Page 48 of Viper

“You stole mama from me, and now you’re stealing the Wild Hawks.”

My gut twists. Maybe I shouldn’t have any more liquor. “I didn’t ask to be born. And I didn’t ask for my job. Or Viper.”

Joey tosses her hair over her shoulder, tapping her long, red talons against the side of the bottle, thetap tap taploud in the silent, stillness of the desert.

“No. But you didn’t leave or say no either.”

Shit. I’m supposed to walk away from the most incredible guy I’ve ever met to make someone who hates me happy? That doesn’t seem fair.

I hate how small my voice is when I speak. “Where would I go?”

Joey shrugs, scoffing. “Anywhere but here.”

My heart sinks to the soles of my white tennis shoes. That doesn’t sound like moving forward. That sounds like Joey being nice so I’d come, and she could run me off. It might have worked, even a week ago. But there’s something else to consider now. The elephant at the reservoir, so to speak.

“I don’t know if he’d let me.”

There’s a flash of something in Joey’s eyes. Like she knows I’m telling the truth – that Viper wouldn’t let me leave – and she hates that fact.

With another long sigh, she raises the bottle. You know what, I think I do need another drink. I put my hand out to take it, but instead of placing it in my outstretched hand, Joey grimaces, grunting as she swings it at me. Shit. Pain explodes behind my eyes as blackness crowds them.

VIPER

Pulling into the garage, I shut off my rig, close the roller door, and dig my phone out of my pocket.

COCKEREL: Got openings tonight. Bring her around and we can talk through the designs. She seems antsy about tattoos, so we can do it in stages and in a private room if she needs.

Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I stride into the dining area, my nose wrinkling. What the fuck is that smell? It’s acrid, like burnt tin foil. There’s a thread of smoke curling out of the oven.

“Fuck!” Hurrying across to it, I shut it off, grabbing the tea towel and opening it, flinching back as the foul-smelling smoke hits me square in the face.

Using the tea towel, I snatch up the casserole dish, dump it in the sink, and turn on the water flow. Blinking down at it, I wrinkle my nose.

I’m sure the chicken casserole would have been nice, but I think we should get pizza. This is burned to a crisp. Let's turf the dish and buy another one. That’s going to take a month of elbow grease to get clean.

“Peaches! What the fuck is going on with dinner?” I call, shutting off the water and turning with a grin, ready to tease her.

She’s probably fallen asleep soaking in the tub. Moving through the house, I flip on the lights, my feet faltering as I reach the empty bathroom. No Naomi. It’s not like her to leave the oven on for hours. A few, maybe, but not enough to burn a casserole with such a low setting. Perhaps she got called to something with Shelley or Lisa. Wedding shit.

Digging my phone out of my pocket, I head back to the garage, opening the roller door as I hit her number. It rings out.

“Hey, this is Naomi. Leave a message, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

“Peaches. Where are you? Your casserole burned. I’m ordering pizza. If you don’t call me back, I’m getting anchovies.”

That should do it. Naomihatesanchovies, and she hates the smell on my breath. Throwing my leg over my rig, I pull out of the garage, close the door, and head for the clubhouse.

Palmer’s rig is here, and so is Merch’s. I bet they’re all doing vodka shots at the bar. Striding inside, my eyes scan the room. Joey is laughing near the jukebox, shaking her head as Nance cozies up to Fangs.

My eyes keep moving, landing on three women at the bar, saluting each other with vodka. There they are. I beeline for them, faltering as I realize that it’s Lisa, Shelley, and Vicky.

“Ladies,” I grunt as I stop beside them. They turn, grinning at me.

“Oh, hey, Viper.” Shelley shoves her masses of hair over her shoulder. “Naomi isn’t answering her phone. Can you tell her to get her ass down here? We’re celebrating.”

My eyebrows shoot up. She’s not answering them either? “Celebrating what?”

“Vicky’s invited to the wedding.”