“Shots ready,” Cheryl announced and all the women reached in and claimed a glass. “What’ll we toast to?” she asked.
I looked at Vi.
“Stealth kisses,” I declared.
“Absolutely,” she replied.
I smiled at her. She smiled back.
We lifted our glasses and tossed them back.
*
“Cake.”
This was said in my ear by a very deep, very rough male voice.
I turned and my eyes hit a wall of tank top covered chest. They went up, up, up and I locked eyes with a bald man who, I had to admit, wasn’t entirely attractive. In fact, I didn’t get scared easily and, one look, he scared the crap out of me.
“Sorry?” I whispered.
“Cake,” he repeated.
“Uh…” I mumbled.
“As in, you owe me,” he explained.
“I owe you cake?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Uh…” I mumbled again. “Like, you’re saying I owe you money?” I asked, concerned he would think this because first, he was scary. Second, I’d never seen him in my life and third, whatever money he thought I owed him I knew I’d pay just because he scared me.
“No,” he drew this out like I was a dimwitted child, “like I’m sayin’ you owe me a cake with twelve layers and a f**kload of frosting.”
What?
“Ryker,” I heard Mike say and I felt his chest pressed to my back.
Oh thank God.
Mike was there.
I leaned into him.
We were still at J&J’s. The drinking had progressed but I’d moved to beers since I didn’t want to get shitfaced too soon. As I drank and gabbed with the nutso women The ‘Burg seemed to both produce and attract, I understood with deep clarity why Mike had a thing for Vi. She was funny, she was sweet and there was also the fact I’d mentioned before that she was gorgeous.
Not to be conceited or anything but she reminded me of, well…me.
Except brunette with two daughters and a brutal history that would take most women down to their knees in a way they’d never get up. By her account, she pulled herself up, twice, and knowing that made me like her more.
She was like me even down to the man. Joe Callahan was rough around the edges, he had two scars that curved down one side of his face that only made him look dead cool and smokin’ hot and, unlike Cal, Mike had had his hair cut in the last month. But from all reports (these not only Vi’s but also from Cheryl, Mimi, Jessie and Feb who, with Cheryl, wandered to our hen pack when she wasn’t working) Cal was bossy, alpha, badass, protective and could be a pain in Vi’s ass. Not that Mike was a pain in my ass but I suspected when that happened (as it always did), Mike would be the same kind of pain in my ass. This being bossy, alpha and badass in a good guy up top, bad boy underneath kind of way, of course.
By the by, Feb reported Colt was also like this.
Eventually we decided to wander down to the men where Rocky had stayed and I got this since she had a brother who was a current cop, a Dad who was an ex-cop and she was used to being around the boys. She did welcome us and then joined our klatch after she introduced me to her husband though.
Taking in Colt, Cal, Tanner and Mike I was wondering why I hadn’t moved back to The ‘Burg years ago when the man Mike called Ryker came up behind me talking about cake.
“You know this guy?” I whispered to Mike, not tearing my eyes off Ryker.
“Yeah,” Ryker answered my question then he jerked an enormous hand my way and he went on. “Everyone knows me. Now you do too. I’m Ryker.”
I didn’t want to but I took his hand. He squeezed hard. I tried not to wince. He let me go.
Ryker looked over my shoulder at Mike.
“Nice hair,” he noted and I was thinking he wasn’t talking about Mike’s.
“Ryker,” Mike said in a very low voice that sounded like a warning.
“Pretty voice,” Ryker went on.
“Ryker,” Mike repeated.
Ryker grinned and if I was scared before, I was really scared now.
“Seriously great rack,” he commented.
I blinked.
“You’re done,” Mike stated and his voice didn’t sound like anything. It was, quite simply, a warning.
But I was thinking that I didn’t want Mike to have a smackdown with this guy. I figured Mike could take care of himself. I’d seen him in action with Beau and he took Beau down to his knees in a split second and kept him there with no apparent effort. But this guy had two sleeves of tattoos. He was tall. He had a lot of bulky muscle. He had no hair at all. It was early April, there was still a nip in the air and he was wearing only a tank top with no coat in evidence. He had a knife on his belt. And even his smiles were terrifying.
Before Ryker could say anything to piss Mike off (more), I cut in.
“Um, please don’t have a smackdown with my boyfriend. We just moved in together and when I say ‘just’ I mean, like, last night. Drunk sex for us is awesome. I’m half-drunk. I intend to get loaded. You have a smackdown with my boyfriend, you might be tempted to shank him with that knife. This would mean I might miss out on drunk sex and that would be upsetting.”
Ryker stared at me and I quailed hoping I didn’t do it visibly.
Then he threw his big, sadly unattractive head back and shouted with laughter.
That was scary too.
When he was done he trained eyes on Mike and declared, “I like her.”
“She’s likeable,” Mike replied, sliding an arm around my belly from behind.
Ryker looked at me and repeated what he said earlier, “Cake.”
I thought it best to agree though I didn’t know why.
“Uh…okay.”
He stared at me then looked at Mike. “She has no idea.”
“I told her someone was lookin’ into McGrath for me,” Mike said. “She didn’t know who.”
That was when I stared at Ryker with new eyes.
This was Colt’s informant? I’d never met an informant but I guessed he looked like one since he looked like he was capable of committing a variety of felonies and definitely knew others who participated in these activities.
“You’re helping my family?” I asked.
“For cake,” he answered.
Suddenly, I liked him.
Therefore I grinned and agreed. “Totally. My biggest cake is ten layers but that’s five cut in half so don’t get excited about the cake since it is a lot of cake but it’s mostly frosting. If you want twelve, I could swing that. That’s a little tall and it might slide off but as long as it’s on the counter, it slides off, just eat it off the counter or scoop it onto a plate. It won’t look pretty but it’ll still taste good.”