith raises his glass with a grin. “To making ’em bleed.”
We clink, and we drink.
Keith jerks his chin toward Diana behind the bar. “The curvy one’s been eyein’ ya since we walked in.” He waggles his eyebrows.
I don’t even glance her way. “I’m not blind. She’s attractive, but tonight’s not about that.”
Reed gives me a look, one brow ticking up. “That right.”
“Just not where my head’s at,” I say, thinking of Holly and that lipstick. That mouth.
Keith sets his pint down and wipes foam from his mouth. “Something’s changed. Not like ye to stall around.”
“Yeah? You keep a scorecard now?” I ask.
Keith starts counting on his fingers. “Aye, someone’s gotta. Diana. The blonde dancer from Sinners Lounge. Sophia the boutique owner who was all over the place. That curvy one from the café—”
“All right. That’s enough.” I shoot him a warning look.
“And, of course, let’s not forget about the lovely Holly.”
“She doesn’t go on that list,” I snap, sharper than I meant to.
Reed shrugs his shoulders. “You’re sleeping with her.”
“She’s my best friend. Don’t put her in the same category.”
Keith eyes me, suspicion written all over his face. “So what makes Holly different?”
“She just is. She’s… Holly.”
“Every woman you’ve dated had a bit of Holly in her,” Reed tells me.
“Don’t read into it. We’re trying to have a baby. That’s it.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Any fella who can describe the color of a woman’s eyes as surely as you can Holly’s has got it fierce bad in me book. What was it? Hazel?” Keith elbows Reed and shakes his head in mock disbelief, begging to have his ass kicked, and takes a sip of his pint.
I tip my glass back, and swallow slow. “Think what you like. Just don’t lump her in with the rest.”
“All right then, enough about Dexter’s love life, what about mine, eh?” Keith asks. “How about someone asks me who I’m shaggin’ these days for a change?”
“All right then,” Reed says, “who you been shaggin’, Romeo?”
Keith lifts his pint with a dramatic sigh. “Well… there was a girl.”
“And?”
“Well, what can I say? Wasn’t worth it.” He takes a long drink.
Reed reaches for his beer. “Why not?”
Another dramatic sigh. “Bad orgasm.”
“Men don’t have bad orgasms.”
Keith scoffs and puts the glass down. “I’m tellin’ ya, pal: it was bad.”
Reed, dry as ever, fixes me with a look: “That sounds like something a chick would say.”
Keith swings his head my way too, foam still clinging to his lip. “Boss, tell him he’s talkin’ shite. Fellas can get ’em too.”
Now they’re both staring at me, waiting for the verdict. I shrug. “You mean as in finishing too fast?”
“Nah. I mean ruined. As in someone walked in at the worst possible moment. Killed the vibe cold.”
“Who walked in? Your mom?” I tease.
“No. Me cat. Cuddlebug.”
Reed chokes on his beer. “Fuck.”
“Strolls in. Stares me straight in the eyes. Creepy little fecker. Me whole body froze! Like slammin’ the brakes and throwin’ it in reverse at 290. Me balls shriveled, and me semen turned around, rushin’ all the way back up.”
“That’s not a bad orgasm,” Reed says. “That’s a fucking crime scene.”
“You can say that again.” Keith groans, reliving the memory. “The girl was laughin’ her arse off.”
“Did she come?”
“How the feck should I know? I was busy havin’ me bad orgasm. No idea if she finished. I just winged it. Never saw her again.” He shakes his head, as if he’s discarding an unpleasant memory, and turns to me. “Anyway… all jokin’ aside. I’m happy for the two of ye. Ye’re gonna be great parents.”
I grin. “Hell of a pivot, Keith.”
Reed leans back with his beer, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Are she and the child moving in with you?”
Aside from the basics, I haven’t told the guys much about Holly’s and my arrangement. They never really asked. Most times, we keep things surface-level: work, bikes, beer.
“She’s moving.”
Reed watches me. “Where to?”
Keith rakes a hand down his face, turning to Reed. “Use your brain. She’s movin’ in with him… right?” He turns back to me, nodding, waiting for me to confirm it.
“No,” I say. “She’s moving to another country.”
Their faces go flat.
Both set their glasses down.
“Wait. Hold up,” Keith says. “Another country? Ya didn’t know that before ye started tryin’, did ya?”
“Yeah. She told me.”
Reed looks at me, taking that in. His gaze darkens. “And you’re good with that?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Because it’s your kid she’s takin’ with her?” Keith says, his voice rising.
“I knew the deal going in. It was either me, or some anonymous donor. What would you have fucking done? I’d rather it’s me than some damn dude we don’t know.”
Keith lifts a hand, palm out. “Okay, take it handy. I get it. So, where’s she movin’ to?”
“Back to the UK. To stay with her sister. For a while.”
“A while being… what?” Keith narrows his eyes. “Couple weeks?”
“Few years.”
Silence. Again.
They stare at me.
Keith blinks. “You just say years?”
“Close your mouth,” I mutter. “That’s what she said.”
“You lost your mind?” Reed shakes his head. “My kid in another country, that would finish me.”
He’s not wrong. I have. Completely. The thought has been lodged in my gut since she told me. I knew this was the plan, but knowing it and facing it? Two very different things.
Reed’s eyes stay on me. “So answer me this. Do you actually want her to go?”
“Of course I don’t. I want them close.”
Keith drains the last dregs of his pint and levels me with that no-bullshit look of his. “So, ya need to get off your arse and do somethin’ about it.”
“I told her I’d give her space. Let her handle things how she wants.”
“Aye, and next you’ll be tellin’ me you’re takin’ up ballet. Come off it, boss. Since when do you hand over the reins when it actually matters?”
“What do you want me to do? Chain myself to her suitcase?”
His face lights up. “Now you’re talkin’ sense. Bit of grand romantic madness never hurt anyone.”
Diana saves him by showing up with the food. Keith shifts gears immediately, starts tearing into the wings like he’s been starving for hours, cracking jokes with his mouth full. Reed goes quiet, lets it pass, and steers the conversation to motorcycles.
But my head is still stuck. Keith’s words hit a nerve.
And now there’s an idea I can’t unthink.