Silver Bastard
Page 71

“You’re being a bitch again.”
“Fuck off,” I said, rolling out of bed. I walked toward the bathroom, grabbing clothes as I went. I didn’t need this shit, not from Puck. Not from anyone.
“You’re essentially saying I’m gonna start hitting you, but when I call you on it, I’m the dick?” he asked, his voice hard. “Christ, Becca. Got that head shoved pretty far up your ass. I haven’t done shit to you and I’m getting tired of pointing that out.”
I spun around, opening my mouth to tear into him when it hit me.
Puck was right.
I’d insulted the hell out of him. Again. I closed my mouth and blinked.
“You make a good point,” I finally said slowly. “I’m not ready to make a commitment, but that wasn’t a very nice thing to say, either.”
“I call it like I see it.”
We considered each other, then I shook my head. “I don’t think this is going to work. My life is busy. Crazy. I don’t have the mental energy for a relationship.”
Puck stood and walked toward me, all loose-limbed and predatory. Then he leaned in close, catching my head and whispering in my ear. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. I asked you to a party. I want to show you off because you’re beautiful, and I’m proud that someone like you would put up with someone like me. Is that such a terrible thing for a man to feel about his woman?”
I shivered, because he still smelled like sex. I wanted more.
“All right,” I replied softly. “But only if it’s okay with Teresa. And no crazy shit.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” he said. “You show me respect, I’ll show you respect and we’ll have a good time.”
I reached down and caught his hardening cock in my hand, squeezing it lightly.
“We’ll have a good time,” I agreed, hoping it was true. Worth a shot, and I was sure he could get me out of work. The club was as deeply embedded in valley life as the mine or the union—when they asked a favor, people said yes. Not out of fear. Out of respect.
That was the difference, I realized suddenly. The difference between the club I’d grown up around and this one.
Respect.
Maybe we could work this out after all . . .
“Hey Puck?”
“Yeah, Becs?”
“I’m sorry I blew up at you. It’s not an excuse, but sometimes my temper gets away from me,” I admitted.
“I’m startin’ to figure that out,” he replied. Then he kissed me and I forgot why I’d gotten upset in the first place.
WEDNESDAY MORNING
PUCK
Painter gave me a half hug, thumping my back in greeting. I stepped back, looking him over. The years had treated both of us well, although I couldn’t say the same about prison. It’d made us harder. Also made me appreciate life more. Painter had gone the other direction—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him smile, let alone laugh.
I guess there was the time we took his kid Izzy to the park?
After he landed back inside the state pen, things got worse. At least he’d been in Idaho, so I was able to go see him regularly. He’d served the club in prison and did what he had to. It changed him, though, in a way our time in California didn’t.
One thing hadn’t changed, though. The bond we’d forged in that cell together? Stronger than blood and utterly unbreakable. He was my brother, now and always.
“Good to see you,” I said lightly, as if there weren’t more than six years of history hanging heavy between us.
“Same here,” he replied. The rest of the Reapers were inside the clubhouse already, but we always took a few minutes for ourselves to check in. Went back to prison—never knew where you’d find yourself, so you had to be ready at all times.
“Anything I should know about?” I asked him. He shrugged, his face closed off. Fair enough.
“So you been to the new strip club?” he asked. “I hear that’s what we’re talking about today.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Went last week to check it out. The Callaghans sure aren’t afraid to spend money, are they?”
“We had a few girls jump ship,” he replied. “I’m not too involved, but I guess they’re coming back now. Apparently it isn’t all love and sunshine at the Vegas Belles. We put some people in place, too. Their reports back up your information.”
“Not a huge surprise,” I replied, reaching for my cigarettes. “Fuck. Forgot I quit.”
Painter snorted.
“So, I heard a rumor.”
I bit back a dumbass smile, because I knew where he was going and I felt like one of those idiots we always made fun of when they shuffled off to the visitors’ room to see their girlfriends. But hell, just thinking about Becs made me happy.
“Oh?”
“You got an old lady now?” he said. “That pretty little thing we brought up from Cali? How’d that happen?”
“I guess I just got tired of waiting.”
“Didn’t know you were waiting.”
“Wasn’t entirely sure myself,” I replied. “Now I know. Ever since that night, it’s been there.”
“If you start writing poetry about her, I’ll slit your throat myself.”
“Were you always such a dick?”
“Yes.”
“Funny, don’t remember that part. Guess I was too busy saving your ass.”