Page 43 of Fatal Attraction

I mentally kicked myself in the ass for not taking that into consideration ahead of time.

Phoenix drew in a powerful breath, releasing it as he stalked toward the building, his fists curled cautiously at his sides, his head raised high. “Whatever you see or hear tonight,” he muttered, his head turning to me as I fell in step beside him. “Please know I’m not that person anymore.”

“Phoenix—”

“No, dammit, I need you tolisten.I’ll have to do things, Spike. Things I haven’t done inyears.You’re going to see a side of me you’ve never encountered before.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Phoenix sighed, dropping his head. “I guess you’ll see for yourself.”

We made it to the entrance, where this time a chubby guy with a shaved head, wearing a sleeveless Rolling Rebels jacket and baggyblue jeans, guarded the door. He cocked his head to the side at Phoenix, grinning big before he extended his hand.

“Bonecrusher.” My partner shook his hand firmly, keeping his face impassive. “It’s been a long time, brother.”

“How’s it going, Toothpick?”

Toothpick?

It wasn’t meant as an insult, but I couldn’t help but do another baffled sweep over the biker, studying his bald head, massive belly, and the tattoos scattered up and down his large arms.

“I used to be a toothpick,” the man said, offering his hand to me. I shook it firmly, doing the smart thing by keeping my fucking mouth shut. “That was many years ago though, before I married the woman who helped fatten me up.” He paused, releasing a boisterous laugh at my gaping mouth. “You must be Spike.”

Still, I said nothing.

“Boss is busy at the moment, so feel free to go in, drink, and mingle. I’ll let you know when he’s ready for you.”

“We can’t stay long,” my partner said to him. “Make sure Crow knows we’re on a time limit.”

The man who identified as Toothpick graciously bowed his head out of respect. “Of course, Bonecrusher.”

“I don’t want to do this,” Phoenix whispered when he was gone.

“I’m with you,” I promised, reaching up and grasping his shoulder tight. “No matter what happens, I’m with you. You’re still my partner.”

“I’m sorry, Spike.”

“So am I, brother. So am I.”

Drawing in a final breath, Phoenix pushed open the door, releasing a jubilant sigh at the ironic sound of Five Finger Death Punch blasting through the place. After closing his eyes, I watched him closely; experienced the joy spreading across his face as he began singing along, bobbing his head and moving his body. It was his favorite song.

Under and Over It.

Phoenix let himself go, head banging and swaying, before he crouched down low and then sprung up like the rising sun, howling like a wolf at the top of his fucking lungs. Others howled in response but didn’t bother taking the time to look and acknowledge our presence.

A wicked grin spread across Phoenix’s face when he peered at me over his shoulder. Nudging his head toward the bar, I followed him there, spotting Crow’s daughter—Kendra, I think—racing around the bar to drop off some drinks at a high-top table full of what I suspected were normal civilians.

“Kendra,” Phoenix greeted her when she was back, after we’d taken our seats.

She bristled, completely overwhelmed as she froze, her blue eyes bugging wider and wider as she turned to face us.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, gazing here, there, and every-fucking-where around the place, most likely searching for her father. “You can’t be here, Phoenix.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured her. “Your father is expecting us.”

Her pretty face tightened in anger. After tucking a few strands of dirty-blond hair behind her ears, she moved closer to us and asked, “Why is he dragging you into this shit?”

“You know why,” Phoenix said softly. “If I do this for him, all the bad blood between us will be wiped clean.”

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