Wingman [Woman]
Page 35

“Tell us what you saw,” Cade says, dropping himself down onto my couch.
I fumble my fingers together, but Reign reaches over and takes my hand.
“There was a biker dude standing out the front of her house this afternoon. When I spoke to him, he refused to answer me. He just walked off,” I mutter. “After he flipped me the bird. Jackass.”
Spike snorts and I lift my head, realizing I said that out loud.
“Anyway,” I say, flushing. “I saw on the back of his jacket, he had a patch that said Wings MC.”
Jackson’s eyes narrow and he turns to Cade. “You heard of them?”
“Nah, new to me.”
“I have,” the red-haired man says. “They’re a smaller chapter south of here. I forget which town they claimed.”
Cade nods. “Obviously he’s been hired by someone to take out your friend; the problem is finding out who.”
“She said it was a man she put in jail years ago, because she told on him for something. She was sketchy on the details.”
Jackson turns to the guys. “Muff,” he says to the red-haired man, but he can’t get anymore before I snort loudly.
They all turn to me. “I’m so sorry,” I say, fighting back a giggle. “Did he just call you Muff?”
Muff grins. “He most certainly did.”
I release my giggle and press a hand to my mouth. “Oh God, that’s fucking hilarious. You’re named after a vagina.”
Muff snorts, Spike roars with laughter and I even see Reign crack a smile.
“Why don’t you ask him how he got that name sometime, love?” Jackson says, winking at me.
“I don’t even want to know.”
Cade claps his hands. “Back to it.”
“Right,” Jackson continues. “Muff, you find out about this MC club, see if you can get any information. Spike, you and Cade see if you can find out anything on her friend.”
“What’s her full name?” Spike asks.
“Autumn Leigh,” I say. “I have her keys. Maybe you can find something in her house.”
Spike nods, exposing his palm. I rush into the kitchen to get Autumn’s spare key. I hand it to him and he tucks it into his pocket.
“Right,” Jackson says. “We’ll see what we can find out.”
“I appreciate it,” I whisper, giving him a weak smile.
He gives me one back, only his is broad and stunning.
“Later.”
All of them nod at me and disappear out the door. A moment later I hear the loud rumbling of Harley pipes as they speed off down the road. Before I can turn, Reign is behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his lips to my ear. “She’s going to be okay. We’ll do anything we can to make sure of it.”
I nod, leaning back into him. “Thank you for calling them.”
He presses a kiss to my neck and I close my eyes, shivering with delight.
“All I’ve been able to think about today is your sweet cunt, and how good it tasted.”
I bite my lip as his hands slide under my shirt and over my breasts.
Then, as if my day couldn’t get any worse, his phone rings, loud and annoying, cutting my sex drive in half. He makes a grunting sound and pulls back. I turn just in time to see Slutena’s name flashing on the screen. Great. He gives me a look, before lifting it and pressing it to his ear.
“Selena.”
He’s silent a moment, his face falling.
“I’ll be right there.”
He ends the call and turns to me. “I gotta go.”
My heart sinks. It falls to the floor and shatters into a million pieces.
“Oh, okay,” I manage.
Reign cups my cheek, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I’m sorry, I’ll call you later.”
He lets go of me and walks towards the door. I don’t move, I just watch him leave with a sad expression on my face. He turns to look back at me before stepping out, and his jaw grows tight.
“Don’t look at me like that, Tia.”
I turn away and disappear down the hall.
It’s in that exact moment that I realize I’ve fallen in love with Reign Braxton.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
What can I say about my mom and dad. They’re crazy, loveable, and the reason I am the way I am. I love them to bits—but there are only so many hours I can spend with them before wanting to rip my own hair out. Today is one of those days. They’ve only been here four hours, and already my mother is starting with the lectures.
“Why aren’t you dating?”
“Why haven’t you got a decent job?”
“Why do you keep going for the wrong men?”
So I sit, legs crossed on my couch, pretending to be listening when really, I’m not. When she’s finished, I will smile and assure her I’m trying and then quickly change the subject. My dad is reading a newspaper at the table, rolling his eyes every so often at my mother’s whining. Go Dad.
“I think you should get a job at a real accounting firm,” she says.
I sigh loudly. “Mother, it is a real firm, I just do it from home.”
“How are you supposed to socialize when you’re not out in the public eye?”
I raise my brows at her. “It’s called clubs, bars and strip joints.”
My father chuckles.
“It’s not funny,” Mom snaps, pursing her round lips.
My mother looks a whole lot like me. Tall, long blond hair, pretty eyes . . . You wouldn’t be able guess my mom’s age, not with the amount of make-up she wears, or the designer brands of shoes and clothes. The only thing I seemed to get from my father was my olive skin-tone.