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Ghost raised an eyebrow. “You feeling okay?”
“Fuck you,” he grumbled.
“Just checking,” Ghost said.
“She spent seven years with other people deciding shit for her. First Viper, then Shadow, Crow, Razor, and Bishop.”
Monster nodded. “Good point.”
Jackhammer continued. “If she stays, I want her staying because she chooses us.” Ghost was quiet, and then he looked at Angel.
“Us?” Ghost asked.
Jackhammer stared at him. “Don't be stupid.”
Ghost's mouth twitched. “Wanted to hear you say it.”
“Asshole,” Hammer muttered. Monster laughed, and Angel stirred. All three shut up again, and Jackhammer looked out the window. Us—that word should've bothered him, but it didn't. He and Ghost had made the pact years ago—back when it was easy to talk about some imaginary woman they'd both want. They'd share her with no jealousy, no conventional bullshit, no one forcing Ghost into a life he didn't want, and no one forcing Jackhammer to choose between the club and another white picket fence. It was simple, except Angel wasn't imaginary. She was complicated, stubborn, infuriating, funny, scared, brave, and currently drooling on Jackhammer's shirt. He looked down. Yep—definitely drooling. He smiled because maybe simple was overrated.
Monster's Madhouse came into view shortly after sunrise. Jackhammer had never been happier to see the ugly fucking place. The gate opened before they reached it. Prospects stood on both sides, and patched members were waiting in the parking lot. Word had obviously spread. Jackhammer looked toward the second SUV. Razor was about to have a very bad morning.
Monster pulled into the lot, and Angel woke the second the SUV stopped. She bolted upright. “What?”
Jackhammer grabbed her. “Easy.”
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Clubhouse,” Hammer said. She blinked at him as though trying to process his words, and then she looked around.
Ghost removed his hand from her ankle. “You snore,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood.
Angel turned toward him. “I do not.”
“Like a chainsaw,” Hammer added.
“I hate you both,” she breathed.
“That's not what you said last night,” Ghost said. Her eyes widened, and Jackhammer laughed. Ghost actually smiled.
Angel looked out the window to where Larry sat on the porch. Someone had changed his outfit again. The skeleton now wore a pirate hat. Angel stared at him. “What the hell happened to his cape?”
Monster looked through the windshield. “Goddamn it.”
Jackhammer laughed. “Apparently Larry went rogue.”
“That cape cost me twenty bucks,” Monster spat.
“You paid twenty dollars for a cape for a plastic skeleton?” Hammer asked.
“It was velvet,” Monster defended.
Ghost opened his door and stepped out. “I'm surrounded by idiots.” Angel laughed, and there it was. Jackhammer wanted to bottle that sound and keep it somewhere safe to pull it out whenever shit got too dark.
He climbed out and offered her his hand; she looked at it, and then took it. That was progress. Ghost came around the other side. Bishop exited the second SUV. Angel's hand tightened around Jackhammer's, and Bishop seemed to notice, and he didn't approach. Smart man. Crow was helped out next. Bones had kept him stable during the drive, but the man needed a hospital.
Monster walked over. “Bones.”
“Yeah,” Bones asked.
