Page 20 of Cook

“I-I, um.” I pressed my sweaty palms flat against my thighs. Words wouldn’t squeeze past the lump in my throat or the painful memories in my mind.

On the counter, Cook’s cell phone started to ring and buzz. Across the few feet separating him from the counter, Cook took a look at the screen and then stood. “I’ll be back.” He walked into the hallway, and I heard a muffled, “What’s up?”

The yellow eggs waited to be eaten. Bacon grease gelled on top of the golden-brown meat, and it no longer looked appetizing. Even the yummy smell had gone. It now reminded me of how meat-like my body had been, laid out for someone to consume. I had been like the slab of bacon to them, snapped in half, licked, chewed, sliced, and then wiggled around like the limper pieces. They’d used me however they wished, and then they’d thrown me out like the piece of trash I was.

Cook walked back into the kitchen, shoving his cell phone intohis front pocket. “You need to eat.”

“Who was that?” I asked.

“Celt,” he said, but I didn’t recognize the name. “I need to go soon, and you need to eat.”

I shook my headno. I didn’t want him to go, and I didn’t want to eat.

Cook took one long stride toward the table and scooped eggs into a spoon, and then he pressed them to my lips like he was feeding a toddler. I had them clamped shut, my teeth clenched. But he gave me a stern look, like he’d win the stare-down between himself—Daddy—and me.

I ate the eggs.

He watched me as I chewed and swallowed. I don’t think I even tasted them.

“You don’t like the bacon?” he asked, eyeing the untouched bacon on my plate.

“I prefer sausage.” I snatched the spoon from his grasp and fed myself, smirking up at him as I chewed.

“Of course you do.” Cook let out a groan and grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the chair. “I gotta go to church.”

Chapter 4

Cook

Damn, Maddie was acting likea brat during those last few minutes. Something happened in that exchange that made her a bit more satisfied than it should have, and it put me on a fucking razor’s edge. And I still didn’t have a goddamn answer.

I prefer sausage.Why’d she have to go and say something that forced me to bite my tongue?

I bolted as soon as I got outside, choosing my bike over the old Bronco for the ride to the Ridge. No one ever called church with this little notice, and for a first, I was going to be late. The club would be pissed and likely impatient as they waited, but what the fuck could I do about it with so little notice?

Then, the highway from Phoenix to Park Ridge was littered with cops trying to catch speeders.

I pulled around back at Bou’s shop and parked at the end of the row of motorcycles gleaming in the hot Arizona sun. I strolled inside, trying to keep myself calm about entering church late. At least it wasn’t the kind of church where lightning would strike me down for my sins.

Bullets were probably worse, and everyone in there was surely packing.

I’d never heard of someone getting shot for turning up late, but I tucked my piece in the back of my pants just in case. Heaven forbidthat I would be the only one not packing.

Words fell quiet as soon as I entered Bou’s body shop. The silence was nearly deafening as people swiveled where they stood to stare at me.

Well, fuck.

Celt stood at the front of the group next to the Prez, Wilde. Celt, not wanting to be one of the people in charge, let the position go. So Wilde, having been the leader of the Diablo MC in LA, took the reins. It didn’t matter much anymore because we’d become one club over the last several months.

I scanned the room, noting how much we were starting to look like something official.

Many eyes dropped to my T-shirt as I came to a stop at the island in the kitchenette.

“What?” I held my hands out and stared down at my best friend since high school.

Celt shot me that half-smile of his. “Your shirt’s just a little on the mild side.”

I glanced down at the words—Four wheels move the body. Two move the soul—and shrugged. It did disappoint me a little not to get the standard chuckles and eye rolls, but not enough to tell them the reason I chose the least offensive shirt I owned this morning.

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