Page 37 of Callow

“We’ll find ‘em,” I said, shrugging. “We always do.”

As far as I knew, there were no enemies of this club who were just… walking around out there, worry-free.

I mean, there was the one rival club in town. The Vultures. Fallon’s wife, Danny’s, old crew. But while they’d taken a bit of a cut out of our business, they’d been minding their own business since. Likely knowing that going up against a club like ours on our turf with our allies all around wouldn’t be a good move.

But aside from them, we were pretty much on good terms with all the other organizations in the area, from the mob to the loansharks, cartel, and even the independent contract men and women.

So unless someone was trying to break into the area, my money was on them being from out of town.

But until I had orders saying otherwise, it wasn’t my place to try to track it down. I was strictly on guard duty at the clubhouse with Sully and the prospects. The guys who were out there tracking down leads were the ones with deeper ties to the town and other syndicates.

Which meant I just got to hang out in the glass room or walk the grounds, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious.

And it left a fuckuva lot of time to just be with my thoughts.

All of them seemed to circle right back to Sabrina.

I hadn’t had the heart to tell her that, clearly, Daphne had been the one to message me from her phone, then delete the evidence of it. There was no other logical explanation for it.

She’d been dealing with a lot from that kid the past few weeks. I didn’t want to pile on.

Hell, I wanted to send the damn kid a thank-you card or some shit. Because that had been the best date I’d ever been onin my life. Not that most of my interactions with women would be classified as “dates,” but still.

When she’d been able to get some time to herself, to let loose and stop worrying about Daphne and work shit, Sabrina was surprisingly laid-back.

Sully was right about her being wound too tightly, but most of that seemed to surround a job she didn’t love and a daughter who was really testing her parental boundaries. Once she was in an atmosphere where she was free just to be a person, not an employee or mom, she was fun and funny.

The stories of her teenage antics were hilarious as a fellow former teen deviant, but a bit worrisome as an adult who could see all the ways those situations could have gone sideways. And when it was my turn to speak, she sat and listened aptly, asking questions, clearly wanting to get to know me as a person more.

That, I had to admit, was something new.

I spent a lot of time with women. Especially since joining the club. But as often as I’d hung out with some of the regular club girls, had even taken them to bed on more than one occasion, I’d never had one of them sit and try to get to know me.

No one asked me what my favorite childhood movie was—The Sandlot—or the first song I’d ever danced with a girl to—I Wanna Know—or even what adult experience made me look at my parents differently—when loss, fear, and anger had made me understand how his time in the service had turned my father hard.

I’d learned shit about myself through Sabrina’s questions that I’d never known before. It was a new experience for someone who thought they’d seen and done just about everything already.

Maybe it was that depth of connection that had me following her out to her car, had me reaching for her, and pulling her in for that kiss.

Fuck, that kiss.

That was the kind of kiss that warranted its own dramatic, slow-building musical score. Then the camera would pan out as my hands started to roam in decidedly not-appropriate-for-screen places.

I’d been seconds away from doing exactly what I said. Dragging her down an alley and easing the tension that had been building within the both of us.

Just the memory of the way her body practically trembled with the intensity of her need had my cock starting to stiffen right there in the damn common room at the clubhouse.

“Do I want to know what you’re doing?” I asked as Sully came walking out of the garage with spray paint and a measuring tape.

“Picking out the best spot for the hot tub,” he said.

“The one Fallon and Brooks haven’t approved yet?” Nave asked.

“They will. They know they want it too,” he declared with a nod.

“Out of curiosity,” I said, eyeing the bright orange cap on the can of spray paint, “are you planning to use that on the lawn?”

“On Perish’s precious lawn?” Nave added for emphasis.

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