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“I know.”
Baby Doll whistled from the doorway of the clubhouse.
“Are you two lovebirds coming inside? Or do you intend to keep feeling each other up in the goddamn parking lot?”
Gideon huffed a laugh and draped an arm around my shoulder.
“Be there in a minute,” he called.
“We’re staying here?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Just until shit hits the fan and things turn bloody. You won’t get a lick of privacy, but it’s the safest option.”
That worried me. I fiddled with a button on Gideon’s vest. He curled his hand around mine protectively.
“I don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of me,” I whispered.
“We know what we’re up against, baby,” Gideon replied softly. “We’re not scared. This is what it means to be part of a family. You defend them to the last breath.”
I went quiet, letting his words sink in. This is what it was like to be part of a ride-or-die family. This is what I was supposed to have all along.
Chapter Nine
Gideon
The clubhouse buzzed with energy throughout the day. Despite our reputation for holding our liquor well, we didn’t drink much in order to keep a clear head. It was only a matter of time before Coleman rallied for a second hit, and we didn’t want to be caught with our pants around our ankles when that happened.
Hot Shot managed to rope Liss into a game of pool, along with Spike and Tex. I begged off, choosing to rest my shoulder instead with an ice pack and some pain killers. Liss wiped the floor with them, sinking ball after ball into one pocket or another.
It was good to see Liss laugh, teasing and trash-talking Hot Shot without hesitation. I noticed the little flinches she did around me sometimes, as if bracing herself for the moment I would raise my hand to her in anger. I knew it was an instinct to protect herself, built after years of abuse from someone she should have been able to trust. But I hoped one day that fear would be a distant memory.
As the day wore into nightfall, exhaustion settled into my bones. My vigilance began to flag. Kingpin pushed away from the table where Gatling had an array of guns spread out, cleaning them, loading them. He ambled closer and gave my boot a friendly nudge.
“Get some rest, Big G,” he said. “Credence and Blackbeard are on watch. Vlad is getting some shut eye before he takes over with Crash in two or three hours. We’ll be ready when Coleman shows up.”
I glanced toward Liss. She was seated at the bar while Baby Doll cleaned up her haircut, evening out the choppy edges and giving it a softer, rounder shape.
“We’ll keep an eye on her,” Kingpin added.
I rubbed my sore shoulder, feeling my resolve begin to crumble. I was tempted to carry Liss off to bed with me so I had her by my side at all times. Then she closed her eyes like a contented cat as Baby Doll scratched lightly at her scalp. She looked relaxed and comfortable, finding her place within the club.
“Wake me at the slightest whiff of trouble,” I said.
Kingpin waved me off.
“Of course.”
I slipped away to one of the back rooms I shared with Liss. They were basic crash pads with a bed in one corner, a nightstand, a set of shelves, and a small table with a chair that wobbled on uneven legs. The clubhouse served as a sanctuary for anyone who needed it, whether we were sleeping off a hangover, or seeking shelter to cool off after a fight with a spouse.
Setting my Glock on the nightstand, I sank into the bed with a groan of relief. After a minute or two, the door opened. A thin stream of light filtered into the dim room. Liss tiptoed in and shut the door behind her.
“I thought you would be busy for a while,” I said.
Her agile hands crept up my chest and the faint warmth of her lips pressed against my cheek.
“Just wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re okay. You’ve been rubbing your shoulder for the past hour or so.”
