“I talked to Echo. He talked to Uncle Karl. It was his call, though. I didn’t ask him to talk to Karl.” Zion spun me to face him. “I can’t fix everything right now so you’ll give us a chance, but I’m not objecting to one less obstacle. Is that okay?”
I nodded. It was, but at the same time I didn’t want to cause trouble—and I certainly didn’t want to come between Zion and his father. I was grateful when a girl came up to get drinks, and even more so when Zion motioned for me to get her order when she was ogling him so blatantly.
“Echo told Uncle Karl not to fire you,” Zion continued when the girl walked away. “He’s likely the one who called Mike away so there was no chance of you being sent home tonight because Uncle Karl was pissed off at me.”
He pulled out a few more beers, obviously knowing people well enough to guess their orders before they spoke.
Finally, Zion grabbed my hand and tugged me into his arms. “Talk to me.”
“Your job is the problem, not mine, not anything else. Uncle Karl is letting me stay at the bar and be with you. I can work around the whole ‘what if we don’t split up and I’m ready to move thing.’ The thing I can’t do . . . that I won’t do . . . is be with a criminal.”
For a moment, he stared at me, studying my expression as if there were words he could find there. Then he asked, “And if I wasn’t? If I didn’t do the things I’ve done before? What then?”
“Zion, we hardly know each other,” I started. “It’s a huge thing to change what you do, who you are . . .”
He caught my chin and tilted my head back so I was looking at him as he asked, “Will you give us a chance to correct that if I’m not doing what I do now?”
I couldn’t speak at first, but that was it, the last objection, the one obstacle that made me cling to the others. “Yes.”
Then, right there in front of anyone who cared to look, he leaned in and kissed me. Not the way he had before, but possessively enough to make me sigh when he pulled away.
“Let me talk to Echo,” Zion said. “I’ll find a way to make it work. You’re worth it. Just give me a little time to sort it out, okay?”
I was grinning so wide that I knew I looked ridiculous, but I couldn’t help it. “Okay.”
“So we’re good, then? We’re really going to do this?”
I grabbed him and kissed him until someone started whistling and someone else called out, “So, I guess that answers the questions, doesn’t it?”
Zion kept an arm around me when he pulled away. “Mine,” he whispered against my lips.
“I guess so.”
“And I’m yours,” he added.
“Good.” I stepped back and smiled. “Now, go . . . do whatever bouncers do.” I shooed him away. “I’m working here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He brushed his lips over mine one more time and then went back to the other side of the bar, leaving me to deal with the townsfolk and bikers in need of cold drinks.
Chapter 20
ZION WAS GRINNING like an idiot when he saw Echo sitting with Skeeter and a man in jeans who obviously had brought concerns of some sort to Echo. A brief flash of amusement crossed Echo’s face, but all he did was raise a brow.
But when Zion started to walk away, Echo stopped him with a word. “Killer.”
Sometimes Zion felt like a two-legged guard dog when he did this, but if Echo was going to tell Zion to heel and stay, so be it. At least now Zion was a hell of a lot better at it than he’d been as a kid. When he’d realized that Echo was his dad, he’d felt like he finally had a real place in the world.
“Let me protect you,” thirteen-year-old Zion told Echo.
“You’re not even wide enough to stop a bullet,” Echo teased. “Skinny little thing with your head in a book half the time. What are you going to do?”
Zion heard the question that Echo was really asking, so that’s what he answered. “Learn.”
“Karl!”
The old man poked his head out of his office.
“The boy wants to learn how to protect me.” Echo stared at Uncle Karl. “See that he does.”
Back then, Zion had worked out until he ached and signed up for every martial art or self-defense option at the community center. He’d learned how to fight, how to fire a gun, how to handle the fear of guns and knives in someone else’s hand. For well over a decade, Zion had lived for his father and, by extension, the club.
