“What do you mean?” I asked in confusion.
“I mean a guy named Duke is sitting on his bike, hanging out in the back alley.”
With a frown, I marched to the back door. Duke was in the spot that Jazz said he was.
“Morning, Brooklyn,” he said with a charming smile.
“Hi, Duke. What are you doing here?” I asked in confusion.
“Slash told me to be here when you’re here.”
“I don’t get it.”
“He doesn’t like that you’re here unprotected.”
“It’s daytime,” I said. “The brick thing happened in the middle of the night, and I told him I’d stay at the new house after work.”
“Well, he’s taking another precaution.” He shrugged, unconcerned. “He said he put my number into your phone.”
“Er, yeah, he did.”
“Good. He wants me to stick close to you while he’s gone.”
“Stick close,” I repeated.
“Yeah.”
“That’s not really going to work for me,” I said.
“Sorry, I’ve got orders.”
“Duke?”
“Hmm?”
“Is there steam coming out of my ears?”
“No.”
“That was a rhetorical question,” I snapped.
He held up his hands.
I turned around and marched back inside.
“So?” Jazz raised her brows. “What’s with the leathery shadow?”
“Slash ordered Duke to watch out for me while he’s gone. Especially while I’m here at the bakery.”
“Huh.”
“He didn’t even ask me,” I fumed.
“What would you have said? If he’d told you one of his boys was going to watch over you while he was gone?”
“I would’ve said no.”
“Uh huh.” She smirked. “You can pretend to be upset all you want, but I think you like it.”
“Like what?” I asked with a snort.
“The fact that he cares enough about you to want to ensure you’re safe because he’s not here to do it himself.”
“He can’t ensure I’m safe every hour of every day even when he’s here,” I pointed out. “And what’s he going to do when he gets back into town? Huh? He can’t stand guard while I’m here all the time just because a brick came through our window. Things happen. The world isn’t perfect.”
“Speaking of which, I talked to Brielle. She’s still trying to find out everything she can about Kurt Antol.”
“Did you tell her we’ll pay her in frosting?”
“And raw cookie dough.”
“Oh,” I said. “That reminds me.” I went to my purse which hung on the wall rack in the office. “I have cash for the pizza.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I can afford a few bucks for pizza,” I assured her. After all, Slash was footing the bill for just about everything else in my life. I wasn’t sure I liked it. It still felt like we were playing on uneven footing.
I pulled out my wallet and found a couple of bills to give to Jazz, but before I closed the zipper, something caught my eye.
With a frown, I extracted a black American Express card with my name on it. I marched back into the kitchen.
Jazz was on her phone, absorbed in a text conversation. When she saw me, she paused. “Uh oh.”
I tossed the Black AMEX on the counter in front of her.
She reached out and grabbed it. “Holy shit.”
“I know.”
“He has a Black AMEX?”
“Yup.”
“No shit.”
“Shit.”
“And now he’s given you a Black AMEX with your name on it,” she murmured. “This is big.”
“I know.”
“But not just like, here, spend my money big. A Black AMEX is like, elite. Slash must have serious money.”
I bit my thumb nail. “Yeah…”
“But what kind of serious money?” she asked. “Oh, I get it. He’s a biker.”
“What’s that mean?” I asked with a frown.
“Come on, you know.”
I raised my brows.
“They’re criminals,” she said.
“Lower your voice.” I chin-nodded in the direction of Duke. I didn’t want there to be any chance he overheard what we were talking about. “You think they’re criminals?”
“Honey, wake up and smell the money laundering.” She tossed the card back. “Has Slash told you what he actually does for the club?”
I shook my head.
“What did he tell you when he bought you the car?”
“He said because he’s been a Nomad for so long he has a lot of money saved. No mortgage, no real living expenses. Wow, I’m kind of dumb, aren’t I?”
“You? Dumb? Please.”
“How did I overlook this?” I demanded.
“Uh, you were in a dick coma, obviously.” She grinned, but when I didn’t smile back, her expression slipped.
“He’s not telling me everything,” I said slowly.
“Definitely not.”
“Am I just supposed to look the other way?” I asked. My hand slid across my belly. “I don’t know what he does for the club. I don’t know how he makes his money. I don’t really know anything, do I?”
I felt like an idiot. He’d thrown me a bone by telling me his name, and he’d given me another when he’d shared a little bit of how he’d grown up. But we never actually talked about him or his past, or even the club.
I’d backed off when he said he wasn’t ready to tell me about his tattoos, but enough already. I’d been too busy falling for a guy who hadn’t walked out on me when he could’ve. Falling for a guy who had crackers and orange juice waiting for me after my morning sickness. Falling for a guy who wrung pleasure from my body like it was his full-time job, and who held me afterward like he actually cared about me.
