Page 38 of Rafe: Sins of the Father

“It is not,” Billy protests, then turns to me. “Is it a lame gift?”

I shrug. “Not if she likes coffee.”

“She loves those mocha Frappuccino things. It’s a hundred bucks worth.”

I grin. “Then it’s an awesome gift.”

Billy puts his arm around me and looks at Rafe. “See, asshole. She knows. I like her already.”

Rafe puts a hand on Billy’s chest and shoves him off me. “Let her breathe, man.”

Billy chuckles. “Sorry, m’lady. No disrespect meant.” He sweeps into a bow like one of the three musketeers.

“You’re hilarious,” Rafe says.

“Billy! You’re up,” some guy shouts from the pool table.

“Gotta go. Nice to meet you, Tori.” Then he winks at Rafe.

The prospect sets a martini glass before me. “Here you are. Let me know if you like it.”

The contents are creamy, with a café au lait color. “Looks delicious.”

“Try it,” Rafe says.

I give it a small sip. “Oh, my God. That’s so good.” I look at the prospect. “Thank you for making it for me.”

He grins like I just gave him the best compliment. “My pleasure, Miss.”

“While we’re in Church, you give her whatever she wants, understand, prospect?” Rafe orders.

“Yes, sir.”

After he walks away, I take another sip and glance around. “You said you have a twin. Is he here?”

Rafe scans the clubhouse. “I don’t see him. He might be in the back fighting.”

“Fighting?”

Rafe grins, puts my drink in my hand, then snags my other. “I’ll show you.”

He leads me to the door on the other side of the staircase, and we walk down the hall. I can’t deny that I like having myhand in his. It makes me feel safe and protected, almost like I’m his.

At the end of the hall, he holds another door, and we come out into a large, expansive space with really high ceilings. What draws my attention is the MMA cage set up across the room, a spotlight shining down on it. I only know what MMA is because my friend Moira’s brother was into it and had it on the flatscreen whenever I visited her. We all sat around with him one night and watched Conor MacGregor fight in Las Vegas on pay-per-view. I had to admit, it was kind of exciting.

Two men are bouncing on their feet in the cage, dressed in long shorts, both bare-chested and slick with sweat. They jab at each other, and one spins and does a kick of some kind.

Several club members cheer them on, shouting loudly.

“Come on, Kyle. I’ve got fifty bucks on you, brother.”

“Don’t let up, Marcus.”

Rafe leans to my ear. “That’s my brother, Kyle—the one in the black shorts.”

I stare and my mouth drops open. It’s like watching Rafe up there. “Oh, my God. It’s uncanny.”

Rafe spreads his booted feet apart and folds his arms. “Guess so.”

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