Page 80 of Sinful
"Yeah." His voice is rough. "I know that feeling."
We sit there in silence again, but it's different now.
Charged. Full of all the things we're not saying.
His phone buzzes on the bar.
He glances at it, and his expression shifts. "Shit. I should?—"
"Take it," I say. "I'm not going anywhere."
He studies my face for a moment, like he's checking if I mean it.
Then he stands, phone to his ear. "Yeah. I'm here."
He walks toward the back of the bar for privacy, and I watch him go.
Wondering if he'll come back.
Wondering if I want him to.
Knowing I do.
CHAPTER NINE
Bravos
I answer on the second ring.
"About fuckin’ time," he says instead of hello. "You been in Florida three days and I've heard from you once. Starting to think Los Coyotes got you too."
"I'm fine. Been busy."
"Busy doing what? You're there to negotiate an alliance, not play hero." There's a pause, the sound of a lighter clicking. Phantom taking a drag off a cigarette. "Heard through the grapevine that Ivar's back. That true?"
"Yeah. We got him out last night."
"We?"
Fuck. "Raiders mounted a rescue. I went along. Provided support."
"Support." Phantom doesn't sound convinced. "That what we're calling it?"
I step further away from the bar, out the front door of Bubba's into the parking lot.
It's quiet out here, just the sound of insects and distant highway traffic.
The sky is starting to darken, about time for sunset.
"You want the report or you want to give me shit?" I ask.
"Both. But report first."
I fill him in.
The alliance is solid—Runes, Damon from Reapers Rejects, and me representing Shotgun Saints.
We've agreed to coordinate operations against Los Coyotes.
