• seven •

“You not gonna spoon me out some too?”

King

“You get caught in that banana pudding, and not a one of us will be safe,” Storm Kingston said as he opened the fridge to get a beer.

“It’s just a bite,” I replied.

“Get me a beer,” Wells Jones told him as he pulled out a stool from the bar and sat down. “I’m starving. How much longer we got to wait?”

“Why are we not eating yet?” Thatcher Shephard asked as he strode into the kitchen, still wearing his cowboy hat, which would piss Maeme off more than me tasting the pudding.

“Doc D is doing an X-ray on her ribs,” I told him, then turned to Storm. “Toss me a beer, too, while you’re at it.”

“Do I look like a motherfucking bartender?” he shot back, annoyed, but reached into the fridge and took out another beer anyway.

I smirked, reaching up to grab it. “Thanks.”

“Fuck off,” he replied.

“Anyone talk to Wilder? He was supposed to be breaking into the bastard’s bank accounts and draining them,” I asked.

“You worry about your job. Wilder has it under control,” Thatcher replied.

“My job is done,” I pointed out. “Successfully so at that.”

Storm rolled his eyes and pulled out a stool beside Wells. “You had the easiest job. Flash your pretty-boy smile and do the charming shit.”

I chuckled. “You’d be surprised. She wasn’t easily moved by my smile or charm.”

“Bullshit. She’s getting a motherfucking X-ray in the basement. I’d disagree,” he shot back at me.

I shrugged and washed off my spoon before Maeme saw it. “I swear. She was tougher to convince than I’d anticipated. I’d convinced a Christian into a threesome easier.”

Storm let out a cackle of laughter. “When do you have threesomes? Doesn’t that master kink shit you like only work with one bitch at a time?”

“Is she as hot as the pics we saw of her?” Wells asked, leaning on the counter and raising his eyebrows, ignoring Storm’s obnoxious questioning.

I shrugged, unsure why hearing Wells call her hot bothered me. We’d all made comments about her looks when we got all the information about Churchill Millroe. But that had been before I met her. Now, it seemed wrong. She was an abused woman. Yes, she was smoking hot, but she had been hurt in more ways than just physical.

“Yeah. Could have done way better than that piece of shit she’s married to. One side of her face is pretty messed up, but it’ll heal,” I replied.

“Body? Tits—small or big?” Wells asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Thatcher drawled, then took a drink of his beer.

“He’s right,” I added. “You go there, and it won’t just be Maeme you have to deal with. Not part of the job.”

“Blaise will be here tomorrow,” Thatcher said. “He might have her moved to Ocala.”

It wasn’t the boss I had been referring to, but I let that go. Wells was too damn close to a motherfucking narcissist himself. I wasn’t about to let another man hurt her. She was vulnerable and nowhere near tough enough to handle Wells. That was all it was. I wanted her safe from other assholes.

“Wilder coming with him?” Wells asked.

Thatcher smirked and cut his eyes toward Wells. “He’s a newlywed. Doubt he’s gonna leave that pussy since he’s been wanting it for more than a decade.”

“Thatch, don’t start shit,” I begged.

We had real things to deal with. Getting Wells all worked up over the past was pointless. Wilder Jones was Wells’s cousin, and Wilder had just married Wells’s first love, Oakley Watson. Not only that, but Wilder had also taken her away from Wells over ten years ago. Wells claimed he was over it, but he and Wilder had never been close again after it happened. Thatcher knew that, and he thrived on conflict.

“What? Wells is over it. Sebastian isn’t here to fuck with,” Thatcher replied, grinning smugly.

Oakley had also dated Sebastian once upon a time. He’d proposed, and she’d broken things off.

Wells shook his head. “That shit doesn’t get to me anymore. Wilder and Oak belong together. She was never good for me.”

“No, you weren’t good for her,” Thatcher replied. “Cheating bastard.”

Storm chuckled, and Wells shot him an annoyed glare.

“I was a fucking kid,” he grumbled.

That much was true. They had been in high school back then. Sebastian, on the other hand, had dated her years later. Yet he seemed to handle the fact Oakley and Wilder were married better than Wells.

“Is the dining room table set?” Dr. Drew asked as he walked into the kitchen.

I straightened from leaning against the sink. “You done?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. And if Maeme gets up here and that table isn’t set, you’re all getting an earful. Thatcher, take off the damn hat. You know she’s gonna be mad if she sees it on in the house.”

