thirsty.
Road closes his eyes, but when he opens them again, they seem to have brightened. “A beer sounds fuckin’ good to me.”
“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” Prez seems relieved there’s going to be no blood spilt in our gym tonight, but he lingers enough to issue a warning. “Just remember, Road. Even if you were at the peak of fitness, you’d not be able to take Swift out.”
Road raises his chin toward him, he doesn’t bluster or try to contradict. “I’ve seen that.”
At least he admits it. Me taking down Stormy so fast made more than one point tonight. I don’t have to give my own warning. Not that I mind taking a man down. I’m used to men thinking they have to challenge my skills and ability, without accepting the evidence of their own eyes telling them they haven’t got a chance. Road’s casual acceptance scores well in my book.
Getting to know each other works both ways, him the club, and us him. We’ll be dancing cautiously around each other for a while yet.
Unlike Stormy, when I’m given a direct instruction, whether I like it or not, if my initial protests fall on deaf ears, I straighten my shoulders and get on with it. I’m partnered with Road, he likes it as little as I do, but we won’t move forward unless I make an effort to be friendly.
“Your leg hurting?” I ask, as I lead him back through the corridors and then to the elevator that will take us to the first—second, must remember I’m in the US now—floor and up to our clubroom.
“Some,” he agrees as I push the call button. He looks around. “This is unlike any clubhouse I’ve ever seen.”
“We like it this way,” I tell him. “Purpose-built a few years ago. Before my time.”
“Where do the brothers live?”
“On the top floor,” I tell him. “Some have places in town.” I do myself, but he doesn’t need that information. “But there are rooms for all to bunk down here, and some brothers live here permanently.”
The elevator arrives and we step inside. I’ve gotten so used to it, I don’t hear the music that’s playing softly in the background—the type you’d hear at any mall. Road’s brow furrows when he glances up at the speaker, but he doesn’t query it. I’m presuming he’s clocking it up as just one more of our oddities.
When the elevator jerks to a halt, the mechanical voice announces we’ve arrived and the doors open. I watch Road’s reaction.
His lips start to curve, his cheek muscles pull in and then his expression becomes a full smile. It completely changes his face.
“Feel more at home?” I grin, it’s obvious he does.
“Sure do.” He takes a step forward, leaning heavily on his stick, his eyes still taking in the room. There’s a bar along one side, tables and chairs scattered around, a pool table, a dart board, and a couple of gaming machines.
“Why don’t you sit? I’ll go get us some beers.” I point to an empty table.
For a brief moment I think he’s going to protest, but he fights to push down the manly side of him that wants to insist he be the one who gets the drinks. It’s an attitude I’m well used to. Being as, if not more, capable than most men, I tend to ignore it. That he doesn’t insist is a suggestion his leg must be paining him, I think, as he goes and sits at the table I pointed out. I watch him for a moment as he limps, favouring his busted leg. That ride from Tucson had to be long and draining, however many stops he put in.
“He sticking around?” Rascal asks as I near the bar. He jerks his head toward Road in case I hadn’t known who he meant.
I pause to hold two fingers up to Igor and then answer the question. “For now.”
“I can’t see him staying.” Honor shakes his head. “He’s got too much loyalty to his chapter.”
“Then we’ll help him get back home.” Rascal moves his finger in a cutting motion across his throat.
Can a man’s loyalty be changed, I muse, as the prospect pops the top off two beers. If it can’t, Rascal’s right and Road might end up six feet under. I’m starting to hope it doesn’t come to that. It’s one thing to take a man out when you know nothing about him, but what if I find I like him? Worse, become friends with the