Page 35 of Desert Loyalties
Skye starts to object. “Are you sure?”
But I’m already pulling her along. After everything that’s gone down tonight, I need her.
Outside Ranger’s office, everyone stands as we pass, like we’re walking a prisoner out. Ranger steps up beside us, voice steady.
“The misunderstanding has been resolved,” he announces. “Tonight, we’re having Skye’s claiming party.”
The room buzzes with noise as grown men start to holler and hoot like fuckin’ girls.
“Church,” Ranger orders. Then his gaze flicks to me. “Except Mandrake.”
I grin. Damn right.
Before we head out, I tug Skye toward the kitchen. Might be morbid, but now that she’s safe, I’m starving.
A few clubwhores are perched on the island counter, half-dressed and gossiping over iced coffee. At night, their job is to service the brothers. During the day? I don’t exactly know what they do, but when the food’s ready and the place is clean, I don’t ask questions.
Skye’s changed a lot around here. She stepped into the role of queen without the crown. Sure, she bartends, but she also runs this damn place. Keeps order. Keeps things moving.
Before her, we used to order out more often than not. The floors only got cleaned when someone stepped in something sticky or we were punishing a prospect. Now? Things run like a machine. Her machine.
The women tried to push back at first, especially the one who thought blowing me occasionally made her important. Serena. She thought she ran the show, strutting around like a little boss bitch.
Skye broke her nose. One punch. No warning. No one saw Serena after that.
I open the fridge, dig out some pizza from yesterday, and move to pop it in the microwave.
“Don’t,” Skye says behind me.
I turn. “You want cold pizza?”
She shrugs and plops into a seat at the table. “It’s hot as balls.”
Chuckling, I ditch the microwave plan and toss the whole box onto the table. Two plates. Two glasses. I grab the OJ from the fridge and pour.
She takes a bite without looking at me. I sit beside her and lean back, watching her chew like it’s the first time she’s eaten in days.
“The one time you were away,” I say casually flicking off something on the table, “they order in and didn’t even bother cleaning the tables.”
She rolls her eyes. “No one can control them.”
I smirk. “Pretty sure they’re all scared shitless of you after you knocked Serena out last year.”
She slows her chewing. Looks up. “You remember her name, huh?”
Her tone’s light, but I hear the edge.
I meet her gaze, unfazed. “Yeah, I remember her.” Her jaw clenches, just a little. I grin. “Had to ban her. Guess one broken bone wasn’t enough.”
Skye snorts, then laughs. “She was persistent.”
“She was delusional,” I say, taking a bite of pizza. “Thought just because I let her suck me off now and then, she had some kind of claim.”
Skye gives me a sidelong glance. “Did she?”
“Fuck no.”
She studies me for a second longer, then turns back to her pizza. Takes another bite. Her posture’s starting to ease, shoulders loosening, jaw relaxing.
