Page 84 of Property of Stone
“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbled, strapping himself in. “Happy?”
“You will be if you get in an accident and it saved you from eating the windshield.”
He turned onto Whiskey Springs Road. “Probably eat the airbag, not the glass.”
“Do you want that pretty mug of yours all messed up?”
He tugged on his chin hairs and shot her a grin. “You sayin’ I’m pretty?”
She stared straight ahead and grumbled, “You’re not half bad.” His grin flattened out when she said, “I have another idea…”
Chapter Seventeen
“I have another idea…”
Muffling his groan at that announcement, he steered the Honda in the direction of the elementary school. He was damn sure their kids were getting impatient. “Never finished the first one.”
“Oh. I was going to ask if I can put any of them to work since they’re circling like?—”
“A pack of starving wild dogs? Yeah, long as they don’t got somethin’ to do for the club. The club always comes first. Them stuffin’ their traps don’t. Any of ‘em get’ handsy or if one of the prospects or sweet butts don’t listen when you tell them to do somethin’, lemme or Ogre know. We’ll handle it.”
“I hope we can avoid that.”
She wasn’t the only one. Stone thought everyone understood what he told them the other day. He had been pretty fucking clear about what Taryn was and what she wasn’t.
When she didn’t move on to the next subject immediately, he glanced over at her again but she was now staringout of the passenger-side window. “What other shit’s on your mind?”
He might regret asking, since he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know what was on any woman’s mind. Women were goddamn confusing and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever understand them.
“While filming today, it came to me that—if it’s acceptable with your club, of course—I could use the kitchen to make premade meals. The Castle has enough cooler space for me to store or freeze them until they’re delivered. A lot of people too busy to cook, or who simply want portion control, like to buy premade meals a week at a time. I never had a prep or storage area big enough to offer that service before.”
And now she did. The woman was definitely hustling to make ends meet. Add that to the list of ways she impressed him. “How they gonna get these meals?”
“I guess I’ll have to deliver them since I’m sure you don’t want them picking them up at the clubhouse.”
“Fuck no. We don’t need people wanderin’ around our grounds or seein’ shit they don’t need to see.” And that could be a shitload of different things.
No one needed to know how the Kings made their scratch. Or what went on at the former school grounds. And they sure as fuck didn’t need to know a hell of a busy chop shop was hidden beyond the tree line. They’d even gone as far as putting camouflage netting over whatever they could so it wouldn’t be as noticeable from the air.
Having some random discover one of their illegal sources of scratch—especially the most profitable one—could draw unnecessary heat. Enough that it could burn the damn club to the ground. All because Taryn wanted to sell a goddamn frozen pasta dish to a lazy fuck who couldn’t cook their own shit. Or didn’t want to order takeout.
Her, “That’s what I figured,” brought him back to the conversation.
He had to admit, her idea was a solid one. There was only one problem. “You ain’t deliverin’ them. We’ll get a prospect to deliver them for you.” The fuck if she was delivering shit to some random fuck’s house. Especially with her ex about to be on the loose.
Her mouth dropped open. “So, my customers will get beef Bolognese with a side of badass biker?”
An amused smile curled his lips. “You think bikers are badass?”
“Well, aren’t you?”
“Fuck yeah we are. Will make sure they don’t wear their cuts while bein’ your delivery boys.”
“It’s not only wearing a cut that’s a problem. What if the customer asks questions?”
“Answers are free.”
She sighed. “They’ll be the face of my business, Stone.”