Everyone got into motion. I turned and grabbed the plates. Storm opened the fridge and got out the gallon pitcher of sweet tea. When I headed to the dining room, Thatcher had taken off his hat and was getting the flatware from the drawer, and Wells was carrying the pot of chicken and dumplings.

“I’ll get the collards,” Doc D said, heading to the stove.

We all made at least two trips, getting the rest of the supplies for the meal. I checked the oven and found the cornbread warming in the cast iron skillet and a casserole dish full of mac and cheese.

“I got the cornbread. Someone grab the mac,” I called out and headed back to the dining room.

When I stepped inside, I paused at the sight of Rumor standing there with her damp curls and clean face. Goddamn, the bruising was much worse than I’d assumed. Her swollen, cracked lip looked as if it had some medication on it now. Those sea-green eyes of hers met mine, and she looked almost relieved. As if seeing me was something she needed. Damn, that wasn’t a good thing, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.

Off-limits. For a list of reasons a mile long.

“You ready for those dumplings I told you about?” I asked her while setting the cornbread on the table.

She dropped her gaze, and I saw her eyes widen at the spread. It had been a couple of hours since we’d shared the pizza, and I was starving. I wasn’t so sure about Rumor though. She didn’t look like she ate much.

“All right, boys,” Maeme said, getting everyone’s attention as they made their way back to the dining room. All eyes were on my tiny grandmother, who stood with her hands on her hips. “I expect your best behavior.”

She turned to Rumor then. “This here is Storm,” she told her, waving a hand in his direction. “Then, we have Thatcher.” She paused and looked back at Rumor. “He’s got a dark soul, but he’s still a good boy.” Which was a damn lie. Thatcher was a fucked-up son of a bitch. “You know King.” She gave me a pointed look like she had some things to say to me in private. “That there is Wells.”

Her steely gaze met each of ours. “Boys, this is Rumor. She’s gonna be staying with me for a while. I expect her to be treated like family.”

Everyone nodded and said their, “Yes, ma’am,” but my focus was on Rumor, who looked like her anxiety was on the rise again.

When her eyes met mine, I gave her a reassuring smile before taking a seat. Maeme had her hands full. I hoped she realized it. The look in those pretty green eyes said she was planning on running. Not that she’d get far, but it was going to be a full-time job, watching her until she calmed her ass down.

“Storm Kingston,” Maeme called as he reached for the skillet of cornbread. “I know you ain’t reaching for something before the blessing is said.”

He pulled his hand back. “No, ma’am.”

She nodded, then gave us all a pointed look that meant we’d better bow our heads while she blessed the food regardless that Thatcher had killed a man today, then shot another; I’d lied my ass off to convince a woman to get in my truck; and Storm had held a knife to a man’s throat to get information from him, then made the man piss himself. Sure, if there was a Lord, he really cared about us thanking him for the food we were about to eat. Made complete sense. Not that anyone would point that out to Maeme.

When she said, “Amen,” we all fell in line and repeated it before hands shot out and grabbed at the different offerings filling the table.

Pausing with the pot of dumplings in my hand since I’d been sure to set them directly in front of me, I glanced over at Rumor. She seemed to have paled as she watched us all, wide-eyed. I really fucking hated the bruise on her face. It made me want to hurt someone.

Standing up, I walked over to her, carrying the dumplings. She followed me with her eyes until I came to stand behind her.

“You gotta have some of this,” I told her, taking the first spoonful and placing it on her plate. “Eat up.”

She tilted her head back to look up at me. “Thanks.”

I smiled and nodded before walking back to my seat. Thatcher was watching me with a smirk. I shot him a scowl, then sat down.

“You not gonna spoon me out some too?” he asked me.

“Shut up,” I replied with a warning glance.

He leaned over and took the collards, still looking amused. Crazy bastard. Most of the time, we allowed his shit because he wasn’t what you would call sane. There was something inside him that didn’t quite work like everyone else. He was detached. A little too much so.

Looking back down the table at Rumor, I saw her pick up a piece of cornbread and take a bite. She needed to lather that thing up with butter. Maeme was thinking the same thing because she took a pat of butter and reached over to spread it onto Rumor’s cornbread. I couldn’t hear what she said to her since there were three different conversations going on at the moment. But the small smile that touched her lips somehow helped me relax. She was gonna be fine.