Maybe, though, he could learn to do something else. For Aubrey, he wanted to. She made him want to be whatever he needed to be in order to find out if the spark they had was the start of something he’d never thought possible. He’d become what he’d thought he had to in order to earn Echo’s love and trust; now, he wanted to learn to be something more in order to earn Red’s. It wasn’t that he had no interests of his own, but none of them drove him the way his desire for acceptance had. He just hoped he wasn’t about to lose Echo’s affection in order to gain Aubrey’s. Echo had never seemed to want anything more than the Wolves. It made him a little less likely to accept Zion’s request.
Zion stood at his boss’s side and waited for the others to finish their business and leave. Once it was just the two of them, Echo gestured at the chair across from him.
“Bobbie doesn’t seem to age,” Echo said. They watched the band for a few moments. For the first time in years, Zion wasn’t feeling the usual pull to the bluesy singer. She’d found him outside and asked for a ride after the show like usual. It was more of a routine than a question, typically. She asked; he said yes or that he had work to do first. He’d never turned her down before—and she wasn’t particularly pleased that he had tonight.
“Maybe I got older,” Zion said. “I turned Bobbie down. Not even tempted.”
Echo quirked his brow again.
“Aubrey’s willing to give us a shot,” Zion explained.
“I already told Karl that he wasn’t going to fire the girl.” Echo paused when Skeeter’s old lady stopped by with a drink. She didn’t approach, simply stood there waiting to be acknowledged. Zion couldn’t picture Aubrey ever doing that. She didn’t seem offended by the way the bikers’ old ladies acted, but she didn’t try to emulate it either. He couldn’t see her ever wearing a “property of” patch—and that didn’t bother him. This world wasn’t for her.
As Echo motioned the woman in, she smiled, dropped off a drink for each of them, and disappeared. She was happy. Most of the wives or serious girlfriends seemed to be, but that didn’t mean that every woman would want to be a biker’s old lady. Hell, a lot of women didn’t even like the term “old lady”—although those rare women who wore a “property of” patch owned it like it was a crown. He could respect both attitudes, but Aubrey was somewhere between the two types. He’d seen her treat the old ladies with respect, but she was pretty clear that it wasn’t for her.
“What would it take for me to walk away?” he asked Echo.
Echo didn’t stop raising his drink to his lips, but Zion saw the brief shake in his hand. He had held control over the club too long to be truly rattled, but there were moments when Eddie Echo was more human than others. Zion felt guilty for provoking one of them. For the first time in his life, he wanted something—someone—more than he wanted his father’s approval.
They watched the band in silence. The song ended. A second song passed. Finally, Echo said, “How far away?”
“All the way.”
“For her?”
Zion nodded. “I think she might be the one for me, and this life—”
“Our life,” Echo interjected.
Zion nodded. “Our life isn’t for her.”
“She’s asking you to choose?”
There wasn’t a good way to answer that. She wasn’t, not really. She would walk away from him, and she’d been trying to do just that. “No,” he explained. “She’s not comfortable, though. With my job. I said I’d give it up for her.”
“I mean for you to be president,” Echo said. “We haven’t talked abou
t it, but I thought that was clear.”
“I know.”
“And you’d give it all up for a girl?”
Zion glanced over at her. Aubrey was laughing and talking to one of the customers. The crowd had thinned enough that she seemed to be enjoying her job again. That was what he wanted, to see her happy like that. He looked back at Echo. “No, not for a girl. For this girl. She’s different. I’m different with her.”
As was typical when he was thinking something over, Echo resumed his silence. He finished his drink before he spoke again. “We’ll work something out if you’re sure. Take the month to think before you do anything rash.”
“I don’t need—”
“Take the month,” Echo repeated, louder this time. “I still need you, Killer. If you’re going, it’s not today or even next week, but we can work it out if you’re sure.”
Zion reached out and clasped his father’s arm. “Thank you.”
