up,” she muttered. “He’s former military so don’t be a smart ass.”
“Or what?”
“Or he’ll break your nose.”
Oh, this was going to be good. Because we needed more hardheads around this place.
Fern knocked and a few minutes later, a good-looking, older black man wearing plaid pajama pants and a gray T-shirt answered the door.
We got a lot of soldiers in the club. Guys who came back from the Middle East, looking for the kind of brotherhood they had in the army or whatever. A lot of them with PTSD and shit, and we exploited the fuck out of that. Violent guys with no boundaries were good soldiers for us, and we told ourselves we were watching out for them.
And we believed that because we were selfish. And small.
But the guy opening the door to us, he was different. He had the kind of military bearing that pushed the walls out of the room. You did not fuck with this guy.
Which of course made me want to fuck with him. An instinct I squashed because I did need his help.
And crap! I recognized him. He was the guy from the pool deck. The one who recognized my tattoos. Who looked at me with such disapproval.
That was probably going to complicate things.
Former military, computer man Eric was six feet tall and built like a stone wall with an equally stony expressionless face, but one look at Fern and the man was all smiles. And Fern, the battle-ax, was blushing.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Hello, Fern,” he said, in a low, smooth voice that was full of a certain kind of appreciation. I could practically see Fern’s panties fall to her ankles.
“Eric,” she said and that was it. Just Eric. And she might be blushing, but she wasn’t smiling. Wow. Aunt Fern had no game.
“You come bearing gifts,” he said giving me some side-eye.
“Muffins,” Fern said, holding out the Tupperware. “The pumpkin ones you like.”
“Pumpkin muffins and this guy.”
“I’m Max,” I said.
“Yeah, I saw you at the pool yesterday.” His eyes read all of my tattoos, the ones visible under the sleeves of my shirt and what was tattooed on my hands.
And dude was not impressed.
“He needs your help,” Fern said.
He shook his head. “I’m not in the business of helping criminal bikers. Not even for you, Fern.”
I let out a long, slow breath. Controlling myself in the face of insults wasn’t something I was used to. No, I was used to breaking bottles over the heads of guys who talked to me like that.
And Eric eyed me like he knew that about me, and he was waiting for me to take a swing. Like he wanted me to take a swing.
Old or not, Eric had some stones.
“It’s for my niece,” Fern said into the sizzling air between us.
Eric looked over at Fern for a moment and I could see him wavering. Whatever he felt for Fern was significant enough for him to consider helping a criminal biker.
“The one who’s here on her honeymoon?” He looked over at me. “With you?”
“Yes,” Fern said.
He seemed to be wavering a little more. “What do you need?” he asked.
“I need you to put a spyware app or a tracking feature on her phone,” I said.
Eric held up his hand. “Yeah, I want no part of that. Thanks, Fern, for the muffins.” Eric just about shut the door on us but I got my foot in the way and Eric did not like that.
Fern swore under her breath.
“You want to be moving that foot, son, before I break it off at the ankle.”
It was a well-worn path between me and forcing myself inside. Doing something stupid, hurting Eric. Probably getting hurt worse in return. I had a past full of those stupid decisions.
Do the opposite, I reminded myself. Work backward from what you know.
I thought of what Dylan would do. Dylan, who couldn’t lie for shit, and somehow managed to have a crew of people around him who would give him everything they had if he needed it.
I had to believe that being honest was part of that.
“Me and Joan, we’re not married,” I said. Fern made a strangled gasping sound in her throat.
“You lied?” Eric asked Fern, and I could see this was some kind of deal breaker between the two of them.
“She didn’t have a choice,” I said. “Not…really.”
“Yeah? Why is that?”
“Because she’s just trying to keep Joan safe. And Joan can make that real hard to do. I don’t know if you have family—”
“I do.”
“Then maybe you