Misfit(95)

Ignoring his growing desire, Stretch decided to play devil’s advocate. If Fee liked Kendall, despite everything, then someone had to find a way to stop her bullshit. “Kendall isn’t comprehending her actions. Meggie will know how to fix this.”

“I don’t know,” Fee hedged. “Meggie might go to Christopher. He’d go to Kendall and she’d reveal our relationship. This is extremely serious.”

“Pull Johnnie aside and tell him.” One thing about Outlaw and Johnnie, if their women spoke, they listened, be it wives, sisters, or cousins. Johnnie might not believe Stretch without proof but he’d believe Fee on her word alone. “Leave Meggie out of it for now.”

“Agreed. John Boy should know about his wife,” Cash added.

“Tell Johnnie,” Stretch said firmly.

Fee bit her lip. “Will that cause problems for you two?”

“Probably.” According to Kendall, at least. Johnnie wouldn’t want Fee with him and Cash, any more than Outlaw would. But something had to be done. Now that Kendall had something on them, she’d use it to her advantage for as long as she lived.

The club might’ve been experiencing a new, laid-back Outlaw, but Stretch was sure he’d revert back to the bad-tempered killer, if he discovered all the lies and backstabbing. That meant not only him and Cash dying but Kendall, too.

Maybe, she should. If she didn’t risk herself and Johnnie, she risked the entire club. Stretch foresaw years of her bullshit. Protecting her shouldn’t be the smallest consideration. Yet, Johnnie loved her, and her death at Outlaw’s hands would create pure chaos.

“You’ll most likely be saving her ass from Outlaw’s wrath. He will find out,” Cash swore. “Eventually, he finds out everything.”

“Yeah,” Stretch agreed glumly. “He’s uncanny like that.”

“If you say so,” she muttered. “I’ll tell Johnnie the first chance I get.”

Clearly, she wasn’t happy about betraying a witch who deserved no one’s loyalty.





For the next couple of nights, Cash invited Fee and Stretch to his house, not for sex, but for company. It surprised him how enjoyable he found them. They were funny, flirty, and fun. Cash felt himself falling deeper into their combined lures. Their easy banter impressed him. He wanted to spend as much time as possible with them, no longer feeling as if he was betraying Stretch with Fee, and vice versa.

Happiness didn’t last, so Cash took these times with a grain of salt.

After dinner on the third night, the three of them walked to the neighborhood bar, where her sat with Stretch, watching Fee perform a cover of The Fade Out Line on the makeshift stage.

The spotlight highlighted a reddish shimmer in her hair. Tight black jeans hugged a nice ass and curvy hips. Her cropped top showed off her flat stomach and drew attention to her firm breasts. She was a stunning woman.

Stretch couldn’t gaze away from her. “You should let Sloane hear her. He might let her cut a track with Phoenix Rising.”

“He might,” Cash agreed as Fee closed out the song.

“Thank you.” Her voice through the microphone carried over the whistles and applause. “Thank you very much. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Halfway to their table, she pointed to the bar and made a drinking motion. Cash nodded and held up his nearly empty bottle of beer.

“Need another one?” he asked Stretch.

“Yeah.”

Holding up two fingers, Cash pointed between him and Stretch. She made the okay sign with her fingers, then continued on. At the bar, she placed the orders and dug in her pocket for money.

“Cheap bastard,” Stretch teased. “That’s why you asked her to order.”

“You know me too well,” Cash responded dryly.

“Who the fuck is that?”

Stretch’s outraged voice snapped Cash’s attention back toward the bar, where a motherfucker standing too close to Fee, chatting her up. When she went to grab the three beers, asshole took one and then indicated to her. Less than a minute later, she and strange motherfucker arrived at the table.

She handed Stretch his beer, then sipped from hers, glancing at the dickhead who’d followed her.

“That’s his beer,” she said, nodding to Cash.

His good mood fleeing, Cash glared at Fee. “Not. Never trust strange motherfuckers with my fucking drinks.”

Asshole held out his hand. “I’m Noah.”

Cash took an immediate dislike to Noah, with his clean-shaven, boyish face and neat brown hair. Grinning, he drank deeply from the beer that should’ve been Cash’s.

He stormed to his feet, shouldering Noah out of his path.