Crash (Brazen Bulls MC #1)(80)

“We actually want to ask Dad,” Clara said.

Maureen laughed, and Joanna groaned. “That much? What is it?”

The girls seemed reluctant.

“Look, cookies. Your father is in church. He has a lot going on right now, and the last thing he needs is you double-teaming him with your baby blues and your ‘please, Papa,’ pouts. Tell me what you want.”

Cecily huffed dramatically. “There’s a concert next week. It’s sold out. We were hoping Dad could…talk to somebody and get us some tickets.”

“What concert? Where?”

Clara answered. “Victim Kink. At Cain’s—it’s all ages, Mom. Totally safe.”

Joanna rolled her eyes at that. “I’ll look into it, and I’ll talk to your father. You will both keep your wiles holstered and leave the man alone. Now scoot—or hang around and help us out.”

“We’ll go,” Cecily answered, quickly. “Can I at least take the card? We’re meeting everybody at the Promenade.

Joanna went behind the bar and got her handbag. “You work at a clothes shop. Why wandering around a mall is fun for you, I have no idea.”

She handed a credit card over the bar, and Cecily snatched it. “Thanks, Mom.” With spry little turns that sent their silky manes flying, the sisters headed toward the front door. As they opened it, they called out, in unison, “Bye Mom, Bye Aunt Mo, Bye Willa!”

Slick, who’d been near the door, pinning photographs up on a big corkboard, had watched the girls go, his eyes lingering on the closed door.

“Careful, Slicky,” Joanna teased in a singsong lilt, “I’ll tell their father!”

The prospect returned his attention to his project with all due haste.

When the women picked up their discussion of the party room décor, Willa thought Maureen seemed quieter than before. Nothing she could put her finger on, but something different.



oOo



The men were in their ‘chapel’ for more than two hours. By the time the doors opened and they filed out, Maureen and Joanna had made lists of things they wanted done and contractors that needed to be called, and they’d all cleaned up the paperwork and were in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

Willa had been given a list of painters to call for bids, and she was going furniture shopping with them soon. Apparently, she was to be part of the project.

She was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, when Rad leaned against the jamb. “Ladies, I need Willa,” he said.

“Sure, love.” Maureen waved him off with a wooden spoon, and Rad grabbed Willa’s hand.

“Gotta talk, baby.”

She set the knife on the cutting board, and Kymber, one of the so-called sweetbutts, slid in and took her place like they’d choreographed it.

Rad led her back to a mudroom. The glass in the back door showed a fragment of the patio beyond. She’d never been back there, but she was curious. There was a big metal bull out there; from this vantage, she could see part of one horn.

“What’s up?”

“Made some decisions, and I need you to hear what I’ve got to say.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“We decided that you do need to stay away from home and work for a few days, while we sort shit out.”

After their talk the night before, she’d been expecting that, so it neither surprised nor upset her. “Okay. Where?”

His lopsided smirk wasn’t quite as cocky as usual. It was wary instead. Like he expected her to smack him when he answered, and he was preparing his face.

“Where, Rad?”

“Here.”

“Here?”

Maureen had described the aroma of the party room as ‘jizz, stale beer, and White Shoulders,’ and that was a start. But, perhaps because Willa wasn’t as used to it as they were, she thought Maureen’s description had been overly kind. Add in blood, farts, cigars, weed, and motor oil, and they’d be getting closer. In short, the place stank to high heaven and right back to hell.

“I know, Wills. But there’s no other place as safe as this. Here, there’s always gonna be somebody around, and we’ve got a good security setup.”

She thought of her pretty little house and her pretty little garden. “It’s so gross here.”

It was her only argument, and it was entirely decorative. She’d caused this mess—well, no, Jesse had caused this mess, but she’d made it worse—and she would do what Rad needed her to do to help get the Bulls out of it. She’d have agreed to stay in a hole in the ground if he’d said he needed her to.

The clubhouse was a very slight upgrade from a hole in the ground.

He laughed and slid his arm around her waist. “Upstairs is nicer. There’re bedrooms up there—not fancy, but Mo did her magic on ‘em a couple years back, and the girls keep ‘em clean.”

“What about Ollie? He won’t know what to do with all these people, and he needs a yard, and walks, and—”

“Willa. Everybody’ll follow your lead meetin’ Ollie. Everybody here loves dogs, and nobody’s afraid of pitties. There’s not much grass in back, but there’s enough for him to do his business, and the guys’ll take turns walkin’ him. This neighborhood is like a little town, and the Bulls’re like the mayor. It looks rough around here, I know, but people look out for the ones who belong.” He brushed his fingers over the scratches on her face. “I need you safe and out of trouble. This is where I need you right now.”