Page 71 of Brick's Retribution

"Will I be welcome?" she asks, and I can hear the uncertainty beneath her casual tone.

"You're with me," I reply simply. "That makes you always welcome."

The smile she gives me is radiant. "I like the sound of that."

We take our time getting ready, sharing the small bathroom like we've been doing it for years instead of days.

There's something domestic about it that should feel strange but doesn't.

Watching her brush her teeth while I shave, stealing glances at her in the mirror—it feels right in a way nothing else ever has.

Downstairs, the clubhouse is in full party preparation mode.

Brothers are setting up tables in the courtyard, stringing lights between the buildings, hauling kegs of beer from storage.

The atmosphere is relaxed, celebratory, so different from what it’s been like these last few months.

"Brick!" Compass waves me over from where he's adjusting something on the sound system. "Can you test this setup?"

I walk over, Imani's hand in mine, and help him fine-tune the speakers.

It's mindless work once you get the hang of it, the kind of routine club shit I've missed during my months of searching for Lashes.

"Sounds good," I tell him after we run through a few test songs.

"Perfect. This is going to be epic." He grins, then looks at Imani. "You drink margaritas? I make the best ones in Mexico."

I won’t say this to his face, but I highly doubt thisgringomakes the best margaritas in all of Mexico.

"I'd love to try one," she replies with a warm smile. "Thank you."

Compass beams like she's just made his entire week. "One specialty margarita coming up. Secret recipe."

As he heads off to the bar area, I can see other brothers stealing glances at her, clearly curious about the woman who's managed to capture my attention.

We both can tell people are watching, they have been since we arrived yesterday.

She handles it with the grace of someone used to being watched and evaluated, but I can tell she's working to make a good impression.

"Relax," I tell her quietly. "You don't have to prove anything to them."

"Don't I?" she asks. "I'm an outsider walking into the club, your family. That has to mean something."

Before I can respond, a massive shadow falls across us.

Doom, one of the other prospects, approaches me. "Brick, it’s good to have you back," he says in his gravelly voice. "Got a minute?"

I nod, squeezing Imani's hand before releasing it. "I'll be right back."

Doom leads me to a quieter corner of the courtyard, away from the party preparations.

He's a man of few words, so when he wants to talk, it's usually important.

"How you holding up?" he asks, leaning back against a concrete planter.

"Good. Better than I have in months."

He nods slowly, studying me with those dark eyes that miss nothing. "You look different. More settled."

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