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Something is up and I have a sinking suspicion that Crosby knows what it is.
Before I can put all the pieces together, Prodigal is there, his eyes hard as he looks at Crosby. His tone is ice cold, “I know I didn’t hear you tell my old lady to be careful.”
Crosby scoffs and his eyes widen a fraction before he defends himself, “She should be careful.”
I watch as Crosby rubs the back of his neck and shoots his brother an apologetic look, something passing between them. As I have one of those damn eureka moments, I gasp.
When Crosby’s eyes swing my way and I hiss, “You know what she’s been hiding.”
The sheepish grin he gives me is answer enough. My eyes narrow to slits that are nearly imperceptible and he holds his hands up in surrender. “How about you ladies go grab seats? I’ll tag a prospect to bring us something to drink.”
“Yeah,” I warn, “you should run away with your tail tucked between your legs.” My voice is threatening, “You kept your mouth shut even when I told you I knew she was hiding something from me.”
Wrenley’s laughter has me turning my glare toward her. Prodigal tenses, but he, wisely, doesn’t say anything. Her tone is placating, “I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.”
I throw my hands in the air, my voice incredulous, “So you are hiding something from me.”
Crosby hooks his arm around my waist and tucks me into his side. I open my mouth to tell him off, or something, but it snaps closed when he presses a tender kiss to my temple. Wrenley’s eyes go from curious to fucking sparkling as she looks between us like we’re a US Open tennis match.
When I don’t push him away or step out of his embrace, questions start to swirl in my best friend’s eyes. She’s tried to talk me into accepting Crosby’s claim on me since before I was shot. I get it, she wanted her bestie next to her in the old lady club. While she could understand where I was coming from with not wanting to get hurt, she was also adamant that Crosby was being transparent with me in terms of what he wanted from me.
At the party the night before the Poker Run, when everything went to shit, she clinked her drink against mine and then nodded over to where one of the club angels was approaching Crosby as he and Prodigal leaned against the bar, both of their gazes fixed on the two of us. It was hard keeping my facial expression in a neutral mask, but I was determined not to see how much a woman hitting on him bothered me.
I could admit to myself that Connie, whose name I had learned—along with all the club angels since I didn’t want to be struck unaware, and Wrenley was more than happy to fill me in—at the first party I attended at the club house, was beautiful. Sure, she was dressed scantily without a hint of shame, but I wasn’t going to judge someone for their life choices when all they were giving away was sex. Wrenley explained the whole angel situation to me, and it was clear, to me at least, that they gained just as much as they gave.
Now, admittedly, my opinion was colored by not having any real skin in the game. Not at first, at least. Wrenley gave me the run down before I had locked eyes with Crosby across the common room.
The bad seed club angel, Brandi, had already been kicked out before I was allowed to come to a club party. The only reason I didn’t pitch a fucking fit at being denied access to my best friend was because I knew it was because she was being kept safe. What’s safter than almost complete lock down on a biker compound?
When I did meet Brandi, I had already heard all about the shit she tried to pull and the way she was kicked to the curb. Seeing her standing next to the man who was stalking my best friend as he held a gun in his hand, it was clear to see that she was unhinged. Anarchy killing her was kind of fitting, though it could have happened without getting shot myself.
But I digress.
When Connie put her hand on Crosby’s arm the night before my entire life changed, I felt victorious when he flinched away. I wasn’t close enough to hear what he said to her, but I could tell he was speaking to her as she paled and scurried away.
The sexiest thing about watching the interaction? He was looking at me the entire fucking time. It was a damn good thing I was sitting down because if I wasn’t I would have been swooning all over the damn place.
Wrenley’s voice was smug as she leaned into my space and whispered, “Now, try and tell me that wasn’t hot as hell and that there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”
Well, at least she tried to whisper. Since she had a few drinks in her, she wasn’t great at volume modulation, to say the least, but at least she didn’t go full bullhorn with her words.
Small favors, you know?
Just to try and hammer my point home, I tore my gaze away from Crosby and gave her the most dramatic eyeroll I could muster. “You just want to pull me into your strange old lady cult,” I teased her. She smirked at me, and I could tell she was gearing up for some sort of argument, but I wasn’t in the mood for it at all. I shook my head, my voice taking on a needy quality, “Let it go. At least for tonight.”
The sigh she let out was tortured, but she agreed, and we spent the rest of the night having fun in a way that only best friends can achieve.
And then we all know what went down at the Poker Run the next day.
Wrenley hasn’t really brought up what is going on with Crosby and me. I was thankful since we’ve had enough going on without going down that road. But now I get the feeling that she’s not going to let it go any longer.
That’s okay because I also have some shit to get to the bottom of in regard to my best friend.
“I would like something fruity, please,” I put on my best sweet voice as I glance up at Crosby, the way he smirks down at me telling me that he sees right through me. For some strange reasons, I don’t mind. I lean into his side a little before I step out of his hold and grab Wrenley’s hand. With a wave of my hand toward some of the tables, a few of which are unoccupied, I declare, “Lead the way. Secrets are afoot!”
Wrenley giggles, but instead of leading me to the tables, she pulls me toward a couch on the other side of the room. Thankfully, none of the brothers or angels are occupying the space. Yeah, I’ve seen these couches be defiled at more than one party here.
And I’ve seen far more of some of Crosby’s brothers, and the angels, than I ever wanted to see. I just accepted it as part of being included in this family. Still, if I could erase those memories then I would be damn happy about it.
