challenge in her eyes.
“There are four guys in this crew who are mechanics. They love building shit, especially shit that blows up, you with me? So the next time you get in your truck, check under it for anything that looks like it doesn’t belong there.”
Cade frowned, taken completely by surprise.
“There’s three more that like driving cars. You don’t see that too often with MCs, but these three are kinda infamous for driving away from that bank up in Castaic last year.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because your enemy knows more about you than you know about them. They are a pack of violent assholes. Extremely violent, but they own this town. They run it. Not you, not Rick Trelane. You need to know exactly what this particular pack can do. And you need to start figuring out who’s out to get you and who isn’t. And , you ass”—she threw some ripped up grass his way—“it’d be nice if you’d stop treating me like I’m in fucking Group A.”
His hands curled into the grass, tempted to pull it out like she had. He let the cool blades kiss his fingers instead, pausing to consider her words. “As long as you’re part of that MC, I can’t put you in Group B.”
She might be trying to help him—for reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom—but no matter what she said, what bizarre logic she used, he’d be an idiot to trust her. A dead idiot, more than likely.
And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to send her away. “But I could see you in Group C.”
She tilted her head, eyeing him as if suspicious of him. “C?”
He nodded. Not that he had a clue what Group C would include.
“Anyone else in this group?”
“No one.” It’d been so long since he considered there might be more than two groups at all, he figured it was quite the concession.
She must have thought so, too. “But you’re still not going to let me feed you.”
He shook his head.
“Ever?”
“Have you seen the shit you eat?”
She sighed, but grinned a little. “Hard to believe I thought you’d be a tough nut to crack.”
“Why do you have to crack me?” Most folks were perfectly content to leave him alone.
Her mouth twisted as she weighed her answer. “Maybe you remind me of someone.”
He didn’t like that. He especially didn’t like the faraway gleam in her eye as she said it. As if she was thinking of whoever that someone might be. “Well then, why don’t you go crack that guy and leave me alone?”
For the first time in a very long time, something that felt like guilt flickered in his senses when she flinched. “He died.”
The quiet between them stretched. He should apologize, he knew. His parents had raised him a hell of a lot better than that, but his mouth stayed shut.
He watched her as she stared at the kids in the park the way he’d tried to do since she started interrupting his lunch breaks. His words had hurt her, but she didn’t fire back. Didn’t cry. Didn’t do much of anything but hold her taco and stare at the park. Just when he was about to open his mouth—and say what, exactly?—she faced him with a thoughtful frown. “What do you think of donuts?”
That was when it finally dawned on him.
It didn’t matter what group he put her in or what phenomenally stupid thing he said to her.
He wasn’t getting rid of her.
…
“How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t want to talk about it, Trina!”
He wasn’t quite sure when it happened that he’d begun thinking of her as Trina, instead of Katy, like everyone else. Or actually calling her Trina. Or when exactly he’d started having actual conversations with her that required using her name, but it had happened. Over the weeks she’d been dropping by, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes she stayed at the park after he left. It was especially telling when he came to his spot somewhere in the third month of these bizarre lunches and found her waiting…and he sat down anyway. Before that, he’d been able to
“There are four guys in this crew who are mechanics. They love building shit, especially shit that blows up, you with me? So the next time you get in your truck, check under it for anything that looks like it doesn’t belong there.”
Cade frowned, taken completely by surprise.
“There’s three more that like driving cars. You don’t see that too often with MCs, but these three are kinda infamous for driving away from that bank up in Castaic last year.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because your enemy knows more about you than you know about them. They are a pack of violent assholes. Extremely violent, but they own this town. They run it. Not you, not Rick Trelane. You need to know exactly what this particular pack can do. And you need to start figuring out who’s out to get you and who isn’t. And , you ass”—she threw some ripped up grass his way—“it’d be nice if you’d stop treating me like I’m in fucking Group A.”
His hands curled into the grass, tempted to pull it out like she had. He let the cool blades kiss his fingers instead, pausing to consider her words. “As long as you’re part of that MC, I can’t put you in Group B.”
She might be trying to help him—for reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom—but no matter what she said, what bizarre logic she used, he’d be an idiot to trust her. A dead idiot, more than likely.
And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to send her away. “But I could see you in Group C.”
She tilted her head, eyeing him as if suspicious of him. “C?”
He nodded. Not that he had a clue what Group C would include.
“Anyone else in this group?”
“No one.” It’d been so long since he considered there might be more than two groups at all, he figured it was quite the concession.
She must have thought so, too. “But you’re still not going to let me feed you.”
He shook his head.
“Ever?”
“Have you seen the shit you eat?”
She sighed, but grinned a little. “Hard to believe I thought you’d be a tough nut to crack.”
“Why do you have to crack me?” Most folks were perfectly content to leave him alone.
Her mouth twisted as she weighed her answer. “Maybe you remind me of someone.”
He didn’t like that. He especially didn’t like the faraway gleam in her eye as she said it. As if she was thinking of whoever that someone might be. “Well then, why don’t you go crack that guy and leave me alone?”
For the first time in a very long time, something that felt like guilt flickered in his senses when she flinched. “He died.”
The quiet between them stretched. He should apologize, he knew. His parents had raised him a hell of a lot better than that, but his mouth stayed shut.
He watched her as she stared at the kids in the park the way he’d tried to do since she started interrupting his lunch breaks. His words had hurt her, but she didn’t fire back. Didn’t cry. Didn’t do much of anything but hold her taco and stare at the park. Just when he was about to open his mouth—and say what, exactly?—she faced him with a thoughtful frown. “What do you think of donuts?”
That was when it finally dawned on him.
It didn’t matter what group he put her in or what phenomenally stupid thing he said to her.
He wasn’t getting rid of her.
…
“How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t want to talk about it, Trina!”
He wasn’t quite sure when it happened that he’d begun thinking of her as Trina, instead of Katy, like everyone else. Or actually calling her Trina. Or when exactly he’d started having actual conversations with her that required using her name, but it had happened. Over the weeks she’d been dropping by, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes she stayed at the park after he left. It was especially telling when he came to his spot somewhere in the third month of these bizarre lunches and found her waiting…and he sat down anyway. Before that, he’d been able to
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