Page 18 of Trip

This wasn’t just a woman who knew her way around cars; she knew her way around a fight too. That much was clear from theway she held herself, like she was ready to swing a wrench if I said another word out of line.

“What’s your deal, huh? Ansel may want you here, but I don’t. You show up here, act like you own the place, and crack crappy jokes like you’re some damn comedian. You’re nothing but a goddamn grease-stained, washed-up nobody!”

I smirked, pushing myself off the car and stepping closer. “You think you know me, huh?”

She didn’t back down, not even an inch. If anything, she leaned in, daring me to keep pushing her buttons.

“I know enough to know I don’t need your help,” she shot back.

And damn if I didn’t admire her fire. She was tough as nails, no nonsense, and completely unapologetic about it. The kind of woman I didn’t meet every day. The kind of woman who could turn heads and set the entire circuit ablaze without even trying.

But I wasn’t about to let her win this round.

Not yet.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I said, giving her one last wink before turning on my heel. “I’ll be outta your hair soon enough. But you might wanna check under that hood again. Something tells me you missed a spot.”

With that, I walked away, leaving her fuming but knowing I’d be back. That woman was just the beginning of what promised to be one hell of a ride.

Throwing my leg over my bike, I reached inside my jacket and pulled out my phone, quickly making a call as I watched C.C. rant and rave at some unsuspecting guy, who smartly nodded and said nothing.

As soon as the call connected, I said, “King, I’ve got a problem.”

“Trip, you’ve been there less than six hours. Gunner can’t even fuck up that fast,” he snarked.

“I fucked the driver.”

“Didn’t know you swung both ways, Trip,” King deadpanned. “But, hey... whatever floats your boat, brother.”

Groaning, I rolled my eyes. “The driver is a woman, jackass.”

“Okay? So you fucked her. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is C.C. DuBois, is Cosette Celine DuBois, the little sister to Jasper DuBois, also known as Romeo, a brother in the Silver Shadows.”

“And Gator’s cousin,” King groaned.

“Yep. That one.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Trip!” the man roared. “Only you can fuck up this badly. Was it a hit it and quit it?”

“I’m not sure,” I muttered, glancing back toward the garage where she stood, arms crossed and eyes blazing, like she was ready to incinerate me on sight. A part of me should’ve felt guilty, but instead, I was grinning like a damn idiot.

“Well, what does she want to do?”

“Hell if I know, King,” I snapped, rubbing the back of my neck. “I just talked to the woman and if myBitch-O-Meteris reading the situation right, I need to step the fuck off. Woman wants my balls hanging from the rear bumper!”

“She can get in line,” my Prez muttered, then groaned. “Trip, you’ve got to clean this up, and fast. I won’t let some piece of ass cause a club war because she can’t keep her legs closed. I don’t give a fuck whose sister she is. And for the love of God, keep your dick in your pants. The rest of us will be flying in tomorrow. In the meantime, stay the hell away from her.”

“That’s going to be hard, King. She’s Ansel’s driver.”

“Find a way. I don’t care what you do, but stay the hell away from her until the rest of us arrive. I mean it.”

“I don’t think I wanna do that, King.”

Silence.

Dead silence.

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