“You believe in God?” she asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.
“You don’t?”
She opened her mouth and then shut it again. Finally, she spoke. “It’s hard to believe after the things I’ve seen happen to good people.”
“Opposite for me,” I replied, smiling. “Hard to not believe when I see you sleepin’ next to Olive, leavin’ a spot empty so I can climb in with you.” I gave her a quick kiss and stepped back. “We need to get goin’.”
“I’ll be right out,” she said, turning toward the mirror as I opened the bathroom door. “I need to finish up.”
“Don’t forget the lipstick,” I said knowingly, kissing the back of her neck as our eyes met in the mirror. “The red lipstick makes you look like one of those old school pin-ups.”
“Get your head in the game,” she teased, shoving at me.
My stomach was in knots as I went back into our room, stripping out of the dirty clothes I’d just put on. There were so many ways the day could go wrong. As I got dressed, every possible bad scenario ran through my mind on a loop.
Pulling my holster out of my go-bag, I slipped it over my shoulders, grimacing as it rubbed over my healing wound. We didn’t even know if it would work. Without watching Warren’s movements, we couldn’t even be sure that he knew where the clubhouse was, much less Casper and Farrah’s place. Sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on my socks, I paused, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees.
I’d trusted the club before, and I’d have to do it again. If Warren didn’t make contact the way we planned, that just meant that we’d have more time to plan something better—something that didn’t put Cecilia in the crossfire.
As I considered the possibility of just taking Cecilia and Olive to some random island in the Caribbean until her pop took care of Warren, a knock on the door startled me.
“Yeah?” I called out, going back to my socks.
“How you doin’?” Poet asked, poking his head in.
“This is bullshit, and I’m about to take Cec and run,” I replied flatly.
Poet chuckled. “Yeah, I had a feelin’ that’s where you were at.” He swung the door open and lifted his hand, shaking a bulletproof vest from side to side. “Your woman, Lu, told me to give this to you.”
“They left?” I asked, taking the vest.
He nodded. “Should be all set up by now, I’d imagine.”
“They better be,” I replied, silently thanking Lu for having the presence of mind to pack a vest and the generosity of giving it to Cec instead of protecting herself.
“We got some of those, you know,” Poet said, jerking his chin toward the vest as I dropped it on the bed.
“Not as good at that one,” I replied, standing to slide my boots back on.
“You’re probably right about that,” he said thoughtfully. “That one’s in better shape, for sure.”
“You’re stayin’ here?” I asked.
“I’ll be here,” he said firmly. “Mack’s already here. Leo’s on his way back. A few others and a couple of older prospects on the gate. We’ll keep an eye on things.”
“Not sure if I’m pissed more people aren’t stayin’ with Olive, or glad they’ll be there to watch Cecilia’s back.”
“Hell,” Poet said, slapping me on the shoulder. “We’ll also have the women here. Your mother-in-law is somethin’ else with a shotgun.”
“Farrah’s not my mother-in-law.”
Poet guffawed. “Soon enough.” He turned and whistled as Cecilia came in the room behind him.
“Put your tongue back in your head, you old goat,” CeeCee teased, slapping his chest with the back of her hand as she passed him.
“I’ll let you two finish up,” Poet said, grinning. “I don’t see you—find me when you get back.”
“Will do,” I said.
As soon as he’d left the room, Cecilia pointed to the vest. “What’s that?”
“This,” I said, lifting it up, “is your newest accessory.”
“Is that a bulletproof vest?” she asked, staring at it like it was going to bite her.
“Just a precaution,” I replied, pulling open the Velcro on the side. I lifted it over her head.
“I thought they were heavier.”
“The older ones are,” I replied, closing the sides snugly around her. As soon as I was satisfied with the fit, I tapped against the front of it with my knuckles. “Okay?”
“It’s bulky,” she said, running her hands down the black fabric.
“You got a hoodie?” She nodded. “Put it on. Should hide it pretty well.”
I grinned as she pulled a familiar gray hoodie from one of the bags. “Did you steal that from my house?” I asked.
“You wouldn’t have even noticed it was gone,” she grumbled. “You have, like fifteen of them.”
“Hey, I like what I like,” I said with a laugh. “Looks good on you.”
“My boobs have disappeared,” she said, looking down at herself. “Goodbye, new boobs.”