Page 16 of Petty's Crime

Finding nothing to immediately criticise, she instructs, “Well, let’s see inside.”

I bite my tongue to keep back the comment there’s no other immediate option if she doesn’t like it, and follow her up the external stairs that lead to the front door. Taking the right key, I slide it into the lock and turn it.

“Oh.” Again one word which carries so much weight with it.

I defend myself, reminding her, “I only got this place yesterday,” as she goes through the door. Apart from the usual appliances in the kitchen, there’s little more. The boys and I had moved my bed in from the clubhouse, and I brought my desk and chest of drawers along. But basically, that’s all the furniture I’ve got. “I thought you’d prefer to furnish it yourself, rather than me getting stuff that you didn’t like.” In truth, I hadn’t thought that far, but as I speak the words, I think they work.

“Can you afford it?” Turning, she waves her hand at the cut I’d put back on as soon as I’d gotten out of the SUV. “I mean, you hardly have a proper job.”

My jaw clenches but I manage to retort, “I can afford it.”

The apartment is small, but there’s a separate bedroom. It’s that she walks into, sneering at the bed. “This isn’t new. I’m not sleeping on someone else’s mattress.”

“It’s not that old,” I contradict her. “It’s mine. I bought it for my room at the clubhouse.” Not having much need for anything else, I’d spent cash on a decent mattress and frame.

She puts her hands on her hips. “So how many other women have been sleeping on it?”

I tell her the truth. “None.” And there are certainly no notches etched on the bed post to disprove it. I might have brought quite a few to my room for sex, but none have ever stayed the night. What I don’t add is that it’s seen plenty of action.

Which makes me belatedly realise that presumably tonight, I will be sleeping beside the only woman I have ever spent the whole night with. With no other choice, Britney and I will be sharing the same bed. The thought causes my dick to shrink instead of doing the opposite.

She looks into the built-in closet, noticing my clothes already hanging there, but most of the space has been left for hers. Then she checks the drawers and nods approvingly when I’ve only taken up one and left her the rest.

Next, she returns to the kitchen and examines that. If she finds anything there to complain about at least she keeps it to herself.

She leans her hands on the kitchen countertop, and huffs out a breath. Then she straightens and looks around with mock enthusiasm. “Right then. Looks like we’ve got some purchases to make.”

We do indeed. We need a sofa and television at the very least to make this place habitable. Not to mention groceries if we want to eat.

With nothing in the apartment to delay us, we spend the next couple of hours trawling around stores, me flashing my card and her buying the shit that she likes. Obviously, she didn’t believe me about who I’d had in my bed, as a new duvet, pillows, sheets and covers are added to the pile we’ve accumulated.

The furniture will be delivered in the next day or so. The small stuff we can take home. But mindful that the only place to currently sit is the bed, I suggest we eat out and after I’ll take her to spend the evening at the club.

Dinner is the second time we’ve sat at a table together today, but small talk doesn’t come any easier. It seems she’s not much interested in what I’ve been up to while she’s been away, and I don’t ask her about her interment, as I expect she did more or less the same thing every day.

I try to get a conversation started by talking about her intentions. “You need to get a job to satisfy your parole officer?”

“I’m supposed to, yes. But there’s no hurry, is there? Not with you to support me.” She leans over the table. “I liked how you were splashing the cash, honey. You sure I didn’t put you in the red?”

Nowhere close to it, but I’m not telling her that. It’s one thing having a wife again, but now I’m having to get my head around she means for me to support her as well. And as I’ve so recently been reminded, her tastes are expensive.

I rack my brains for some suggestions. “The club part owns a casino, I told you that. Maybe there’s something there for you to do.” I’m thinking of asking Red.

She snorts a laugh then points to herself. “Felon here, remember. Doubt if any casino would take me on.”

There’s a restaurant which we also provide security for, and I know Erika, the owner, had recently complained one of her best waitresses was moving on. That could be an idea. But when I suggest it to her, she looks insulted.

“Me? A waitstaff? Oh, I’m worth much more than that.”

A frown comes to my face. “Well, what are you thinking of doing?”

She laughs again and shakes her head. “I’ve got plenty of time to think about it. I’d like to learn more about Vegas first. Let me get my feet under the table, and then we can talk about me finding a job.” Her eyes narrow as she spies the expression on my face. Her voice softens and hitches as she adds, “I was only just released, Clark. At the moment, I don’t know which way is up. Let me acclimate to the outside world before making any decisions.” I swear the way her bottom lip quivers makes me feel like an ass.

Reaching my hand over the table, I rest it on hers. Although it’s an intimate gesture, I feel no connection between us, and raise it again just as fast. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.” Despite my misgivings about her reappearance in my life, I have to spare a thought for how terrible it must have been having spent so much time locked up. As a freedom-loving biker, I can’t begin to imagine being confined to just four walls, and I’ve known brothers literally go stir-crazy because of it.

Her hmm and tilt of her head away from me doesn’t really show me whether she’s accepted my apology.

We finish the meal much like we began, in awkward silence. Once again, I hand over my card, and exiting the restaurant parking lot point the SUV in the direction of the clubhouse. Immediately I begin regretting my decision to take her there tonight, but what else are we going to do in a mostly unfurnished apartment? In some ways, it’s like ripping a band-aid off. My brothers will have to meet her sooner or later, might as well get it over with now. I’m just anxious how my brothers will take to the woman who bears the title of my wife.

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