Page 30 of Finish Line
She pulls away, her eyebrows knitted together and pulls out her cell phone. An unknown number is callin’ her. She watches it for a couple seconds then rejects it. Not even a full minute later, the number calls again.
“Is that him?” I ask quietly.
“I’m not sure. I think so,” she says with a trace of fear in her voice.
“Who wants to answer a spam call?” I ask the guys.
“I will!” Shade says all too eagerly. I grab Athena’s phone and toss it to him.
“City morgue. You stab ‘em, we slab ‘em,” he says with the phone to his ear. He looks at the phone and shrugs. “They hung up.”
He reaches out to hand it back when it starts vibrating in his hand.
“I’ll take it,” Rascal says. Shade hands him the phone. “Johnny’s whorehouse. You got the dough; we got the hoe.”
Next, it’s passed to Diesel. “Austin sperm bank. You squeeze it, we freeze it. How can I help you today?”
“Who the hell keeps callin’ you?” Sienna asks. She’s sittin’ right next to Athena, so she asks soft enough that the whole room doesn’t hear.
“I’m pretty sure it’s my ex,” she tells her.
“Oh shit. Well, I’m sure he’ll get tired of these guys and quit callin’,” Sienna tries to reassure her.
“Yeah, maybe.” Athena’s voice is defeated.
“You’re safe with us, Goddess,” I remind her, kissin’ the side of her head.
“Texas crematorium. You kill ‘em, we grill ‘em. How can I direct your call?” Sketch says into the phone. Sketch is sittin’ closer to me than the others, so I hear a frustrated cry on the other end of the line before it goes dead.
“Who the fuck is this guy?” Sketch asks.
“We’ll talk about it at next Church,” I tell him, saying it loud enough for all the guys to hear. I take Athena’s phone from Sketch and turn it off. I pull her closer to me. “Try to enjoy the night, darlin’.”
We spend the rest of the night snackin’ on food, watchin’ the fights, and talkin’ with everyone else. Athena ends up fallin’ asleep, curled up against me before the title fights even start. I couldn’t have asked for a better Saturday night.
Chapter Nineteen
Bull
The next day, everyone is taking it easy around the clubhouse. The prospects have been sent on a grocery run for our Sunday cookout necessities and our weekly groceries. We spend a lot of money at the grocery store every week. The cashiers are all used to us by now.
Athena and I are sitting out in front of the clubhouse, enjoying the gorgeous weather, but in a shaded area. The Texas sun could be brutal if you’re exposed to it for too long. And with Athena bein’ from Chicago, she’ll probably get burnt to a crisp.
“I made sure the prospects added sunscreen to the grocery list,” I tell her. “I don’t need you turnin’ into a lobster on me.”
She giggles, it’s music to my ears. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
“I gotta take care of my girl.” I press a kiss to her lips.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see Buzz callin’. He’s on gate duty while the prospects are out.
“What’s up, Buzz?” I answer.
“A package was just delivered for you. It doesn’t have a return address on it,” he tells me.
Who the fuck is sending me shit without a return address? My first thought is somethin’ happened to Shadow. Maybe someone is sending me one of his fingers or somethin’. It’s a fucked up thought, I know. But with my luck, it would happen. Just then, Shadow walks out of the clubhouse, instantly quashin’ the thoughts runnin’ through my head.
“Send it down when the prospects get back with the groceries,” I order.
