“When did you suddenly become Mr. Spontaneity?”
“Since a beautiful redhead thought she’d knock me off my stool and conceded her defeat with a dazzling smile.”
Her laughter ignited something deep inside him. He swept his arms around her, pulling her fully against his body, capturing her mouth with his. Two years of regret fueled his fire, and he claimed her in a deep, hungry kiss. Her soft body molded to his, her hands tangling through his hair. She tasted of whiskey and she smelled of sunshine, and he didn’t give a damn that they’d become the next show.
“Can I get you a beer, Roxie? You need a burger?” Kickstand shifted from foot to foot, desperate to please and blissfully unaware of how close his interruption had brought him to death.
James tore his mouth from Lana and gazed down at her as she gasped in a breath.
Christ. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her cheeks flushed and her eyes half-closed with passion. His cock pressed painfully against his fly, and it took all his effort to tear his gaze away.
“Fuck, Kickstand. Don’t you have somewhere…?”
Lana cut him off. “Thanks, Kickstand,” she said, breathlessly. “I’m good. I’ll let you know if I need something.”
“I’ll tell you what you need.” Tally came up behind Lana and slid an arm around her waist, drawing her away. “You need to come and meet the other old ladies. After that little display of tongue gymnastics, we want to know all about you and Ice.”
James made a move to follow them and Tally glared. “Girls only.”
“I’ll be okay.” Lana brushed her soft lips over his cheek and gave him a half smile. “For some reason, I’m not afraid anymore.”
Squaring his shoulders against the pulse of want still raging through his body, he leaned in and whispered, “I promised to stay with you. I don’t go back on my word, even if it means spending an hour listening to hen talk.”
Lana snorted a laugh and her eyes sparkled. “Hen talk. Nice. Very chauvinistic and fitting with your new persona. I’ll add that to the list of misdeeds for which I’ll be knocking you off your stool later.”
James pressed his lips together until she was out of sight and then allowed himself the luxury of laughter.
“Kickstand.” James motioned the starstruck prospect over to the bar with a sharp jerk of his hand.
“Sir?” Kickstand almost flew across the patio to get to James’s side.
“Keep an eye on Roxie for me. But don’t let her know you’re there. She doesn’t know the clubhouse. I don’t want her getting lost.”
A grin split Kickstand’s face. “Yes, sir.”
James grabbed two bottles of beer and joined Ryder under a tree within view of the main door.
“You can relax.” Ryder took one of the bottles from James. “I’m looking out for her like she’s my own and now you’ve got Kickstand licking at her heels. Rex won’t get near her.”
“Don’t know what’s up with Rex,” James said. “He knows he’ll lose respect if he messes around with my old lady. It’ll kill his leadership as fast as a bullet to the heart.”
Ryder took a swig of his beer. “Bullet to the heart doesn’t always kill. Seen a guy survive it once, but it wasn’t pretty.”
James gave him a sideways glance. Ryder had often hinted about a dark and troubled past, but he’d never talked about it and James respected his need for privacy.
Gravel crunched under heavy boots, and Bones and Diesel joined them in the shade.
“How did the weapons move go?” Bones stared at James unblinking and then flicked his gaze to Ryder.
“I couldn’t believe the arsenal in that old guy’s trailer,” Ryder said. “Punch’s dad has got to be at least eighty but cool as ice. He unloaded machine guns, grenades and automatic weapons from the storage compartment under the bunk beds his grandkids sleep on when they come to visit and threw in a teddy bear for free.”
James gave a thin laugh. “Hell yeah. I thought we were going to pick up a couple of pistols, not three hockey bags worth of weapons. And those grenades…when he tossed one to us I thought it was all over. I told…”
Bones cut him off. “Where did you hide the weapons?”
James’s blood chilled. As he had expected, the DEU had confiscated the weapons as soon as Ryder drove away, leaving him with three hockey bags full of dick-all and a ticket to an early grave.
“Friend of mine,” he lied. “He’s a trucker. Lives alone. Has no problem keeping stuff for a fee.”
Part two of his plan was to stall when Rex asked for the weapons by saying his friend was out on a job and not due back for however long he expected it to take to think up a new excuse or get the hell out of town.