But all Echo did was nod. It was obvious he didn’t approve, but he wasn’t a monster. Later, when the idea settled in on him, Zion could encourage Echo to talk to Dash. He’d been raised in the club too. No one would object to Echo grooming Eli Dash’s son for the role.
Echo and Zion sat in silence for a few moments, a tentative peace between them.
“Skeeter’s old lady found out that there’s a development company quietly buying up property in town,” Echo said. “Mostly old businesses or vacant properties, buying them up cheap.”
Zion shook his head. “And how close are these businesses to Mrs. E.’s house?”
“Close enough that our good sheriff should’ve been asking some questions by now.” Echo’s tone made his disdain for the sheriff clear enough that Zion could almost pity the man. “I need you to go talk to his boy.”
There was a wealth of words never uttered aloud in their world, but sometimes things needed to be clarified. Messing with Quincy Patterson was such a situation, especially on the heels of Zion letting his boss know he wanted out. Ending up in jail was exactly what he didn’t need right now. He’d known it was likely sooner or later, and he’d once accepted that as the price he might have to pay. Right now, though, there was a much higher cost on the line.
“How much talking?”
“You want Maureen—and Aubrey—safe?” Echo pushed to his feet and looked down at Zion. “Find out what Patterson’s involvement is. His kid will know something. I want to know what it is. Do what you think necessary.”
Zion nodded once. Echo didn’t care about the cost, about the risk; all he wanted was the result. That was typical. Echo looked after the big picture, made the decisions. He had people who turned those decisions into reality. Zion had fought and bled for the privilege of being one of them, and until he was no longer a Wolf, he would have to continue doing so.
Once Echo was gone, there was no need for Zion to be anywhere but at the edge of the bar, keeping an eye on Red and helping her out if she ended up in the weeds again. The side benefit of not being at Echo’s beck and call for the night was that Zion could run interference if Bobbie decided to cause trouble. It wasn’t that he doubted Aubrey’s ability to look after herself, but dealing with the temperamental singer when she was unhappy wasn’t anybody’s idea of a good time.
Once he reached the bar, he lifted the flap and went back. Aubrey finished ringing up an order and glanced at him.
“After one month,” he told her.
“Really?”
“He needs me to take a month to consider it.” Zion pulled out a stool at the far end of the bar, back to the wall so he could keep an eye on everyone, and settled in for what he hoped would be a calm night. The worst, at least, was behind him.
Chapter 21
A FEW HOURS LATER, I was near whimpering from the ache in my legs, but I was holding up better than I’d expected—and the tip jars were stuffed. Aside from that first rush when Zion had helped and a fifteen-minute quiet spell where he’d taken over so I could grab a break, I’d managed to serve drinks to the hordes on my own. He’d stayed in reach all night so far, making a point to come back to my side of the bar as the band took a break.
I saw why as soon as I noticed Bobbie swinging her hips like an invitation he very clearly was pretending not to notice.
“I’ve got this,” Zion offered.
I stepped in front of him. “Not your job. Go on.”
He paused, and when I saw the worry in his eyes, I relented a little. In a low voice, I asked, “Do you think I’m going to run because you’re not a blushing virgin?”
He quirked a brow.
“Every day, someone’s told me you can’t seem to figure out how to keep your pants from falling off.” I paused and kissed his cheek. “Relax. Unless you’re planning on having that problem now—”
“Never.”
I nodded. “Well, then, why don’t you pull out another case of Corona and three more of Bud to restock after the band break ends. Unless they swarm, I’ve got this.”
About as subtly as she seemed to do anything, Bobbie watched him walk away. I wanted to be catty. It was a new feeling for me. Possessiveness had never been something that made sense to me, but right now it made more sense than anything else I could think of.
“Jack and Coke,” she said.
Mutely, I poured her drink, generous on the whiskey so she couldn’t complain. I set it in front of her and turned away.
“Barmaid,” she called.
I pasted a friendly smile on my face as I glanced her way and said, “The band’s drinks are comped.” Then I moved on to the next customer. I wasn’t going to stand and engage in conversation with her if I could avoid it—and because of her, the bar was crowded enough that I could.
