Reaper's Fall
“So she gave me a warning—I’ll have to share that with Torres at my next appointment, I guess.”
“For the best,” Picnic said, frowning. “He’ll probably throw you in jail a couple days for being out of state, but if word filters back that you left Idaho and he didn’t do anything, they’ll start looking at him. We can’t afford that kind of attention.”
“No big.” I shrugged.
“Any questions for Painter?” Pic asked the table at large.
“Was the cop hot?” Horse asked, smirking at me. “Did she give you a full pat-down?”
“Any real questions for Painter? No? Okay, then that’s it for now, unless someone has something else to bring to the table.”
This was it, I realized. Time to talk about Mel. Fuck, they were gonna give me so much shit . . .
“I got something.”
Pic cocked a brow. “Killin’ a guy wasn’t enough for you?”
I shrugged. “It’s been a busy couple of days. Seriously, though—I want to talk about Melanie.”
Silence fell across the table. I looked over to find Duck smiling his big, shit-eating grin at me.
“So, I want her to be my old lady,” I said, watching Pic’s face. If anyone gave me trouble, it’d be him.
“You sure?” Pic asked. “She’s a nice kid, but she doesn’t really know our life. Might be better to give her a little more time first. This is happening fast.”
“But it hasn’t happened fast,” I reminded him. “I’ve known her for more than a year and we wrote letters that whole time. She’s pretty, she’s smart—the whole package. I’m taking her.”
Pic looked around, and I waited for someone to say something.
“I like her, and it’s not like it’s a huge surprise,” said Ruger. “I mean, he did loan her his car for a goddamn year. She pussy-whipped him long distance—that takes talent.”
Horse laughed, and I took a deep breath, wondering how long they were going to drag this out.
“She’ll probably be good for him,” Bolt said more seriously. “You’re smart, Painter, but you’re fuckin’ reckless. You can’t do the club any good back in prison—maybe having an old lady will motivate you to be more careful. Give you something to lose.”
He would know—he’d lost his woman, Maggs, for a while. They were back together now but it hadn’t been easy.
“It’s a good point,” Pic said. “You may see yourself as cannon fodder, but you’re not. Wouldn’t hurt if you were a little more settled. It’s fine with me.”
“Now what, a group hug?” Horse asked, rolling his eyes. “Enjoy your girl, try not to break her. I don’t think you should patch her just yet, though—give her some time to adjust. Get used to all of us. Save both of you a lot of hassle down the road.”
“He’s right,” Pic said. I frowned, not liking where this was going. “It’s probably for the best if you take it slow. Your call, but if you care about her, you’ll give her time to adjust. Any more business?”
Nobody spoke, so he raised his gavel, hitting the table with a sharp whacking noise.
“Fantastic. Let’s get out of here. Loni’s got dinner waiting at home and I’m fuckin’ starved. Not only that, Kit’s staying over at a friend’s place tonight, which means I’ll finally get some time alone with her. Girl’s hardly been home a week, but it feels like a year. Painter?”
“Yeah?” I said.
“I hope you and Mel live happily ever after and all that shit, but don’t have daughters. That goes for all of you—no more daughters in this club. I can’t handle it.”
“She ever going back to Vancouver?” Duck asked. Pic shrugged.
“Dunno,” he admitted. “She says she is, but all of her classes are online this semester. I think there’s shit going on she hasn’t told me about but I’m not gonna push her. She’s been stoppin’ by to see that cowboy a lot—the one the bull tried to kill.”
“What’s the story there?” I asked. “She into him or something?”
“Hell if I know. Doubt even she does. Whatever. At least the guy’s still alive. Now, if you don’t mind, I want out. Loni made dumplings, and if they’re cold by the time I get home I’m shooting one of you. I’ll let you decide who.”
Duck snorted, and that was that.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ONE MONTH LATER
PAINTER: Wanna meet for dinner?
MEL: Sure
PAINTER: My place—I’ll buy if you’ll cook
MEL: So you don’t want to meet for dinner so much as have me cook for you
PAINTER: No—I want to fuck you, too. See? I’m about a lot more than eating
MEL: Complicated guy!
PAINTER: Damned straight. see you at my place
MELANIE
“Painter has never dated anyone longer than a week, let alone a month,” Em said in my ear. I was standing outside his apartment, holding the phone cradled against my shoulder while digging through my purse for the key. “I think he’s really serious about you.”
“He acts serious,” I said. “He even says he loves me, but aside from that one time he’s never mentioned anything about me being his old lady or anything. And he doesn’t tell me where he’s going when he takes off on trips, just says it’s club business, like I should know what that means already.”