Page 64 of Powerless
“Yeah, man. I got it.”
“So what the hell are you waiting for?” I snarled when he just kept fucking standing there.
“Shadow turned in early tonight. He’s probably already asleep.”
“Then wake his ass up.”
“And get thrown across the room like a rag doll? No thanks,” he huffed. “I’ll talk to him in the morning.”
“See that you do.” I headed for the door. “I want two apologies—one to me, for having my woman without permission, and one directly to Mari—”
“Reap, dude,” Jandro gave me a pleading look. “You know how he is—”
“—for upsetting the woman who saved all your lives.” I opened the door. “That’ll be all, Jandro.”
I left him there, heading back to the patio where a card game, a drink, and a fat cigar waited for me. Sure, I knew exactly how Shadow was and tolerated it up until now. He was a loyal soldier and a damn good assassin. He didn’t have to morph into a chatty Cathy but shit had to change from here on out. He needed to know Mariposa wasn’t some whore to paw at. Hell, every Steel Demon needed to know it, but he especially needed it drummed through that thick skull.
She deserved to walk among us feeling safe and respected.
Because she was mine.
Twenty-Three
JANDRO
“Chela, Perdita, Letty, Foghorn,” I sighed, tugging on the string I just tied to make sure it was secure. “I swear you guys are the only onesnotbeing a pain in my ass lately.”
The girls just clucked as they pecked at the head of cabbage I strung up for them as a treat. Foghorn was chilling by the workout bench, nice and quiet after crowing at all ungodly hours of the night. That made my next-door neighbor, Big G and his family, less than thrilled. But I begrudgingly got them on board with my new pets after promising fresh eggs once the girls started laying.
Truthfully, though, with Reaper breathing down my neck about what Shadow did, Mariposa forgetting my existence since her man was back, piles of fucked up bikes in my shop, andstilldealing with a betrayer in our club, hanging out with chickens seemed like a fine idea.
I watched them peck at the head of cabbage while enjoying my coffee in a deck chair. Foghorn decided to see what his ladies were fussing about and walked over with his dinosaur-like gait.
I sighed. If only sharing food was the biggest of my problems. I didn't expect it to nag at me so much that Mari and Reaper got back together so quickly. We all feared the worst for him, and I could only imagine how he felt leaving his woman in the midst of a battle.
My heart didn't hurt. It didn't even sting, really. I just missed her.
I felt like a fallback guy, the one she went to when things were rough with her main squeeze. When did that happen? Never before had I ever let a woman yank me around. I knew all the tricks in the book. Crocodile tears and pouty lips had no effect on me.
Who was I kidding? I knew Mari wasn't being manipulative and it was wrong trying to paint her that way. She was just doing her best to navigate her feelings in a world that was completely foreign to her.
And now this whole thing with Shadow threw me for one hell of a loop. I thought for sure Reaper was fucking with me, but the dude was fuming. Now I had to put on my dad-pantsagainand get everyone to make up. Just great.
I heard the sliding glass door whoosh open behind me, signaling that Shadow had risen and was coming outside for his workout.
"Mornin'," I greeted without looking at him.
I got a grunt in reply, then watched him grip the horizontal bar to begin his pull-ups.
The man worked out religiously every morning we were at home. He was shirtless and with his hair tied back. Only in this yard and in present company was he ever comfortable doing so. I'd bet my flock of chickens I was still the only person who saw his face unobstructed.
I lost count of his pull-ups around sixty. He did about twenty more before grabbing a 45-pound plate to hold between his ankles and began another set.
I could hardly believe I was looking at the same skinny, malnourished and timid kid curled up into a ball at my prison job so many years ago. With plenty of food and a set of heavy weights to lift, he turned into a beast.
Or rather, he was always a beast. Now he was just no longer caged.
"Your stitches look good, Frankenstein," I called out, noticing the clean, sutured wound just above his hip.
