me more than a broken heart. This morning, with three little words, I set my foolish heart free.
And I’m more terrified than ever.
Chapter Forty-Three
Rooster
Two Harleys I recognize are neatly backed into spots in front of the diner.
Fuck. Can’t wait for Z to bust my balls for making him wait.
Two hours was overly optimistic. Took more like three to get here.
Still, I stop to check my phone before going inside.
A picture of Shelby staring out the van window flashes on my screen.
Missin’ you already.
Damn. Why the fuck am I up in Allentown instead of following her to Louisville?
The club comes first.
I stroll into the diner. Place doesn’t look quite as bright and shiny as it did on Yelp. My boots make a scraping noise over the chipped, dirty tile. The hostess is pleasant enough, though. She beams up at me. “I bet you’re looking for the two gentlemen in the back. Let me show you to their booth, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Figures the two presidents found a spot far away from anyone else.
I spot Z’s broad shoulders and the top of his Lost Kings top rocker first. Rock’s sitting across from him in the large, red vinyl booth and lifts his chin when he notices me.
“Here ya go.” The waitress hands me a menu. “Holler when you’re ready to order.”
“Thank you.”
Rock slides out and stands, motioning for me to take a seat. Super. Wedged between the two of them with no escape. I awkwardly shift over the seat, grunting when my hand brushes over something sticky.
“Classy joint you located.” Z grins at me.
“You couldn’t get a normal table?” I bitch.
The woman who showed me to the booth returns with a pot of coffee for the three of us.
After she leaves, Z sits back, spreading his arms out. “What are we doing here, bro?”
Rock’s more serious. “Things all right down at Ice’s place?”
“Yeah. It’s quite a setup.” I turn toward Z. “He’s deeper into the porn game than we thought. Has himself a sweet little house set up for his girl to film in. Something we might want to explore.”
“Real estate’s always a wise investment,” Rock says. “It would sure be better than Stella’s hotel schtick.”
Z winces at the mention of his ex’s name.
“I wouldn’t mess with her theme,” I assure Z. “It works for her. But for the other girls, we should consider it.”
“Yeah, whatever you think is best.” Z waves his hand over the table. “That really why you brought us down here, though?”
“No.” I clasp my hands on the table in front of me. “You know they had issues with Vipers?” I turn toward Rock. “Same problem you had. They burned down one of their businesses.”
Rock sits back and nods slowly. “Yeah, that was a while ago. Jersey, right?” He flashes a grim smile at Z. “No Vipers left in NY.”
“Fuckin’ A,” Z mutters.
I lean in again. “Ice says that event triggered a visit from the ATF.”
“No shit.” Z shrugs. “Not shocking, though. Wrath had to put up with an arson investigation.”
“That was contained locally,” Rock says, his tone turning sharper. “Maybe it’s time for you to move on if Virginia’s on ATF’s radar.”
Rock’s not my president, so it’s not an order. More like a strong suggestion. While we haven’t openly discussed it, I’m sure he’s aware I helped Z plant the car bomb that blew the late Senator Kelly sky-high. It’s in all of our interests that my name doesn’t come across the desk of anyone at ATF.
“If their clubhouse is under surveillance, they’ve probably already identified you,” Z says in a flat tone.
“I’m planning to take off and travel with Shelby as soon as I finish up the website for Ice.”
“Good.” Rock sits back.
My gaze skirts to Z. “That’s not what concerned me and why I asked to meet up.”
“Christ,” Rock mutters. “What else?”
I scan the room quickly. Neat rows of Formica tables and empty red vinyl chairs. No lingering waitresses or busboys. We’re still the only ones in this section. “Ice claims he has the ATF problem solved.”
“Fuuuck,” Z groans. “Do we want to hear this?”
“I don’t know. Let’s find out,” I quip before turning serious again.
Rock flicks a quick glance at the ceiling, his mouth twisting like he’s trying to hold back his laughter.
Under the table there’s a soft thump. “Keep thanking Buddha, fucker,” Z grumbles at Rock. He jerks his thumb at me. “I was never this disrespectful.”
“Please,” Rock draws out the word to dismiss Z’s comment. “Go on, Rooster.”