Page 63 of Grave Games

Oh, my. “If you’re a fan of easy access, you’re going to love that shirt with the skull and crossbones on it. According to Ginger, if you tug on that tie at the back of the neck, the whole thing just falls off. Doesn’t that sound interesting?”

His low chuckle sounded like a purr. “Interestingis definitely one way of putting it. The skull shirt and skirt’s your outfit for tonight, and I don’t want you leaving my side for the entire night. Can’t have anyone else tugging on that tie.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, while my skin heated and the place between my legs grew damp with need. “You’re the only man who gets to unwrap this particular present.”

“Hell, yeah, I am.” Still smiling, he gave me a thorough once-over with burning, hungry eyes. “Need help getting changed, Shy girl?”

Like a switch being thrown, I heard Misty’s admonition to satisfy my man before church and all the “services” that happened after. “What time is your meeting?”

“Six. About an hour from now.”

Plenty of time. “In that case, yes.” Smiling, I shrugged off the jacket he’d given me and set it carefully aside. Then I pulled my sweater over my head before making long, hot eye contact with him as I held it off to the side and deliberately dropped it to the floor. “I would love to have your help. Hands-on help, preferably.”

The look in his eyes was a masterpiece of all things sinful as he closed the distance between us.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Church Meeting

“Drink up, bitches, the booze isfreeeeee!”

Dutifully I had my red cup in hand as I watched Mabel get her party on. She and a couple other ladies who’d come in with their men had taken over the bar that had clearly once been the teller counter when the place had been a bank. I didn’t know them personally, but their jackets told me they were Gravedigger women, one who was local, and one whose patch stated that she and her man were from a Gravedigger chapter in Milwaukee. I’d learned their names were Steph and Tina respectively, and they clearly knew their way around a professionally stocked bar.

“I don’t give a damn if war is coming.” Steph, the local Gravedigger woman whose jacket said she was the property of someone named Red Flag, raised her voice so that it echoed impressively throughout the marbled halls of the clubhouse’s front room, now filled with at least a dozen round tables, chairs, a jukebox, and a pool table. “Tonight, while our men strategize and plan and do all that shit men do, we’re going to do our part by getting this party started, so come on over and get your happy juice, girlies. It’s time to party!”

A feminine cheer went up and someone got the jukebox going. Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It” suddenly boomed out, and even though I felt more like a spectator than an actual partygoer, even I could feel the rebellious defiance pulsing through the crowd, and this was our battle song.

I glanced toward the closed door behind the bar. When this building had been a bank, I suspected that door had led to the administrative offices and maybe the safety deposit boxes or vaults. Now, all our men had disappeared behind that door to do whatever it was they needed to do in order to prepare for Hades and his crew. In my mind, I imagined everything beyond that door to be dark, smoke-filled, perhaps looking like an armory, or maybe some sort of nerve center with screens and computers all over the place. The one thing I couldn’t imagine was all this noise out here in the front room helping them strategize and keep everyone alive.

“The guys just started church,” I yelled to Misty, who looked amazing in skintight black jeans, black fringed and blinged-out ankle boots, and a Harley-Davidson orange and black bandeau top under the Gravedigger jacket Lasso had given her. “Maybe we should turn everything down and hold off getting the party started until they’re done?”

“The inner sanctum is soundproof, Romeo made sure of that long ago. Nobody can hear what goes on in there, and they can’t hear what’s happening out here unless they choose to turn on the CCTV they’ve got situated throughout the compound.” She nodded at a camera positioned high up in a corner of the room before she took my red cup of untouched beer from me and set it aside. “We can thank Tyr’s paranoia for all the security we’ve got going on around here. He’s always on the lookout for his uncle’s spies that he suspects are hiding behind every nook and cranny.”

I knew for a fact that there were spies, thanks to Romeo, but all I did was shake my head. “That must be a terrible way to live.”

“Welcome to being the president of the legendary breakaway Gravediggers.” She lifted a shoulder, clearly undaunted. “I mean, Tyr did set up shop literally in the same town as the mother club, which is a huge middle finger to Hades. Of course he’s looking for spies.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing Tyr is so on guard, and that he has Romeo running security for him. You know what they say, no matter how paranoid you are, you’re not paranoid enough.” I nodded at the door while Misty led me closer to the bustling bar. “I’m almost afraid to ask what’s going on behind that closed door. What goes on during church?”

“Club business, which basically means we don’t get to know what’s going on. Considering what those bad boys get up to every now and again, I don’t even want to know. Trust me, life is safer that way.”

That was no doubt true, except for the fact that I was more personally involved in this war with Hades than any other woman in the room. “Are we ever given a heads-up if they know an attack is imminent? Romeo did give me his knife, but I’m thinking I need to brush up on my self-defense moves.” After my kidnapping, I’d gone to every self-defense course that was within my budget, trying to give myself the sense of security that Marvel and his horrible father had ripped away from me.

“Stick with me, I’ve got a can of bear spray in my pocket ready to go. I’ll watch your back if you’ll watch mine, girlfriend.”

“Absolutely.” Impulsively I threw my arms around her neck and gave her a hug, when even a couple weeks ago I never would have imagined I would turn into a hugger. The positive impact Romeo had on my life, including luring me out of the shell I’d been slowly dying in, was incalculable. “Thank you so much, Misty.”

“Silly, you don’t have to thank me for being a friend.” With a delighted laugh, Misty returned the hug with gusto before grinning at me. “Now, I ditched your beer because I wanted to treat you to one of Tina’s unbelievably yummy concoctions. They taste like Kool-Aid but kick like vodka. They’re the ultimate girl-drink.”

The last thing I wanted was to get plastered while there was so much danger in the air, not to mention I wanted to be clear-headed if Romeo managed to bring my brother Josh in for a meet-up. Of course, Romeo had said he’d try to do that before war had officially broken out between the two clubs—a war that was essentially over Josh’s very existence. I no longer had any real hope that I’d see Josh anytime soon, because Romeo was too smart and too cautious when it came to security issues. But I still wanted to be ready for anything.

Misty hadn’t lied about Tina’s mixology prowess. What she called a “Milwaukee Mule” certainly kicked like one, though it tasted sort of like a hybrid between a mojito and a creamy pina colada. Well aware that I was a lightweight, I took tiny, almost nonexistent sips of the delicious Milwaukee Mule while Misty dragged me around the large room introducing me to just about everyone we came in contact with. There was no way I’d be able to remember everyone’s name, but weirdly enough just about all the women we spoke to knew who I was. Apparently I was a living legend, the woman who made Romeo fall, and everyone wanted to hear how I’d done it.

As I fielded questions about Romeo and me to familiar tunes like “Cotton-Eyed Joe” and Beyonce’s “Check On It,” I realized a couple of things. One, no one really thought that a playboy like Romeo was ever going to take the plunge and give his patch to anyone. And two, the respect and deference this jacket Romeo had given me was on full display. A few women I met—hot, sexy, kickass women who wore no jackets—had to be the club’s mamas and so-called “easy lays,” and at first I wasn’t quite sure how to handle them. But all too soon it hit me that they were just like any other unattached people at a party, and I didn’t have to feel threatened by their presence. I had my man. And he had me, because he’d put his name on my back for all to see. That meant as much to me as if he’d put a ring on my finger.

That didn’t mean I’d say no to a ring. Far from it.

But the jacket was enough.

---