Page 56 of Frenemies

My teeth grated as bright orange specks floated down on the seat.

“And you know what else?”

Why was she talking to me? She should be more concerned with the fatal case of road rash she was about to get.

Bailey pointed a bright orange finger at me and then proceeded to wipe her hand on her jean shorts while stating, “I think you’re afraid to let people see the real you.”

“Alright, that’s it,” I snarled and tore the bag out of her hand, tossing it out on the highway.

Her mouth dropped open. “Hey”

“No,” I cut her off, throwing my finger up in her face. “You do not eat Cheetos in my car. You shouldn’t eat them at all. Do you have any idea how many carbs are in those things?”

I thought she would argue. Instead, Bailey’s lips curled as she sat back.

“See, this is what I’m talking about.” Her big eyes rolled my way. “You’re always looking out for us in your own way.”

Did she think this was some bonding moment? Dear Lord save me now. Bailey continued to ramble on while I searched the roadside for anything that would take her mind off this crap. That answer came in the form of a gas station. It was self-serve, but that’s why I had her.

I pulled in next to the pumps and gave Bailey a look.

She returned my look with one of confusion. I rolled my eyes at her pinched brow and pursed lips. Did I have to spell everything out for her?

“Come on,” I snapped my fingers and waved at the door. “The gas won’t pump itself.”

“You want me to pump gas?”

“No, I want you to eat more Cheetos in my car.”

I let her stew over those apparently complicated instructions and pulled down my visor to apply more lipstick. The wind was wreaking havoc on my hair. I may have to roll the top back up.

“It’s really not that hard to do,” Bailey said. “I can show you how.”

I internally shook my head. “Oh, honey, Naomi Prescott doesn’t pump gas.”

“Did you just refer to yourself in the third person?”

My eyes swung her way as I countered with, “Are you still here?”

Bailey’s chest rose with a heavy sigh.

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with a little manual labor.” She opened the door and stepped out. “You should try it sometime. It helps build character.”

Oh please, if I needed more character, I’d buy it.

“It’s a simple job,” Mannix grumbled mockingly as I ducked back behind the wall, narrowly dodging the bullet whizzing past my head, and clipped another magazine in my 9mm. “A quick in and out.” He continued and popped off a few shots of his own. “We won’t need many men.”

“Would you shut up and kill someone already?”

When I suggested that we hit Jax where it hurt and take out his suppliers, I may have left out that this warehouse was his main meth lab. But in my defense, I didn’t expect Jax to be here along with a couple dozen of his men.

Now we were bogged down and split up. Snake and Roach were across the room, covering the door so the rest of our men could get out, most of whom were ducking behind pillars and objects. At least they were close enough to get out. Beast, Mannix, Diesel, and I were trapped in a hallway at the back of the warehouse.

I looked over at Tanner, who was in the middle lighting a Molotov cocktail. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one whose attention was caught by the spark of his zippo.

Mannix’s eyes went wide. “What the fuck is he doing?”

“It appears as if he’s about to light this shit up,” Beast stated while pulling Diesel back behind the kicked-over shelf he was using as cover.

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