“Good on you,” Shelly, the woman who had offered advice earlier, said quietly. “If that boy’s yours . . .” She paused and looked at me. Once I nodded, she continued, “You make clear that you aren’t going to put up with shit from any of the ones who were around when he didn’t have an old lady to answer to.”
“I don’t share,” I said.
Shelly laughed, a husky rasp that made me wonder if she had a bluesy singing voice to go with that depth. “None of us do, sweetie. That don’t make bitches like her stop sniffing around.”
I nodded. I didn’t know what else to say. Part of me wanted to point out that I wasn’t really his old lady because he was going to leave the club, but at the same time, I knew that it wasn’t my place to quibble over details or talk about his business. I might not intend to wear a patch literally proclaiming me as “property of,” like Shelly and a lot of the others did, but I’d picked up enough of the rules. I respected her. I respected anyone who chose their path. It wasn’t a fit for me, but the Wolves’ partners had a power that I hadn’t understood before starting here—a power my own grandmother had, whether she wore Echo’s claim on her body or not. I understood that now.
Once the crowd thinned again and Bobbie took the stage, I walked over to the corner of the bar where Zion sat.
The rest of the set was easier—or maybe I was just used to the chaos after a few hours. Either way, the next few hours went well, and then it was last call.
The remaining patrons were starting to drift out while the band tore down. I might not have been very impressed with Bobbie as a person, but I couldn’t deny that the woman had a hell of a voice. Now that they were tearing down, someone had already cued up a bunch of songs on the jukebox. The sounds of the eternally amazing Etta James were filling the bar, adding to my good mood. I’d made more tonight than any other night, and I’d held my own. Even better than that, I was going to actually try dating the man I had all these feelings for. Things were looking up.
At least, they were until I turned around to grab empties from the bar only to find Bobbie standing there. I’d been sending her drinks over with Uncle Karl or one of the bikers since the break. Now she was in front of me, and Zion was not here to dissuade her from being rude.
“Jack and Coke.”
/> Silently, I turned to grab a new bottle of Jack Daniel’s, hoping to avoid actual conversation again, but fate must not have been feeling generous.
When I turned back around to grab a clean glass, she added, “So I guess you’re Killer’s newest flavor of the month.”
With a comfort that came from a good many hours mixing drinks the past few weeks, I poured hers without hesitation and set it in front of her with a tight smile in place. “Your drink.”
Bobbie swirled the icy mix in her glass and took a sip before asking, “You mind if I ask him for a ride home tonight?”
I shrugged. I knew she already had, and I knew what his answer had been. “Ask away.”
“Killer isn’t going to make some wide-eyed child his old lady, you know?” she said conversationally.
“I don’t see how what Zion does is any of your concern,” I said as politely as I was able.
“I’ve been on that ride more times than any other woman,” Bobbie added.
And my temper slipped a little more than I meant for it to. “I’d expect that, at your age, you’ve certainly had plenty of experience. If that’s what he wants, that’s his business.”
The music cut out midway through my reply as the jukebox switched to the next song.
Slowly, Bobbie took another swallow of her drink and then tossed the rest in my face.
I gasped as the liquor and ice trickled down my neck and soaked my shirt. As calmly as I could, I snatched up a bar towel and wiped my face. “Billy? Zion? I need her removed.”
“You okay, shug?” Billy asked me as he approached the bar. He already had Bobbie’s hand caught in a firm grip.
“I’m sure Zion can kiss it away if I’m not,” I said sweetly.
“Fuck you,” Bobbie spat.
“He can manage that too, I suspect.” I smiled at her.
Billy snorted in laughter and scooped her up like she weighed no more than a grocery sack.
Zion was partway across the bar, headed toward me, when Billy added, “Killer, get the door. Miss Bobbie needs some fresh air.”
Undaunted: Knights in Black Leather Page 16