Start a War (Saint View Psychos #1)(62)

“Yeah, she wants a drink,” a deep voice said at my back.

I glanced over my shoulder, though I knew exactly who it was.

War grinned down at me. “Hey, baby girl.”

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. I didn’t know what it was about him. Perhaps it was the protective way he’d sat at his mother’s bedside while she was frail and helpless. Or maybe it was just my hormones intercepting the smart thoughts that were probably trying to warn me away from the leather-jacket-wearing, tatted-up, self-confessed bad boy. “Baby girl isn’t a very creative nickname.”

He grinned. “It’s not, is it? I’ll do better. But first, pick your poison. We got a party to have, and you can’t be sober for it.”

“Is that a club rule?”

“Nah, but I can tell you want one. And so do I.” He put his hand on the small of my back and guided me over to the bar. “We aren’t big on wine here. So it’s beer or hard spirits. Scotch, bourbon, vodka, or tequila.”

“Tequila.”

He let out a chuckle. “Okay, okay. I wasn’t expecting that, but good for you.”

The guy behind the bar had already poured War a glass of scotch on ice, but War pushed it to the side. “Make it two. Nobody should do tequila shots alone.”

“I’ll have one as well,” Siren called, sliding off her barstool and strutting over to stand at War’s other side. She put a hand possessively on his arm. “How are you, baby? How’s Fancy doing?”

War moved his hand subtly out of Siren’s grip to pass a shot glass to me, while Ice behind the bar poured another for Siren. “Fancy is my mom,” War explained.

I nodded. “How is she doing? Any change since I was there the other day?”

Siren’s mouth fell open. “You were there? At the hospital?”

I glanced at War, unsure of why that was so shocking. “Um, yes?”

She glared at War. “You said you didn’t want any visitors. Baby, I would have come right up.”

It was pretty clear Siren was marking her territory. That tequila looked better by the second because I didn’t want to be in the middle of their argument. They obviously had history, and I didn’t want to be the cause of any problems. “I was at the hospital for other reasons. I just happened to run into him while I was—”

War cut me off with a glare in Siren’s direction. “I would have called you up if I’d wanted you there. I didn’t. So take the hint.”

Secondhand embarrassment had me cringing. I was so uncomfortable with the whole thing, I searched around for Rebel, ready to shout, “Sandwiches!” even though I would look like a crazy person.

But Siren didn’t seem to take any offense to War’s complete rejection and dismissal. She shrugged, downed her shot, and strode off into the party.

War nudged me, drawing my attention back to him.

“Sorry about that. That was all for your benefit. She likes to try playing alpha dog when Fancy isn’t around.”

“Fancy is normally the alpha dog?”

He nodded. “Alpha bitch, I guess, technically. Pop was the prez, but he was so wrapped around Fancy’s little finger. Totally pussy-whipped.”

I smiled at the image of a big, burly biker, an older version of War, bowing to the commands of the little frail woman I’d seen in the hospital. “He must have loved her a lot.”

“He did. But she loved him too. I almost hope she doesn’t wake up, you know? I don’t want to have to tell her he’s gone.”

“Is there any change in her condition?”

“No. But the doctors tell me that’s a good thing. They thought she’d be dead by now, but she’s hanging on tight, like the hellcat she is.”

I ran a finger along the rim of my shot glass, letting it wobble beneath my touch. “She sounds like a strong woman.”

“She is. Stronger than most men.”

“I hope I get to meet her.” I meant it. God knew I needed more strong women in my life.

He glanced over at me, his eyes warm. “I hope so too. But for tonight, no more talk about my mom. Okay? Surely, we have more interesting things to talk about.”

I smiled. “Deal.”

“Drink first.”

I picked up my tequila shot and tossed it back, wincing when it burned down my throat. “Can I get a beer?” I asked Ice. “Please?”

He pushed one across the bar top while War watched me. “Tequila with a beer chaser. I like you.” He motioned to Ice. “I don’t want to see either of our beers empty for the rest of the night, capiche? And keep the shots coming.” He raised his voice. “That goes for everyone. Queenie, quit cutting people off. We can cry over Prez next week. Tonight, we’re celebrating the fact that Fancy is still with us. And that we’re all still here. Together.”

A cheer went up around the room, and War took my hand, leading me through the crowd to the center where four well-used, brown leather couches faced each other, a short square table in the middle. It was covered by beer bottles and ashtrays, cigarette butts all poking out of them. War’s hand was warm around mine, and butterflies lit up in my stomach, even though I could feel Siren’s scowl and other women’s gazes on me.

One of them was Rebel’s. I caught her eye as War towed me to the seats, and she raised an eyebrow, her gaze flickering to War’s hand around mine. “Well, that’s new. War holding someone’s hand.”