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My gaze slid over him, taking in his newest creation. He wore a black striped prisoner shirt and pants. The sleeves had been ripped off, and Cuckoo’s arms were bare, showing off his dark ink, biceps, and muscled forearms. A prisoner’s number in black block letters stretched over his chest. He wore his cut over the shirt. It sort of worked in an odd way. The bottom of his pants was loosely tucked into black boots.
A chain hung from his belt loop, and he’d attached several shrunken head props. His face was painted with Halloween makeup like a demented clown with blood splatter on the cheeks and forehead. He finished off the look with a headband that appeared to show a knife through his skull. Handle on the left and the end of the blade on the right. It wasn’t a cheap one either. Almost looked real.
He grinned as we stared, exposing bright white vampire teeth. It seemed to be a favorite item. He wore them often.
“You do attract attention,” I murmured.
He wiggled his brows. “In more ways than one.”
Gail tilted her head, tapping her chin with a long, manicured nail. “I believe that’s the best costume I’ve ever seen.”
He slapped a hand over his heart. “Gail Holmes. You just made my heart melt.”
She snorted. I rolled my eyes.
“I think you should ditch Talon and ride with me, darlin’.”
“I think he’d probably kick your ass if he ever heard you say that.”
Cuckoo seemed to think it over. “Damn. It’s tempting to see if he’d try.”
I shooed him away from the table. “Scoot. You’re interrupting girl time.”
Cuckoo reached for a cinnamon roll, and I swatted at his hand, too late to prevent the theft. He winked as he backed away, taking a massive bite.
“You’re an ass, Cuckoo!” I shouted, gaining a few chuckles from the guys around us.
Gail shook her head. “He’s a handful.”
“You just wait until he meets his mate. I’m going to have so much fun.”
“We both will.”
Later that afternoon, I stuck my head in the kitchen, looking for my sister. Two club girls were cutting up veggies and boiling pasta. They split the chores, including cleaning, cooking, and shopping, although their primary duty involved pleasing the members, specifically the single guys in the club.
Since my arrival, I hadn’t seen anyone cheat and hoped I didn’t. I didn’t think I’d be able to keep my mouth shut, and that could cause trouble. For now, I didn’t dwell on it.
“Anyone see Bree?”
“She’s outside at the picnic tables.”
Of course. I should have checked there first. “Thanks.”
I found Bree in the shade, sipping on lemonade. Her long hair was piled high on her head in a messy bun due to the scorching temperature outdoors. This summer had already reached record highs. I joined her, taking the empty lounge chair on her right.
To her left, Lucky Lou sat in his new red scooter. They weren’t talking, but I had the impression that they enjoyed the solitude. It wasn’t the first time Lou sat with her outdoors or in the kitchen while she baked. They shared a connection, one that Bree needed after all the trauma she’d endured.
Lou was a kind, patient, and cantankerous older man who liked to shake things up a bit when he visited. The only exception to that was his visits with Bree. He knew what she needed to heal, and he gave his time, support, and unflinching aid to her recovery.
“The breeze is cooler than yesterday,” I announced, crossing my feet at the ankles. “It’s risen from the lower levels of hell to the highest tier of hell.”
Lou snickered.
Bree’s lips quivered with amusement. “I think you’re right.”
“That means we need more lemonade. I’ll go rustle us up some.” He winked before pulling back on the lever with his hand, prompting his scooter to creep toward the entrance to the clubhouse.
“Those cinnamon rolls were to die for this morning. It’s the best batch you’ve made to date.”
