hands itching to touch him—just a hand on his shoulder or across the broad width of his back. There was an odd disconnect inside me, like my body wanted touch and connection, but my heart felt like it was too soon. Like I still shouldn’t want anyone but Ankh.
Ankh wouldn’t want me to feel that way, of course. I knew that without a doubt. He’d want me to go out and get laid and be happy. That was always what he prioritized—the happiness of the people he loved. He’d hate to see me like this, lonely and doubting myself. Yet I couldn’t change the way I felt.
So I wasn’t going to do anything about the way I felt about Mal. Regardless of the way I wanted to touch him, the way I wanted to see him shirtless again, the way my clothes fit his body so well, the way I couldn’t get him out of my head—
“Priest!” Blade said a little sharply, in a tone that suggested it wasn’t his first time calling for my attention.
I cringed. “Sorry, uh, what line item are we discussing?”
“We’ve moved on to the potential prospects,” Blade clarified, with his eyebrows raised in such a way that I knew he’d be ragging on me for being distracted later. “You’ve got the information on”—Blade peered at his notes—“Xavier?”
Right, the prospects. As the club had grown, more and more people had expressed interest in joining—which was great, and it meant we got to be a little pickier with who we let in.
“Yeah,” I said. “Xavier approached me at Ballast a few weeks ago, expressing interest in prospecting.”
“Does he hang around Ballast a lot?” Dante asked. “A familiar face?”
“Nope,” I said. “He’s from up north, near Monterey, but looking for a change of scenery.”
“So why us?” Blade asked. “He’s willing to relocate for the club?”
“Not just willing,” I said. “He wants to. He’d heard about the Crew’s reputation for inclusivity, which is why he’s interested in prospecting.”
“What do you mean by that?” Mal asked.
“He’s thirty—”
“Little old for a new prospect,” Dante cut in.
“No age limits,” Mal said firmly. “Could use some prospects with a little more life experience, anyway.”
Dante shrugged in tentative agreement.
“He’s thirty,” I started again, after a grateful nod to Mal. Dealing with whatever I felt for him would be a lot easier if he would stop doing things like that—jumping in and reading my mind. “But he just came out to his family as gay. He’s got a good career at a marketing firm, so he’s not in any immediate danger of being on the streets without our resources, but his family basically disowned him.”
“Shit,” Blade said with a cringe.
“He’s looking for a family,” Mal said knowingly.
“Right,” I said. “Somewhere he can feel supported.”
Dante nodded. “Does he know his way around bikes?”
“Yep,” I said. “Rides a Triumph. Plus, we can probably tap his marketing experience for both Ankhor Works and Brennan’s construction work. Maybe even Joker’s carvings.”
Blade nodded thoughtfully. “All right, and the other two, Mal?”
“Two fresh-faced high school seniors,” Mal said with a grin. “They both took shop class at the local high school and fell in love with engines. One of them fixed up a busted old 1980s Honda as their final project. But they both want to apprentice at Ankhor Works, and with business picking up, it’s always good to have more folks interested in learning that side of the business.”
“Worker bees,” Dante said with a grin. “Can’t say no to that.”
After a little more discussion and clarification of the vetting process—Raven had run background checks on all three and come up clean—we agreed that all three would be welcomed as prospects.
“All right,” Blade said with finality. He closed his laptop with a nod. “That’s it, then. We’ll get the ball rolling on a welcoming party at Ballast next week.”
“Sounds good to me,” Mal said, and Dante and I nodded in agreement.
As the meeting adjourned, some of the odd anxiety over the moment between Mal and me earlier dissipated. Even though I’d been a little distracted, this meeting was proof that we were still able to work together. And after a good night’s sleep, surely whatever went on between us today would just be another memory in the rearview.
It had to be.
5
Mal
Back at the Crew Motel, I hung my leather jacket up in the foyer with a cringe. It was filthy, but I’d deal with the mud on it tomorrow.
Right now, I needed to change back into my own clothes, before one