“This is why I should never have slept with him,” I said.
“The first time, or the second time that led to multiple times?” she asked.
“The second time. I tried to have boundaries. That didn’t work out so well. My boundaries are basically lines drawn in chalk for all the good they did me.”
“So, what’s eating you the worst? The fact that he slipped a Black AMEX in your purse without telling you? Your new personal security guard? Or the dating-a-criminal thing?”
“We don’t know for sure he’s a criminal,” I muttered.
“Brooklyn…”
“Yeah, okay. I just didn’t want to assume and accuse. I need to be braver. I need to have a serious conversation with him. And I need to do it while trying to keep my pants on.”
“Good luck with that,” she drawled. “I see the way he looks at you. If Slash were a superhero, his power would be to instantaneously incinerate panties. Then again, maybe he’s not a superhero. Maybe he’s a super villain.”
“You’re lovely,” I said acerbically. “Did you know that?”
“Love you, too.”
My phone rang just as I carried the Bennington’s engagement cake into the chilly walk-in refrigerator.
“It’s Slash,” Jazz called.
I set the cake on a shelf, made sure it was secure, and then headed back into the kitchen.
She held out my phone to me and then without a word, left the room.
I looked at the screen and saw his name. I bit my lip in indecision. I wanted to talk to him, but I didn’t want to get into heavy stuff over the phone. And knowing myself, I wouldn’t be able to hold my tongue.
Anger surged through me when I realized Slash hadn’t even told me how long he was going to be gone and when he was coming…home.
And then I got mad at myself for not even remembering to ask him.
Dick coma, indeed.
I silenced the call.
A moment later, my phone started ringing again. I silenced it a second time and let it roll to voicemail.
The back door of the bakery opened, and Duke walked in, his phone to his ear. “Yeah, brother. She’s right here. Hold on.”
He held out the cell to me. “Slash.”
I looked at his phone and glared.
“Might as well take the call, Brooklyn. He won’t stop bugging you until you do.” Duke winked and handed me his phone.
I put the cell to my ear. “Hello.”
“Woman.”
“I have a name,” I snapped.
“I’ll be outside.” Duke saluted me and then left me alone.
“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” Slash demanded.
“Because I’m pissed and don’t want to say anything out of anger.”
“What are you pissed about?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously.”
“For one, Duke.”
“He’s there for your protection.”
“Yeah, I get that. It would’ve been nice if you’d talked to me about it instead of it being a surprise.”
“You would’ve said no, and I didn’t want to argue about it.”
“Not the point, Slash. You don’t just get to—and the credit card…”
“What about it?”
“You put it in my wallet.”
“You don’t have to use it,” he pointed out. “I just wanted you to know that you could. I don’t want you to do without.”
“I do fine. I did fine before you came along. You might not like how I was doing, but I was doing.”
“I want to take care of you. Why won’t you let me?”
“Where does your money come from, Slash? A Black AMEX is serious.”
He paused. “This is not the kind of conversation to have over the phone.”
“Agreed.”
“We’ll discuss it when I get home.”
“Which will be when?”
“About a week.”
A week to stew, or cool off. Possibly both.
“So, I’ve got a week of Duke following after me.”
“Yep.”
“Where are you now?”
“Amarillo. Savage called. The bedroom furniture has been delivered.”
“Okay.”
Slash sighed. “When I left, everything between us was good. Better than good.”
“When you left, I was delusional.”
“About?”
“You,” I said honestly. “We’re not on equal footing.”
“You mean financially?”
“Yes.”
“Well, of course we’re not on equal footing financially.”
“How dare—”
“I’m forty-three,” he interrupted. “You’re twenty-seven. I’ve just had more time. This doesn’t have to be a thing.”
“Don’t invalidate my feelings.”
“I’m not. You want the truth? Here it is. You’re damned right we’re not on equal footing. You hold all the power.”
“I hold all the power? What the hell do you even mean by that?”
“You’re the one who’s calling the shots here, and you have been from the beginning. I told you I’m in, and I won’t bail on you. Part of not bailing is protecting you and providing for you. We have a baby coming, remember?”
“So, the car and the moving-in-together was what, exactly? You pulling your own weight or whatever?”
“It’s my way of contributing,” he said, pitching his voice low. “I know why you’re really pissed at me, and it has nothing to do with my money or where it comes from.”
“Why, Slash? Why am I really pissed at you?”
“Because you’re falling in love with me.”
“That’s absolutely, unequivocally—”
“True. It’s true. And you’re fucking terrified.”
Words of denial got lodged in my throat. A breathy squeak was all that escaped my lips.
“Brooklyn?”
And in a fit of true hormonal rage, I hung up on the bastard.
Because he was right.