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Damn, she could be quiet when she wanted to. Or maybe he was just distracted by the potential shit storm headed his way.
“All good, darlin’,” Maker said, looking up into eyes the color of dark chocolate.
That dimple flashed at him again.
Fuck, but she was pretty.
Maker stood and reached for his back pocket.
He towered over the girl beside him, but with Gate gone, her nerves settled, and she looked up. And up. Until she met his eyes.
He added two more bills to the one Gate had left, and her eyes bugged.
“You here all the time?” Maker asked.
“Five days a week, yeah,” she said, her eyes jumping from the money to his face.
“Mind if I come back?”
Lizzy swallowed. “Come back for….?” her voice trailed off.
Maker stepped closer, got hit with another punch of strawberries, and spoke low. “To see a pretty girl named after a movie star.”
Lizzy’s eyes went liquid. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Maker leaned over far enough to brush a kiss along her temple. “See you, darlin’,” his voice rumbled in her ear.
Then he strode for the door, and when Lizzy saw the patch on the back of his cut,Charleston, S.C., she sighed, realizing she’d probably never see him again.
*************************
Gate
Gate straddled his bike, boots on the ground, and listened to Brick through the phone.
“That motherfucker!” Brick spat.
“Roll out,” Gate said, steel in his voice. “Talon, Deuce, Tank, and Ryder. Let Nine have point. Stash and Rooster at the compound running intel. You hit the docks. See what the boys are saying. I want that bastard found.”
“We’re on it, Gate,” Brick said and ended the call.
Gate slid his phone into the front pocket of his jeans just in time to see Maker exit the front door of the diner.
The brothers exchanged chin lifts and then went their separate ways, both uncertain what the future would hold and both praying that they survived it.
*************************
Jenna
I plonked myself down in the chair beside Gabby and pasted on my happy face.
Gabby and Layla were already holding down our favorite table on the Wild Wing’s patio with chips, guac, and ‘ritas when I rolled in.
Layla’s eyes hit mine, and then she turned and yelled toward the nearest waitress, “We have an emergency margarita situation!”
Layla turned back to me and took a lick and sip of her drink. “That’s your bullshit happy face,” she said.
Gabby eyed me over the rim of her glass, “Yep, that’s the one she wears at all the faculty meetings.”
