Page 11 of Brew
“Oh, don’t worry, Brew did something similar,” Sawyer snickers. “Pink is his favorite color.”
I move to stand. “Hilarious. If you worked as fast as you talked, we’d all be retired by now.”
“I’ll keep working on the overdue accounts,” Erica informs us. We never really have to tell her what to do, she just does it. “And I’ll buzz one of you if we have an issue.”
An issue being someone not paying on time. Luckily, most people pay their bills, but one visit from us to those who are tardy usually sorts things out pretty quick.
And so another workday begins, though since hiring Erica, Mondays don’t seem as dismal as they used to be.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Erica
I knock on Brew’s open door a few hours later. His eyes are glued to his computer screen. Ever since word got out about the Nomad Brothers expanding their business and setting up shop, it’s gotten pretty nuts. I guess that’s what happens when you have a good reputation for getting things done. Those means and ways may not always be legit; I know the MC aren’t a 1% club, but I also know they deal with things according to the laws of the club. Ride or Die.
“Sorry, Brew,” I say as he looks up. Holy moly. He’s wearing those thicker rimmed reading glasses again.
Sliding them off, he chews on the arm, giving me a chin lift. “What’s up?”
“Um, there’s a woman out front for you. I tried to call your line, but you’ve put it on do not disturb. She’s very insistent.”
He frowns. “What woman?” Then he looks at the other screen next to his, undoubtedly it’s the cameras in the front. “Fuck.”
I roll my lips. “Would you like me to tell her you’re not here, sir?”
“Don’t call me sir, and no, it’s fine. I’ll deal with it.”
He reluctantly rolls his chair back and stands. I take that as my cue to leave, knowing I’ll be able to hear the conversation if he stays out front.
The woman was a little frantic; and under no uncertain terms is she sober.
My mind races. Is she an ex? An uncomfortable feeling runs through me.
Jealousy.
I’ve never felt this feeling before. Being married to a man who had more than one wife was a way of life. There was never a time when I felt a feeling like the one bubbling up in me now; heat rising in my cheeks, my gut churning, my words stuck in my throat.
Still. I can’t ignore the woman. “He’ll be right out,” I say, smiling pleasantly as I sit back down.
She’s pacing. Under all the grime and stringy hair, she’s pretty. Her skin is clear, with big blue eyes, long lashes, and an attitude that no doubt gets her into trouble. She’s shorter than me, and petite to say the least.
My interest piqued, I almost jump when I hear Brew’s voice raise, uncertainty in his tone. “Nova?” His words cut through the deafening silence.
Nova.
So we have a name; she wouldn’t give me one, and I wasn’t going to prize it out of her. She looked like she’d tackle me to the ground if I asked her one more question.
“Dylan?” she sounds relieved. “B-Brew.”
My eyes flick to him, standing with his hands on his hips.
“What the fuck are you doin’ here?”
“I-I got out.”
Got out of where? Prison?
