Page 48 of Talk Wicked to Me

“I wish we’d thought of this,” Zander said. “This is some epic shit.”

Baz narrowed his eyes, his gaze sliding curiously over Blaine, Maverick, and Zeke, who were shaking their heads. “No fucking way. Tank?” He turned to look at his older brother.

A sly grin curved Tank’s lips, but he shook his head. His dark eyes moved over Baz’s shoulder just as a heavy hand landed on it, and their father appeared beside him with their uncle Preacher. They were two of the toughest men Baz knew, but while Preacher exuded an air of authority that demanded attention, with serious ice-blue eyes, pitch-black brows, slicked-back salt-and-pepper hair, a matching beard, and a body full of ink, his father, who went by the road name Con, not because his name was Conroy, gave off a playful vibe, much like Gunner and Baz, with his collar-length silver hair, killer dimples, and chiseled movie-star features.

His father gave his shoulder a squeeze. “It’s not every day your son delivers a baby.”

“Word around town is that all the single ladies are kicking themselves for not figuring out the baby scheme to snag Mr. Husband Material,” Preacher said with a smirk, making the guys chuckle.

Baz scoffed at their shit-eating grins.

“So, are you officially off the market?” Maverick asked.

“Say yes,” Zander urged. “More women for me. That is, unless Emerson is looking for a real man to eat her cookies.”

Baz jabbed a finger in Zander’s chest. “You stay the fuck away from Emerson and her cookies. And no, I’m not off the fucking market. This isn’t that.” Even if every iota of him wanted it to be.

“You’re getting pretty riled up for a guy who doesn’t want her cookies,” Zeke said.

“I didn’t say I don’t want them,” Baz bit out. “I…We’re…Fuck you all. Can we just start the damn meeting already?”

The guys laughed.

“This is a first. I’ve never seen Baz befuddled,” Zeke said.

Zander barked out a laugh. “It’s damn good entertainment.”

Baz scowled at him.

“Watch it, Zan,” Preacher said. “There’s nothing more dangerous than a caged lion.”

“Even if he put that lock on the cage himself,” his father said, like he’d read Baz’s mind.

“You boys try to behave.” Preacher lifted his chin toward the front of the room.

Preacher and Con strode toward the head table. As the president and vice president of the chapter, that was the cue for the forty-plus members to take their seats. Baz sat at a table with his cousins and brothers, the din of the room quieting.

The meeting was called to order, and as club finances and other administrative business were discussed, Baz’s thoughts were on Emerson. After the state he’d found her in last night, he hated leaving her alone tonight almost as much as he hated the idea of not seeing her until Friday. He’d asked his mother to stop by to see if she needed anything while he was at church, and he’d been relieved when she’d said she’d already planned on it, but it wasn’t the same as being there himself.

He pulled out his phone and navigated to the picture she’d sent in her last text. But as he took in her smiling eyes, he saw flashes of a younger, heartbroken Emerson sprinting in the darkness toward loving parents who’d been stolen out from under her without warning. He felt a weight sinking into his chest. The weight of grief that he knew had a hard and fast starting point but never really ended.

Fuck.

Tank nudged him with his elbow, lifting his chin in question, brows slanted.

“Nothing.” Baz pocketed his phone.

Tank leaned closer, whispering gruffly, “Talk after the meeting?”

“Nah. I’m good.” He was anything but good, but talking wouldn’t do shit to ease the conflicting emotions eating away at him.

“The next order of business is the annual Suicide-Awareness Ride and Rally in honor of Connor and Ginger’s beloved daughter, and my niece, Ashley.” Preacher looked thoughtfully at Conroy and then at Baz and his brothers and cousins, his silent support weaving around them. His attention lingered on Maverick, who had been fostered and later adopted by Preacher and his wife, Reba. Maverick had had a rough start to life, with a thieving father and losing his mother to suicide when he was just a little boy. Maverick didn’t like to talk about that time in his life, which was why Preacher wasn’t honoring Maverick’s mother publicly.

As Preacher returned his attention to the group, doling out details about the event, Baz and his brothers shared a knowing nod, silently acknowledging their own support for the sister they missed every fucking day of their lives.

When Preacher finished talking about the event, he handed the floor to Conroy, who said, “Wicked Animal Rescue will be holding its annual adoption event later this summer, and Gunner has asked to say a few words.” He nodded to Gunner.

Gunner pushed to his feet. “Y’all know the drill. We’d appreciate it if you could share details about the event on social media and put up flyers at your work or hand them out wherever you think it’ll help. There are flyers on the head table, and you can download flyers and graphics from our website. Sid and Tori are coordinating volunteers and donations.”