The ayes were unanimous.
Settled. Now Vincent could eat in peace and possibly aim his attention at something more desirable—Tina. He finished his last bite of pasta and washed it down with beer before he shoved his plate aside. He’d only begun to come down from his adrenaline high from the earlier confrontation with Crash. Even now his fingers itched to pull the fucking trigger of his revolver. It had been a long time since he’d wanted to snuff out a life. Maybe the idea of killing affected him more than other Brothers.
No matter how dedicated he was to the charter, Vincent had to live with his own conscience. His nightmares didn’t plague anyone else. Just him. He stalked down the hallway to his bedroom. The real reason he didn’t fight for custody of his sons surrounded him in the way of mortar and bricks. There was no shame in being a 1%er, but he didn’t want his children growing up inside these walls like so many kids did.
The occasional visit for family day, sure. But the longer someone spent here, it had the same consequences as drugs: addiction to The Life.
He sat on the recliner across the room from the open window with his cellphone cradled in his hand. Tina hadn’t replied to his messages yet. Good girl; he’d told her he’d contact her once he got free.
He punched in a message and pressed send. Sorry it’s so late baby, lots going on here.
Thirty seconds later she replied: Are you okay?
Exhausted. Where are you?
Drinks at Ropers.
Without him? A mixture of concern and jealousy hit. Overly protective by nature, Vincent thankfully knew how to rein in his emotions. His past relationships left a certain level of suspicion behind. He doubted all women. Even Tina, but she deserved his trust. That much he knew.
You’re not alone?
No, she replied. With friends from work.
Vincent considered joining her, but she hadn’t invited him. If this thing they’d started had any hopes of developing into something deeper, he needed to respect certain boundaries.
Lunch tomorrow?
Perfect. And don’t worry, I’ll call if Kline shows up.
He tucked his cell in his shirt pocket and leaned deeper into the soft leather, then released the footrest. La-Z-Boy, one of the best inventions in modern history. He yawned, his eyes growing heavier. Maybe if he took a short nap he’d have the energy to go to Valhalla and supervise closing time. Not that he needed to; a Brother always manned the door at night.
The last thing he remembered as he faded to sleep was Tina calling his name while they made love.
Chapter 19
The knock at the door surprised Tina. She’d slept peaceably for the first time in months and had just opened her eyes a few minutes ago. With a sigh, she crawled from between the sheets and reached for her silky bathrobe hanging over the back of the nearby chair. She flipped on the hallway light as she headed to the front door, then squinted into the peephole to catch a look at her unannounced visitor.
Rain or shine like the mailman, Vincent showed up in his leathers, hair sopping wet from the rain. She quickly unlocked the door and opened it. “Get inside, you’re wet.”
He gave her a lazy smile as he brushed by her. “Good morning.”
“Last time I checked, people ate lunch in the afternoon, not at eight.”
“Thought I’d surprise you.” He unlaced his boots, then kicked them off on the rubber mat in the hallway. “Have a towel handy?”
Tina padded into the kitchen and grabbed a clean dish towel from a drawer. She returned to the hallway. “Don’t you ever wear a helmet or rain gear?”
“For a spring rain?”
“It’s November.”
“And sixty-five degrees outside.” He rubbed his hair dry, looking like a porcupine by the time he finished. “Now how about a proper hello.”
He opened up his arms and Tina couldn’t fight the rare urge to act like a besotted teenager who hadn’t seen her boyfriend in weeks. She hugged him tight, kissing his right shoulder and squeezing around his waist as hard as she could.
“Hey…” Vincent set her back a foot. “Been working out?” He used his thumb and forefinger to test the size of her biceps.
She slapped his hand playfully, then flexed her muscle. “Lean and mean.”
He chuckled. “I’ll remember who to call next time I need extra security at the club.”
“You might be onto something there,” she said, guiding him into the kitchen. “Ever consider employing a female bouncer? She might have an advantage dealing with intoxicated women.” She filled the coffeemaker with fresh water, then replaced the glass pot on the burner.
“As much as I respect women,” he said, “very few have what it takes to manhandle aggressive customers outside or get violent when they need to.”