I let Tabby go and informed him, “We’ve got a situation.”
His angry eyes cut to me and he asked, “No shit?”
Hmm.
Maybe not a badass-in-training. Maybe just a badass.
Seriously, he was even more hot pissed.
“Did you call Tack?” he asked.
“No!” Tabby cried as Roscoe came jogging up to us and Shy’s eyes sliced back to her.
“Fuck me,” Roscoe muttered, getting a look at Tabby.
“We’re handling this ourselves,” I told Shy and he looked back at me.
“You’re handling what?” Tabby asked.
“This,” I answered, looking back at her.
“What?” she asked louder, she was losing it and probably part of her losing it was the sound of another Harley approaching.
So I dipped my face to hers and said softly but firmly, “A man does not take a hand to a woman. A man does not get involved with a girl. And a man definitely does not take a hand to a girl he should never have been involved with. That is what we’re handling.”
“Tyra –” she started.
I cut her off. “Get in the car.”
“Tyra!” she cried.
“Honey, please, get… in… the car.”
She held my eyes and I held hers right back.
“I didn’t want a big deal made of this,” she whispered.
“Too late and, incidentally, it wasn’t you making this a big deal.”
“No,” she was still whispering, looking like she’d been betrayed by her best friend, “it was you.”
Shot straight to the heart.
“Tab, honey, it was him,” I informed her.
“It was you,” she whispered then dropped her head, looked at her feet and walked to the car.
Okay, well, that didn’t go great.
Whatever.
I’d deal with Tabby later. Time to get this done.
I looked at the boys which now included Tug.
“We knock on the door, you take my back, I’m lead,” I gave them the plan.
“You are f**kin’ not,” Shy replied, immediately screwing with my plan.