Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
JINX
I bought a house.
I stare at the message from an unknown number, but the question on my mind isn’t who it came from; it’s how she got my number.
Before I get a chance to respond, another message follows up on the first.
Actually, my offer was accepted. The house won’t be mine for another week or two until the papers are final.
And she thought to tell me first.
I toss the property bills on top of my laptop and push it to the side, then kick back in the chair beside the fireplace.
The nights grow cooler as we head toward winter, and sometimes it’s nice to give myself a headache with the less glamorous parts of club life in a more comfortable setting than at my tiny desk in my room.
Did they give you my number as part of the deal?
I hit send and set the phone on my lap, staring into the flickering flames.
It feels good to be playful with someone.
To pretend I’m somebody else for a second.
Fuck knows the past week has been one revelation after another.
What, with Matthias and his sister stirring the pot, the Amish wanting somewhere to store machinery on site, which calls for more building, and now Vanessa’s stepfather has been spotted meeting with the local evangelical college.
Everyone calls the Kings of Anarchy the troublemakers, but it seems to me we’re the least of their worries.
Funny. No. I used my privileges at the council to find that.
I huff a laugh, earning a curious glance from Darko, who sits in the far corner, doodling on his iPad.
Pretty sure that’s against the privacy policy or some shit. Maybe grounds for dismissal.
Are you threatening to get me fired?
If it means you show me what you really do for a living.
Maybe that was too forward? Fuck. It’s been far too long since I tried flirting with anyone. Not that I should be flirting with Kyra. She’s a critical connection to the Sheriff—that’s all.
Subscriptions start at twenty bucks a month. But you’ll probably want to jump up to the top tier to get the best content.
My heart starts pounding in my chest. I glance at Darko to make sure he’s not watching and thumb a reply.
Is this you saying you’re gonna tell me your handle?
She doesn’t need to know that I already have it. I want to know if she feels comfortable enough with me to share it.
I’m not going to make it that easy on you. Anyway. You never congratulated me on the house.
Congratulations. How am I supposed to work it out? I don’t get special work privileges like you do.
It’s a cute two-story, three-bedroom bungalow. Thanks for asking.
A grin curls my lips.
Three bedroom, huh? Plenty of space to turn one into a room for filming content.
You know, a woman could think you’re only after one thing with the way you’re behaving.
Not just one thing. But I definitely think it’s a perk of the package.
The phone falls quiet for a while. A far too long while.
I tuck the device beside my leg and pick up the laptop and paperwork as our chaplain, Flinch, enters mid-conversation with one of the prospects, Tease.
Now I remember why I prefer my room. I love my brothers, but goddamn it can be like living at a frat house.
Or at least, what I imagine living at one would be like, considering I never stood a hope of going to college.
Hence, the headache as I try to work out which insurance policy is best for our property.
“Anything I can help with?” Flinch sits his aged ass down in the chair that faces mine, elbows to the rests as he leans forward.
“Unless you understand legalese better than me, nope.”
He shrugs. “Perhaps, but I think I rescind my offer if that’s what you’re dealing with.”
I peer at him over the twelve-page policy in my hand and smile.
“What’s new?”
I respect the hell out of the guy. He does his job well, making sure to check in with everyone regularly enough, offering his ear or a helping hand where he can to lighten the mental load we carry. But tonight is not the night.
I can’t make heads or tails of my emotions myself, let alone hope to cultivate a conversation with somebody else that doesn’t let on too much.
“Just what you’ve probably already heard about.”
“Seen your old man lately?”
Fuck. And there it is. The one thing I wasn’t thinking about that made this sense of overwhelm that much more bearable. “Nope.”
“How was he the last time you did?” Flinch asks, relaxing into his seat.
Damn it. “Same as always. Half drunk and complaining about the direction of the wind.”
Flinch shakes his head. “I should probably go out there and see him myself, but he was never the most welcoming to my interference when he was active in the club, so I can’t imagine it’s any different now.”
“Probably not.” Also, probably where I got my proclivity to shove my feelings into an iron box from. “But you’re welcome to try.” It might make me feel better knowing he’s getting as much hell as he gives me.
“And you?”
“Working.” I lift the document a little.
“Apart from that?”
Fuck my life. I set the document back on the keyboard and sandwich it between the closed screen. “Want to narrow down where you head with this?”
Tease leaves the room, perhaps feeling he’s no longer welcome if one of his officers gets somewhat personal. I like the kid. Quiet. Wicked sense of humor. But disciplined. I get the impression he’ll go far.
“I heard you’ve been tasked with befriending Kyra Green in the interest of the club.”
Fuck my drunk ass for telling him about her all those years ago. The man has a memory like an elephant.
“I have.”
“How is she?”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
“Do you think that’d be a good idea when you already act defensive about her?”
We stare at one another a long while. He’s never been formally trained, as far as I know, but the guy is a Grade A mindfucker. He knows how to massage the reactions from you, forcing conversation about the shit you just want to keep fucking hidden.
“I respect her. That’s all.”
My phone vibrates against my leg. Of course.
“If you say so.” Flinch steeples his hands before him. “It’d be dangerous to mix personal feelings with the responsibilities of the club, though. You should be mindful of getting too attached.”
You don’t say. I run my teeth over my bottom lip and glance at Darko. He doodles away, headphones now tugged over his ears. If they’re even switched on. Wouldn’t put it past the fucker to listen to every word I say.
“If I have a problem with those boundaries, I’ll be sure not to let you know.” I open up the laptop for the umpteenth time and pointedly ignore him.
His observation gnaws at my awareness, needly teeth digging against my nerves until I slam the computer closed and set it on the side table with a thunk. “What?”
“You know I only aim to help.”
“I think the difference in my mood now compared to when you walked in shows that you’re not.”
He tilts his head back, defiant when I grab my phone, slap it on the laptop, and haul the whole damn lot upstairs with me to find some fucking peace and quiet.
Cozy evening by the fire, my ass. Ain’t anything cozy in a clubhouse.
They’re worse than gossiping teenagers, most of them.
So starved for drama that they seek it out in places they aren’t welcome.
I abandon the insurance bullshit on my desk and take my phone to bed, propping myself up against the headboard.
When you truly know me, you’ll be able to work it out.
Fuck my life.