Page 37 of Riding the Edge

That makes me laugh and as she continues to dictate the simple recipe to her daughter, I watch her. They exchange a few more words before she disconnects the call and shoves the phone back inside her purse. Lifting her now full glass, she downs half the wine.

“Problem?”

“I don’t know who is worse, her or Riggs.”

“Come again?”

“He got on the phone at the end to ask me about the job again.”

She lifts her head abruptly and points a finger at me.

“Wait a minute,” she says, suspiciously. “Are you part of this?”

Having absolutely no idea what she’s talking about, I narrow my eyes and lift the beer to my lips.

“Am I part of what?”

“Oh my God, that’s why you asked me to dinner,” she mutters. “All that talk about bikers—you were trying to convince me to take the job.”

“Lady, I got no clue what you’re talking about.”

“The bar.”

“What bar?”

“Don’t insult me, Al.”

Placing the bottle on the table, I lean forward.

“I asked you to dinner because I wanted to get to know you better,” I tell her. “You’re easy on a man’s eyes too,” I add, reaching across the table to tuck a strand of her blond hair behind her ear. “Real fucking easy on the eyes.”

“There’s that filthy mouth again,” she whispers.

“Plenty more where that came from,” I say, dropping my hand away. “Lady, I don’t play games. What you see is what you get. You’re either gonna love me or you’re gonna hate me. There’s no in between.”

Taking her lower lip between her teeth, her features soften as she cocks her head to the side.

“Not lookin’ to play you any kind of way,” I assure her.

“I assumed you knew,” she sighs, releasing her lip. “Riggs bought a bar out in Staten Island. He’s been renovating it and is going to offer it to the club to use as a clubhouse. The bar would still act as a business and he wants me to run it along with the kitchen,” she reveals, pausing for a moment. “What’s going on with you and the club?”

Scratching the side of my face, I keep my eyes on her as digest the news about the bar. It wouldn’t be the first time Riggs used his own funds to bail us out of a jam and knowing Jack doesn’t like to accept a handout would explain why none of us knew about his plan. I gotta admit, it’s not a bad idea. The club can’t continue to operate out of the garage and it’s going to cost more to rebuild the compound than the land is worth.

As far as Maria taking a job with the club—well, I don’t know what to make of that. If I hadn’t handed in my patch, I might’ve liked having her around all the time.

“Al?”

“Sorry,” I mutter, snapping out of my trance.

“What’s going on?”

“I handed in my patch yesterday.”

Surprised at how easily I shared that, I stare at her, gauging her reaction.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m taking a step back from the Satan’s Knights.”

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