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Ripper licks his lips. “If someone did that to Tara, I’d have their fuckin’ head. You ended your situationship with Stiletto because you had a thing for Jordyn, didn’t you?”
I swallow hard and look over my shoulder, making sure we don’t have any prying ears. “Yeah, I did. Jordyn’s always captivated me. But the moment I had her, I suggested we have a one-night stand like an absolute idiot. What man in his right mind does that?”
Ripper cackles and takes another sip of his beer. “The kind that wanted to talk himself out of what he really desired.”
Shit, sometimes I think Ripper is like a damn therapist.
“Blake’s gonna be a problem,” Ripper mutters, almost to himself. He leans back against the bar, “As much as I don’t want to, we’re gonna have to tell Zane and Blackjack what happened.”
“I really don’t want to,” I confess, knowing it’ll spread through the clubhouse like wildfire. “The second we tell them, Zane or Blackjack is gonna tell her fathers.”
“Yeah.” Ripper nods, shrugging his shoulders. “But there’s not much we can do about that. With the issues the club has, we need to go and tell them so they can be aware.”
“Fuck, I wish shit was simpler.” The words leave my mouth before I can filter them. “Wish I didn’t have to blow up my spot like this.”
“You’re walking a fine line, Bama,” Ripper warns. “But, coming from someone who’s with a club member’s daughter, just keep your head screwed on straight.”
“I hear you,” I say, though I’m not sure if I really do.
All I know is that Jordyn being mixed up with Blake probably isn’t a coincidence, and I wonder if The Commander sent him to her for surveillance or even leverage.
“So,” Ripper mutters, running a hand through his now scruffy beard. It’s like since he settled down with Tara, it’s been growing out. “When you gonna lock her down?”
“Lock her down?” I scoff, shaking my head. The weight of the question feels like a punch to the gut. “Man, I don’t even know. Gotta sort out my feelings and shit before I can do anythin’.”
“Testing the waters, huh?” He smirks.
“Yeah,” I say, leaning back against the rough wooden bar. My fingers drum an erratic beat on its surface. “I need to talk to her about shit. We said one time, but you know damn well I can’t ignore the way I want her.”
“Do I ever,” he replies, nodding slowly. “Just don’t take too long, Bama. Waters have a way of getting choppy real fast around here.”
“Trust me,” I say, locking eyes with him. “I don’t plan on waitin’ too long at all.”
I change the subject from me and Jordyn to something that’s been nagging at me the last few days.
“Hey, what was up with the ride being canceled last week?” I ask, shifting gears.
The memory of Blake’s cocky grin flashes through my mind. “Since you knew about Blake being The Commander’s grandson, you must be privy to more shit than the rest of us.”
Ripper’s expression hardens, his jaw tightening before he shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t know. You’re teacher’s pet around here, or did you forget that?” he asks, his voice lacking the usual edge.
“Seriously?” I press, unable to mask my frustration. “You don’t know?”
“Yeah, seriously,” Ripper repeats, his gaze meeting mine without flinching. “Don’t got all the answers, Bama.”
His indifference stings, but I know better than to push further.
Knowledge is power, and while I want to dig deep, if he doesn’t have the answers, then he doesn’t have the answers.
I glance around the clubhouse, the familiar scent of leather and stale beer grounding me.
The place was mostly barren but is now buzzing with low conversations, the hum of engines outside a constant reminder of the life we’ve all chosen.
“All right,” I mutter, letting the subject drop for now. “Guess some things we have to wait to hear about.”
“Exactly,” Ripper says, his gaze drifting past me, probably already moving on to the next issue at hand.
His shoulders relax slightly, the tension easing from his posture.
