Conley (Heartlands Motorcycle Club #8) - Frankie Love Page 0,11

Jesus. And River mentioned how much he likes dogs last night.”

My cheeks burn as we pull into the shop’s parking lot. “Sorry,” I say feebly. Now it’s River’s turn to glare at me as we get out of the car.

If this morning is any indication as to how the day is going to go, I am off to a terrible start with both the men in my life.

Chapter 7

Conley

Calico is even more gorgeous this morning than she was last night. How that’s possible, I don’t know. But she is. She’s wearing another dress, this one white, a tad shorter than yesterday’s, with a light blue denim jacket. Her eyes sparkle, she has her hair down, loose around her shoulders, and God, she’d look hot on the back of my hog.

And she is in a mood. Well, maybe I put her there, I don’t know. Or maybe she’s anxious about the fact she is carrying thirty guns in the trunk of her car. Fuck. Why in the hell is this sexy woman packing all that heat?

I need to know… but I also don’t want to push her away. Not any further than she already is.

Jackal calls her into the office to go over the parts she needs for the car, and I take a second to show River the puppies.

“They’re beagles,” I say, giving him a grin. “They’re back here, in the store room of the bar.” I take him to the back of the bar where Bulldog, our bouncer, is showing his soft side. He has a puppy in his hand, smiling.

“You fall in love yet?” I ask him. He’s a good guy who’s been through hell.

“I mean, how the hell couldn’t you?” he asks, lifting the dog to show her off.

With the mama, there are four puppies, counting the one Bulldog holds. They are all curled up together in a little nest one of the girls made.

River kneels down and pets one. “Can I hold it?” he asks, looking up at me.

“Course.”

“Where’d you come from?” Bulldog asks River.

“My mom’s car broke down. She’s getting it fixed next door.”

“Came to a good place. That shop is the best in Nevada.”

“Yeah?” River’s eyes lift. “My dad, he has an auto shop too.”

“Where’s that?” I ask.

“Wells City.”

Bulldog and I exchange a look. Wells City is Outlaw territory.

“Who is your dad?” Bulldog asks.

River’s eyes go wide at that. “Uh, my dad is Joe. Yeah, uh, Joe—” His eyes roam around the room, landing on the puppy in his hand. “Joe Beagle.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, one eyebrow raised. “What a coincidence.”

River swallows hard, his head down, eyes on the dog in his hand.

“Hey, Troy,” Jaxon calls. “Can you come out here when you have a sec?”

Bulldog meets my eyes, knowing that something isn’t right. “I’ll chill back here with River, if that’s okay, boss.”

I leave the back room and walk with Jaxon through the bar. “What’s up?”

“The California chapter called. Guess the Outlaws have been fucking with them too. Destroyed their warehouse last night. Set fire to it. Payback for what happened to Gunnar.”

“Was anyone hurt?” I ask.

Jaxon shakes his head. “No. But we need a plan.”

“We’ll call a meeting for this afternoon,” I say. “Fuck, I wanted to avoid a big showdown.”

“I know, boss, but we can’t let them get away with this.”

“Agreed,” I say. “Can you get work out?”

Jaxon nods. “And what are you gonna do?”

I clench my jaw tight. “I have to deal with something else first.”

I leave my office, anger rising inside me. I need answers. And I need them now.

Storming across the parking lot to the garage, I shove open the door. Calico is standing there with Jackal, looking over an invoice.

“Come here,” I growl, my eyes on her. “Now.”

“Where?” She shakes her head.

I grab her hand and pull her across the parking lot. If she came here fucking with me to get information for the Outlaws, I need to know. Now. “Let go of me,” she balks, but I don’t release her. Not until we are in my office with the door locked. Alone.

“You wanna do this nice or dirty, Calico?”

“Do what?” she asks, frantically looking around, as if wanting to leave.

“I thought last night was real special. I opened up to you, didn’t I? I thought we had a connection. But then I realize maybe this was all a setup. A goddamn game.”

“A game? No. I just… you’re not my type.”

“Your type Joe Beagle?”

“I don’t know who that is, but I want to leave,” she says, stepping