Page 188 of Cook

“Shit man. That mean I gotta keep my dick in my pants?” He glared at Wilde.

“Not my monkeys, man,” Wilde answered. “Nothin’ about fidelity in the deal.”

“Fine,” he said smoothly, but a muscle jumped in his jaw. “No one else in line, anyway.”

“Good man,” said Wilde. “The second order of business, the Parisi transport of guns across our border.”

“What’s the cut?” Beans asked from the TV.

“Enough to keep the club and the town solid,” said Wilde. “Right, Rafe?”

I reached around my back for my gun. The cool metal was already pressed against my skin. I wouldn’t let it be taken from me again. Along with all my brothers, we all looked around to figure out who the fuck Wilde was talking to.

Bou, though, pulled open the door.

A man that looked like a fitter, thinner, less wrinkly Massimo Parisi stepped in through the back door.

“The fuck?”

“This,” said Bou, “is Raffaele Parisi, the younger brother of Don Massimo Parisi.”

He scowled but said nothing. The man was broad, wore jeans and military-style boots—the kind that go with desert cammies. His T-shirt was tight around his muscles, and he had one arm covered in bright ink while the other looked like a blank canvas. Hair... high and fucking tight.

“Meet our new secretary, boys,” said Wilde.

Several laughs started around the table but died off quickly.

Wilde turned back to the MC. “I’m giving two concessions to Parisi for this alliance. But they’ll pay tolls for each shipment if they want our help and protection. Seems fair. Right, Rafe?”

Maddie

I peeked down at thecell phone propped up on some cookbooks. I had tried to follow the instructions from the woman on the video, and I hoped it would look as mouthwatering as hers did when we cut into the lasagna. The rolls of freshly baked garlic bread were still steaming on the stove. Roni and Melanie were slicing them, whispering to one another, but their talking cut off when the roar of the motorcycles brought our attention to the road. I turned off the video. It wasn’t helping me now, anyway.

The roar of the MC only increased, dust waving in the air, as they parked their bikes outside my house. The table was set, but I still looked around like I was missing something. After pulling the pans of lasagna out of the oven, I wiped my clammy hands off on my pants.

Why was I so nervous? I knew all these guys. But they were coming to our house and eating my food. I didn’t want to disappoint Cook.

He was the first inside the house, crossing the living room in a few steps, even in his injured state, and pulled me into his arms. I fell against his chest, and the air whooshed from his parted lips.

He cringed.

Pain.

Before I could apologize, he kissed me deeply on the lips. He had seen me a couple of hours ago and was already kissing me like he hadn’t seen me in months. He treated me too well.

“I missed you,” he murmured into my hair.

“I missed you more.” It was like he took a piece of me when he left.

“Can I come in?”

I peeked around Cook to find Vivi poking her head inside. “Of course! Welcome! I hope you like what I’ve made.”

Doc and Kimmers and Ava followed her inside. Then the rest of the MC’s patched members came inside the house until we were basically crammed together. The ol’ ladies went to their men like magnets, Lanie falling into Angel as they shared a look. Bou walked in with Wilde, having brought their truck instead of their bikes to our house. I wondered if the pregnancy was starting to keep her off the bike.

Rowdy laughter turned into the clanking of metal and grumbling hunger as people grabbed beers, garlic bread, and lasagna.

I handed a plate to Cook, who leaned against the counter. He was the one who needed a seat, and I would kick out one of our guests for him to sit. He took the plate and then jerked his head toward his side, and I sidled up beside him, leaning into his good side. Still, he didn’t take a bite of food.

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