Page 70 of Rest In Pieces
“Even if you forget about the kid thing, Midas has this idea of the perfect woman, and let’s just say Legs doesn’t fit the bill.”
“Because she’s a club girl. Yeah, she told me that upstairs. That just makes him a dumbass.” She huffs, twisting the cap off her water and taking a sip.
“If he can’t live with who she is now, then he’ll miss out on who she’s going to be. And I think she’s gonna have an amazing life, even if that means walking away from everything she knows.” She takes another sip of her water.
“Yeah, I get it. I hate that she has to leave to find happiness, but I’d rather she go and be happy than stay and end up miserable.”
“You know, for a biker, you’re pretty damn sweet.”
I lean over, my lips hovering over hers.
“I have a reputation to protect, woman. You can’t say shit like that.”
She grins, her hand reaching up to stroke my cheek, the cold metal of the brass knuckles sliding over my skin.
“This looks cozy.” Blade’s voice cuts through the moment, and I sigh. The man’s a goddamn ghost, appearing out of nowhere.
Amity pulls away and looks up at Blade, who’s got Hannibal with him. They both take a seat, and I scowl.
“So you came back,” Blade says.
“G can be very persuasive,” she replies, taking a drink of her water.
Blade’s eyes drop to my brass knuckles on her fingers. “That he can,” he says quietly, his eyes moving from Amity to me with a look I can’t quite read. We might’ve been friends for a long time, but the man’s a vault when he wants to be.
“You meet Hannibal yet, Amity?”
“I don’t think so. Hi.” She offers him a grin. If she’s at all nervous, she doesn’t show it.
This club’s got its share of interesting characters, and although we’re not exactly saints, none of us are bad either—except Hannibal. He’s a different story. He hides his crazy well, always playing the charmer and the joker. But once you get to know him, it’s all an act. The only time you see the real him is when he’s torturing someone. That’s when his true self comes out.
For most of us, torture is part of the job. For Hannibal, it’s a hobby. He loves taking people apart just to see what they look like on the inside. Honestly, if he didn’t have the club to keep him in check, I’m sure he’d be a serial killer. His name fits him perfectly, especially if the rumors are true.
I shake my head, not wanting to think about Hannibal’s tendencies right now.
I drape my arm over Amity’s shoulders, sending a clear message to Blade. She’s mine. Hannibal smiles at Amity, but it’s just a bit too creepy. He’s usually a much better actor. Maybe this is a test to see how easily she gets spooked.
I keep my eye on him, but he ignores me.
“So, you’re a stuntwoman?”
“I am,” she replies, her voice polite while he studies her like a bug.
“Do you get hurt much?”
“Now and then. Nothing I can’t handle, though.”
“Seems like a strange job for a woman. Not sure many men around here would like the idea of their woman putting herself in danger like that.”
I tense, glaring at him, and feel Amity slide her hand over my thigh.
“I’d tell you why it’s the perfect job for me, but trying to explain to a member of a club built on male privilege would be pointless.”
Hannibal grins widely, like the Big Bad Wolf sizing up Little Red Riding Hood. Amity doesn’t flinch, but she’s on high alert. She’s smart to be wary, but I’ll step in before I let anything happen to her.
“Male privilege? That’s a good one.”
“How long until the movie wraps?” Blade interrupts.