Rush (Carolina Bad Boys, #5)(76)

And the dudes had plenty to say about upward mobility and sugar momma and jumped on a good thing right quick.

Jealous assholes.

Shy was finally in her prosthetics again just in time for the mega-party to announce the beginning of our new life and my brand new business.

Everything was sweet.

Shy was sweeter.

And a little dirtier, thanks to my bad influence.

Still hadn’t fucked in public, though.

For my opening, Shy took the same care as usual with her appearance, but this time she dirtied herself up a little. The wig had gone bye-bye now that her hair was longer. The curls looser ringlets I loved to wrap around my fingers. For the event, she’d darkened her eyes somehow, put on deep red shiny lipstick, wore tight black jeans and some biker-bitch boots I’d bought her.

In one word?

Hot.

By the time we arrived at the brewery to check final details for the kickass premiere party, the MC dudes and their women filled the parking lot, revving their engines and hitting their horns when we rolled up.

Yeah, we’d gone with the location near the Wando River. We refused to let Diablo’s dark shadow hang over our future.

That fuck and his gang of cunts were behind bars.

Retribrewtion was ready for public consumption in part bankrolled by the Bank of Retribution, AKA Boomer Steele, for a minor five percent share and the option to buy him out.

I wouldn’t accept a single dime from Shy.

I already owed her everything.

I hung my brain bucket on the handlebar of my ride and helped Shy off.

Folks went hog wild with shouts splintering the air when we rolled back the huge metal double doors, turning to welcome friends, family, and complete strangers inside where the yeast fermented, huge vats of my special IPAs brewed, and the filled bottles came off the line.

The space goddamn sparkled—so clean it looked like Cole and Kinkaid had taken on Probie duty at the brewery.

They wished.

I’d hired a skeleton crew to start out, but if I started earning bank I was ready to expand.

Hundreds of people entered the massive brewery where everything happened. My head started spinning, and I hadn’t even had a drink yet. Shy and I accepted hugs and congrats and back slaps and fist bumps from everyone who’d shown, whether we knew them or not.

It was easy to pick out those considered our family, though. Brodie with Ashe, Cara, and baby Roxy carried in Brodie’s arms—wearing her own specially ordered Retribrewtion onesie. Boomer and his wife, Rayce. Kinkaid and Sadie. Tucker, on the hunt for the beers. Doc Ronnie showed with Bo, and Nicky Loveland happily escorted Cat and little Danny. Josh Stone with his small family attended along with his garage crew.

Fuck.

I’d never seen so many people in one place before.

I almost went total pussy and started shedding tears.

“You okay, Max?” Shy stroked her fingers down my arm.

“A little overwhelmed.”

“Get used to it,” she whispered against my ear. “There’s a lot more to come.”

I hugged her around the waist. “Only if you’re by my side, babe.”

“No place else I’m going to be.”

We welcomed Coletrane, who—unbelievably—had hooked up with one Sinclair Chatham, the woman both Shy and I had grown up with. The vivacious blonde looked somehow perfect on his arm.

And Hunter turned up with JB. Baby fever had caught fire in the MC. She was the next one expecting.

Thomas and Justine Lockhart appeared, and they had nothing but smiles for Shy and me.

“Proud of you for getting this off the ground, Max.” Thomas shook my hand.

“Of course we are.” Justine hugged me softly. “Now, where are the refreshments?”

I’d laugh my ass off if Shy’s parents got totally soused today.

Folks from Shy’s shop swooped in, a ton of her customers I even recognized.

The noise volume rose—people hitting the complementary drinks, kids racing around, the brewery operational and working full steam ahead.

Tail swaggered in, for once without a honey—or the usual two or three—on his arm.

“Flying solo?” I asked, knuckle bumping him.

“Keeping all options open, my man.” He grabbed me around the neck. “This is fucking mega, Handsome.”

“Yeah. All right. Don’t go getting all emo on me.”

He snorted. “I don’t do emo for anyone.” He bowed at the waist after he turned to Shy. “Except maybe for your lady here.”

“Okay. Now you better move it along, bud.”

He ambled inside, chuckling loudly.

Asshole.

Shy bit her lip, blushing.

I scowled at her. “Just you remember what I said about flirting with Tail, woman.”

“Woman?” Her eyebrows arched.

I snaked her to me for a long, smoldering kiss.

When she drew back, she fanned her cheeks. “What was I saying again?”

“Back up, bitches. Frankie’s here.”

I tore my eyes off Shy long enough to watch Frankie Burelli strut up to us—loud, brash, gay, and proud about it.

Shy almost launched herself into his arms.

They were new best buddies.

“Did you hook up with that guy at Sinclair’s office? Preston?” she asked the huge Italian heartthrob.