Page 46 of Killer's Obsession
I nod enthusiastically. “So good.”
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, both of us too hungry to bother with chit chat.
“We need to hit the grocery store after this,” Killer says, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Before work tonight.”
I nod, popping an onion ring into my mouth. “What time do we need to be at the shop?”
“Six. Fridays are busy.” He takes a sip of his shake. “You sure you’re up for working tonight? It’s been an eventful day for you.”
“I’m fine,” I cut him off, flushing at the implication. “Really. I want to work.”
He studies me for a moment, then nods. “Alright. But if you change your mind?—”
“I won’t,” I assure him, touched by his concern. “I love working at the shop.”
And I do.
There’s something deeply satisfying about earning my own money. And I love helping the artists stay organized and greeting clients.
I feel useful, needed.
Chapter Eleven
Killer
The thumping bass of AC/DC’s Back in Black is spilling out of the clubhouse as we pull into the parking lot.
It’s Friday night, and the place is already popping. Cars and bikes are packed into the lot, and I can see people gathered around the bonfire on the beach.
Memphis climbs off the back of my bike, looking hot as hell in her tight jeans and low-cut black top. It’s one of the new outfits she bought this week, and the way it hugs her curves makes my mouth water. Her long black hair tumbles down her back in loose waves, and she’s got this glow about her that’s only been getting brighter.
“Ready?” I ask, reaching for her hand.
She grins up at me, a hint of excitement dancing in her green eyes. “Definitely. I’ve missed everyone.”
That makes me chuckle. It’s only been a week since we moved into the house, but she talks like it’s been months since she’s seen Pinky and the others. I’m glad she’s made friends here, people she cares about.
“Let’s go, then.” I tug her closer and lead her toward the entrance.
Inside, the place is packed. No surprise that Pinky spots my girl immediately. She squeals and comes flying across the room, throwing her arms around Memphis.
“Oh my god, I’ve missed you so much!” she gushes, pulling back to look at Memphis like she’s checking for signs of neglect. “You look amazing. Is he feeding you? Are you happy? Tell me everything!”
Memphis laughs, the sound light and carefree. “I’m great, Pinky. Promise.”
I squeeze her hand and nod toward the bar. “I’m gonna grab us some drinks.”
She smiles up at me. “Okay.”
“Come on,” Pinky insists, already pulling her toward a table where Cora is sitting. I watch her go, feeling a tug in my chest. She’s come a long damn way from being the scared shell of a woman I carried out of that basement. She’s stronger now— thriving. It’s a beautiful thing to see.
Heading to the bar where Bubbles is mixing drinks, I climb up on a stool. “Whiskey, neat. And whatever fruity shit the girls are drinking.”
Bubbles grins, already reaching for the bottles. “So how’s domestic life treating you, big guy?”
I grunt, not bothering to answer. Bubbles just laughs and slides my whiskey across the bar.
“One whiskey and one Malibu sunset,” she says with a wink. “For the old lady.”
