Vince knew something was going to ruin the moment. He didn’t have a lot of problems with women, but one thing was true of all of them. They couldn’t leave things alone. They wanted answers, so they poked and prodded until they pissed off the bull, and the bull went raging through the china shop, shattering the peace.
“Vince?” she asked again.
Heaving a sigh as he rolled to a seated position, he told her, “I had some club business. Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry about it?” she repeated. Great, she was irritated again. Here it came. “You run off, saying you have obligations, and we miss each other all day. Then you show up at my door, and you screw me like a dying man on his last ride. But you tell me not to worry about it? Dammit, Vince, this club has you by the balls, and they’re yanking you away from the things you take pleasure in.”
That was rich. “Well, the club’s been there for me for a long time, and I’m obligated, just like I said. I can’t help it if other people want to come along and take control of my balls, insisting that I’m making a mistake by being loyal to my family.” He stood, closing his fly and pulling his shirt down. “And they are my family. I don’t have anyone else.”
He heard her smack her hand against the bed behind him. “I just wish we could make this work out in a way that each of us could be there when the other needs it.”
He rounded, glowering at her through the darkness. “I suppose I’m the only one who felt relieved. At least, until you started this little tiff.”
“No, but…” She trailed off, and Vince hoped she didn’t pick the conversation back up. He should have known better. He strode out of the bedroom toward her small kitchenette, looking for a glass and a drink of water, and she trailed behind him, attempting to pull her pants back on as she went. “I needed you earlier, Vince. I don’t want to have to wait for what I need until the damn club says you’re free to leave.”
“Is that how you think it works?” He was sweltering, which only fueled his anger, and he realized he’d never taken his jacket off as he finally found a glass and filled it with water from the tap. He guzzled half of it before he spoke again. “I have the freedom to go where I please, when I please. No one tells me what to do. Not you, and certainly not the Claws. Anything I do with them is my choice.”
“Then tell me why you’re so worked up tonight. Where did you choose to go? What did you have to go that made you so furious you nearly broke both of us in that bedroom?”
He finished the water and thumped the glass on the counter. Glaring at Ariana, Vince asked, “Do you really want to know? Because I thought we agreed it was better not to mix business with pleasure. You don’t approve of my line of work, so I wouldn’t think you’d want all the gory details.”
They stared at each other, a game of chicken, and it was Ariana who looked away first. “Just tell me if it was dangerous.”
He scoffed. “It depends on what you consider dangerous. I think the way you drive is dangerous.”
“Don’t be snarky, Vince. I’m serious right now.”
That was another thing. Women were serious far too often. “It was a little hairy, but I’m smart enough and experienced enough to know how to handle things like this. You, on the other hand, are wholly unprepared to hear the details of tonight’s little business meeting.” Watch yourself, she’ll freak out if you even hint at guns or illegal activities.
She dropped onto the couch and crossed her arms, and Vince stood there, leaning on the counter, and wondered if this was going to blow over or if he should get out before she started hurling heavy objects at his head. After a long silence, she spoke in a small voice. “How do I know that, one day, you just won’t come back?”
Vince squeezed his eyes shut. This was not a conversation he wanted to have tonight. It hit too close to home and called up the image of the gun pointed at him a couple of hours ago. “I’ve always come back. And my business isn’t as bad as you probably think. We don’t run drugs, and we don’t sell guns. We haven’t lost a guy to anything but natural causes as long as I’ve been with the club. But I’m guessing you get all your ideas about motorcycle clubs from documentaries on Hell’s Angels and other crocks of shit.”
She didn’t answer, and when Vince came around the counter to see her expression, her cheeks were red with embarrassment. He laughed. “That’s what I thought.”
Ariana closed her eyes and shook her head. Vince saw the fight go out of her and he let go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes still closed. “I just got some really bad news today, and it’s made me think about how easy it is to lose someone that… ” She didn’t finish, but she gazed up at him and met his eyes. “Someone that you might actually give a shit about.”
Vince could think of about a thousand things he would have imagined coming out of her mouth, but nowhere on that list had those words appeared. “What happened to you today? You almost fainted reading a text, and now you’re talking about mortality and losing people.”
Ariana leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “My father’s dying. We don’t get along. I don’t really get along with any of my family, or I would be at the hospital with him right now.”
Something in Vince’s gut wrenched. He hadn’t been a big fan of his own father, but it had still hurt to lose him. “I’m sorry, Ariana. How long does he have?”
“I don’t know.” There were tears in her voice, and she sniffed, obviously not wanting to cry. “He’s got a disease and needs chemo, which he can’t have without a liver transplant. But he can’t get a liver transplant because he’s an alcoholic, and he won’t even take one from family. So, days, maybe? Weeks? I don’t know. He’s in bad shape.”