Have Gun, Will Travel (The Bare Bones MC #5)(42)
“Cassie,” Bee mumbled as though drugged.
“Excuse me?”
Bee stirred, struggling to sit up. She looked at the PROPERTY patch as though she’d never seen one before. “Cassie Hasselbeck, the sweetbutt who was first maimed. She likes you, and she’s fascinated by geology. She knows about agate bookends and amethyst towers.”
Sax chuckled, stroking Bee’s hair. Some people thought that’s all there was to gemology—pyrite samples, amethyst geodes, bears carved from obsidian. “Does she, now? But she’s got her life in Flagstaff.”
Bee snorted. “Some life. Now that she’s maimed, which brother is going to want her for his old lady? She’s history, Zane. Wait.” She sat up straighter and turned to face him. “Why are you handing me this patch? Why are you telling me about your rock shop?”
Sax speared his fingers through her hair. He hadn’t exactly made up his mind about the Box of Rocks until this very second. He had trusted sellers all over the states and Canada, South America. He could trust their shipments, or they could send a rep to Pure and Easy to show him the latest batch. Suddenly, he was done with the nomad life. He couldn’t be a voting member of the Flagstaff chapter as long as Leo was around. Leo wouldn’t allow it. But he could still rock the nomad patch, live in his home in Kachina Village, and work in Pure and Easy.
Still, he couldn’t believe his own ears. These words coming out of his mouth were foreign and strange. “I’m getting sort of sick of travelling. It’s not a romantic life, Bee. Same old hotels day in, day out.”
She touched the tip of his nose. Her tone was light. “The beds of subs.”
“The beds of subs,” he admitted. “But mostly generic hotel rooms. It’s not all fun and games on the road. Most of it’s work. I can do that work here. P and E’s a booming tourist town with all the vortexes and hippies and woo-woo junk. Anyway. You’d do me the honor of wearing this patch. Only you have nothing to attach it to right at the moment.”
Her face was open and full of happiness when she looked back at the patch, then up at him. “I think I would like to accept this patch.”
He had no choice but to kiss her then, a strange sensation filling his chest. Bee brought to him an odd feeling he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was…security, a sense of domestic bliss. Her faith in him was growing like a flower, inspiring him to change his life. Maybe she had lost all faith in her religion—he still didn’t know what had happened to her—but he saw a different type of faith blooming in her now. Maybe she needed something worldly to believe in for her hope to flourish again. Sax would be glad to be part of her newfound hope. He’d never been anyone’s rock before. Being wanted and needed would encourage him to stick around, maybe.
The doorknob rattled and people pounded on the heavy metal, making it sound like they were in an echoing jail cell. “Open up in there!” It sounded like Wolf Glaser and a few other guys. “You can’t just hog the game room, you know!”
“Yeah!” yelled someone else, maybe Bobo Segrist, former Prospect. “We don’t care if you’re banging Taylor Swift in there—we need to bet on a game of pool!”
Sighing, Sax got to his feet, putting his cock away with regrets. “Keep your pants on!” He helped Bee to her feet. It took longer to find the pieces of her clothing he’d tossed without care. When put back together, she looked tousled, with that just-f*cked look. Sax tucked the patch into the top pocket of her plaid shirt, and she looked pleased and coy.
When he opened the door, about five brothers piled in.
“Oh, hey,” said Wolf, eager to grab the best pool stick, the one that wasn’t cracked or warped. “You should know. Baron Funkhauser was just arrested at The Drawing Room. Hey, hey, *! That stick’s got my name on it!”
Wolf tried to make a desperate getaway, but Sax had a handful of his leather cut in his fist. “Not so fast, Sergeant Sphincter of the Dirt Patrol.”
The humorous name apparently gave Wolf Glaser pause for thought, and he stopped straining so hard to release himself. “What? What?”
“Now it’s Funkhauser being carted off? What was the charge?”
When he released the Prospect, Wolf smoothed out his cut. “Sock Monkey was the only one at The Drawing Board when the feds came, guys from the ATF. Of course Sock Monkey tried to stop them, but they said they had a warrant, a RICO indictment just like with Panhead. They gave him a copy of some paper, and shoved Funkhauser into an unmarked vehicle, you know, one of those armored SUVs.”
Sax jammed his hands onto his hips. “What the f*ck? And no one’s concerned about this? Leo’s downstairs slapping chicks on the ass like nothing happened?”
“Well, I wouldn’t know about ‘like nothing happened.’ Leo seems like he’d slap chicks’ asses if the hangar was falling down around him.”
“Yeah,” fumed Sax, “and with his wife standing right there watching. Listen, keep an eye on Bee, would you? I know we’ve got guards and I’m not worried, but just don’t let her out of your sight. Grab an old lady if she wants to go to the can.” Hurriedly, he kissed Bee’s forehead. “You all right with Wolf?”
“Yes,” she slurred, still under the influence. “Wolf’s a doll.”