Joker (Hell's Ankhor #8) - Aiden Bates Page 0,38

a second.”

“Don’t look so surprised,” Coop said with a laugh. “Course I stepped in. We’ve got your back.”

He nodded at Tex, Jazz, Siren, and Star, too, who apparently had been watching the whole interaction and were ready to step in, if needed.

I was—surprised, honestly. I guessed part of me thought they’d just leave me to fend for myself. I’d been feeling more and more alienated from the club over the last year or so, to the point where I wasn’t sure if they’d help out in situations like this. Maybe they’d think I deserved to learn a lesson, or something. But Nix and Coop had stepped in without me even asking.

Maybe I was still part of the family after all.

“You all right?” Tex asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. I watched as Dawson pulled Nix into an alley—not to fight him, though. Looked more like he was dangerously close to losing his lunch. I cringed, glad we’d gotten him out of the bar when we did. “I’m gonna call Brennan and let him know. See if he wants to come get him.”

“Good idea,” Jazz said. “I’d want to know if I were him.”

“You’re not pissed?” Siren asked.

“Nah,” I admitted with a shrug. “He’s just drunk. I know what it’s like for your mouth to write checks you can’t cash.”

I expected one of the four of them to make a dig agreeing, but no one did. Coop just clapped me on the back and nodded toward the back door. “Take your time, I can handle things in here.” He glanced pointedly around the very empty space. “Obviously.”

I nodded and slipped out the back door onto the small concrete smoking patio behind the building.

Brennan answered after only two rings. “Joker?” he asked. “What’s up?”

Nerves coiled in my chest at the sound of his voice, but a little heat, too. Even over the phone, his voice did things to me, all low and rough. “Hey. I’m at Ballast. Dawson was here.”

A beat. “Was?” Brennan suddenly sounded exhausted. “Was he causing problems?”

“He was about to,” I said. “Had to kick him out.”

“Jesus,” Brennan groaned. “All right, I’ll be right there. Sorry about him.”

“Not your fault,” I said. “And—you don’t need to come get him if you’re busy. Just thought you should know.”

“Thanks,” Brennan said quietly. “Really. He’s… Well. It doesn’t matter. I’ll be there soon.”

He was what, I wondered. Brennan didn’t sound surprised to hear he’d been kicked out. But it wasn’t my place to pry.

We ended the call, and I took a minute outside to catch my breath. And it really was just a few minutes before Brennan arrived—almost exactly twenty, like he’d jumped into his truck as soon as he’d gotten off the call.

As he walked in, I tried not to stare. Tried not to think about the weight of his cock in my mouth. But it was hard not to, when he walked in looking like that: fitted jeans, threadbare old t-shirt, and a bomber jacket slung over his shoulders. He looked like he hadn’t expected to leave his apartment, but somehow, he managed to look casually hot as hell.

“Hey,” he said as I walked out from around the bar. “Is he here?”

Coop shook his head. “Nix just texted. Said he was giving him a ride. Sorry you came all the way out here, Brennan.”

Brennan shrugged. “Not your fault. Sorry he was causing problems—and that Nix had to drive him. I’m the one that should be dealing with that. What was he doing?”

Coop glanced at me.

“Talking shit,” I said with a shrug. “Telling me to stay away from you. Just protective drunk guy bullshit.”

Brennan grimaced. “Jesus. He’s a piece of work.”

“Well, have a beer on the house then, for coming out here,” Coop said. “I insist.”

Coop poured us both a beer, nodding at me, and then we took a seat at one of the small tables in the corner.

“I don’t want to keep you from work,” Brennan said a little awkwardly.

I shrugged and motioned around the bar. “Not a lot going on,” I said. “And Coop’s right, sorry that Nix took Dawson before you got here. That’s not usually protocol.”

Brennan grimaced. “Unfortunately, it’s not the first time he’s caused problems like this. I’m used to being his taxi service. And he shouldn’t have been in our business, anyway. I hope you—” He sighed and rubbed his temples, unsure. “Hope you just ignored him. Whatever he said. He gets crazy when he drinks sometimes.”

“I know the type,” I said. “It’s not a big