Ef me.
Small sounds creaked throughout the house. The rush of water through pipes pulled at my attention while I lay there, chin to chest, staring at the darkness. I closed my eyes and tried to will my body to wind down.
And then I tried some more.
Chapter Seventeen
I woke up the next morning both way too early and in almost the same way I’d gotten scared awake just hours before at Sonny’s. Dex’s ass was on the couch crammed into the area where my hips were, one hand on my shoulder shaking me.
“Time to get up.”
I opened one eye, immediately focusing on the digital clock of his DVD player. I groaned, shutting it right back again. “It’s barely seven.” I’m not sure if what I said even sounded like what I’d intended it to, but it must have been enough for Dex to understand.
“Yeah, babe, but we got a busy day. Gotta run some errands.”
What I meant to say was, “I don’t know what errands you want to run at seven in the morning,” but it probably sounded more like “I…errands…seven…”
Fingers swept back the black hair plastered to my face in a gesture I was too tired to appreciate. “I need to go sort Sonny's shit out.”
Sonny. Right.
With a grunt, I rolled onto my back and blinked at the white popcorn ceiling. I sat up half-delusional, sounding more like a man than a woman. “Okay, okay. I’m up.”
After giving me instructions on where the towels were and how to use the tricky hot water, Dex dumped my bag in the standard guest bathroom with a tub blocked off by a neat blue and green striped curtain. I took a quick shower and pulled a brush through my hair before throwing it up into a ponytail. I bumbled out, still half-asleep to find Dex sitting on the couch watching television with my neatly folded blanket and pillow to his side.
“Ready,” I yawned.
He glanced up, looked back at the TV screen for half a second before darting his attention back at me. Well, specifically my legs. In my haste hours before, I’d thrown random clothes together. Apparently, I’d dug into my NSFW—not safe for work—clothing. All I’d found in the bag were shorts, yoga pants, and the three denim mini-skirts I owned. The mini-skirts were a memory of the heat and humidity in south Florida. Heat and humidity that I swear Austin compared to.
And there was no money in the world that would get me to wear one of my skirts when I was stuck riding on the back of Dex’s bike.
So my short shorts it was.
By the length of time it took Dex to stop looking at my—thankfully—shaved legs, I’d gone from being flattered to uncomfortable. The only time people stared at me that intently were when they were looking at my arm. An arm that I'd thankfully managed to subconsciously pack smartly enough for by grabbing a handful of elbow-length cardigans. “I’m ready,” I repeated.
“Right.” He stood up, huffing under his breath while turning off the television, and then striding toward the door. He gave me another sidelong glance. "You might wanna take that sweater off. It'll be pretty hot outside in no time on my bike."
Shoot. I hadn't even thought of that. I only had a tank top beneath the cardigan and... yeah. I'd rather have pit stains than pitiful looks. "I'll be fine."
Dex looked like he wanted to argue with me but luckily he dropped the issue.
The ride back into town was silent, and I got to appreciate the scenery of what was outside the Austin city limits. Except for traffic and pollution, and the feel of Dex’s bare bicep and forearm touching my knee every few minutes, the ride back was fine.
“Where are we going?” I asked him at a stoplight once we were back in the city.
He tilted his head to the side, talking loudly over the roar of the bike. “Luther’s place,” he answered. “You remember him?”
I nodded, reminded of the time I’d taken the package over to him and the night I’d caught him fondling up a twenty-something. Yet again, still friggin’ gross.
We pulled into a large two story red brick home in an upper middle class neighborhood. The same truck we’d taken to Austin was parked in the driveway alongside a Harley that looked differently than Sonny and Dex’s. As soon as he’d gotten off the bike and helped me off too, knocking on it so loud I’m sure the neighbors heard.
The door opened up much quicker than I would have expected with a disheveled looking Luther standing there bare-chested and bleary-eyed.
“Jesus, Dex, you know it’s my day off, it’s too early for this shit.”
Dex’s broad shoulders shifted tightly beneath the plain white tee he had on. Someone was on the verge of being a grumpy butt. “Sonny took off last night.”
Luther let out a long and drawn out sigh from between his lips before waving Dex—and me by default—inside. “What do you mean he took off?"
"He's goin' to look for Curt, Lu. Took Trip with him."
The older man's features tightened, his jaw locking right before he rubbed a big palm over it roughly. "Fuck."
"What do you expect? You saw him at Seton. You know what those pieces of shit will do if they don't get paid."
It didn't escape me that they both glanced at me as Dex spoke the last sentence.
I might have flinched just a little inside.
Luther groaned again, scrubbing both hands over his face. When he dropped his palms, he slowly turned to look at me. It hit me right then that the older man had the same sky blue eyes Trip did. Huh.
"Honey, don't go anywhere without one of the club members with you."
The second time in my life that the "Prez" had spoken to me and he was warning me. The urge to go visit Lanie was right smack on my forehead, but I knew I shouldn't.
Dex let out a long sigh. “I got this. Don’t worry about it,” he assured the older man.
I, on the other hand, had a really bad feeling about this.
~ * ~
“Who are those guys?” I asked Dex over breakfast.
After we left Luther’s house, we’d loaded back on the bike and made our way over to a diner nearby. We squeezed into a booth across from each other and ordered breakfast in a murmur of low requests.
Dex looked up at me as he shoveled half of a breakfast sausage into his mouth. “What guys?” He even had the nerve to look around the diner like I’d be asking about any other guys besides the ones who had taken Sonny.
“The guys at the bar. The ones my dad owes money to,” I explained, eyeing the dark circles under his radiant blue eyes. Dex had some seriously thick eyelashes.
He chewed on only one side of his mouth, eyeing me wearily. “They're another club in SA."
That was something I already knew.
“They don’t like us," he added vaguely.
You have got to be kidding me. “They don’t like you guys?”
“Yeah.”
“They don’t like you guys so they beat up Sonny instead of looking for our dad?” I could smell his bullshit a mile away.
He knew I had him, so he nodded his answer. “It's more complicated than that, Ritz. They're all Widows’ rejects. They'll try to start shit with us for whatever reason they can come up.”
"Explain that."
He lifted a brow. "Explain what?"
"What do you mean by them being rejects?"
Dex sighed, his mouth twisting. "Your pa never told you this?"
I gave him a flat look.
"You know the Original 12?" he asked.
I shook my head, earning another sigh. "They were the first Widowmakers. Twelve pissed off vets. Tough as shit, hated every single thing about the government. My granddaddy on my ma's side was one."
That made a heck of a lot of sense. One badass passing on the gene to another badass.