Her eyes fluttered open and she turned her face toward him. “Something you do regularly to unsuspecting women in upscale restaurants?”
The corners of his mouth lifted. “Maybe.”
“I kinda like it.”
He brushed his thumb along her jawline. “Anytime, baby.”
She fiddled with the silverware setting on the table, appearing nervous. “Sure we’re doing the right thing?”
Second-guessing already? She’d spent all that time trying to convince him otherwise, and now that he’d finally agreed, she didn’t believe it? He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “It only took a week to show me what I’d be missing out on if I let you go. Look at me, Tina.”
Her eyes were focused on the windows. “I feel vulnerable.”
He turned her chin his way. “That’s the beauty of it.”
She lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
“It’s called trust, baby. Today we deposited some in a shared account. Where we go from here depends on how ready we are to protect each other.”
“We were friends first,” she reminded him.
“No,” he disagreed.
“You consider it a bad thing? Isn’t that what all the relationship experts preach? Date your best friend?”
“I don’t fuck my friends,” he said. And he wasn’t insanely jealous over them either. If the guy at the next table didn’t stop ogling Tina, he might rip his face off. “We were destined for a deeper connection from the beginning.” He hoped his words provided some clarity.
Her features softened. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Chapter 21
Whenever Vincent attended club meetings or events involving rival charters, he felt like a character from The Godfather when Don Corleone invited the five heads of the New York families to a sit-down. Though Bob Hall Pier didn’t have the same amenities as the five-star hotel in the movie, the purpose remained the same: how to reach a reasonable agreement to keep the Sons of Odin and Man-o-Wars from going to war.
They’d arrived at the designated location a couple of hours early. He’d chosen J.T. as his right hand, and John, Dog Tag, Lurch, and Brian were there as representatives for the club. Several other armed Brothers were strategically posted at the outbuildings, and a couple were even hiding behind the closest sand dunes. Vincent had learned the hard way as a Prospect to never trust his enemies. Even if Chez Castile sounded friendly on the phone.
Lurch manned the rusted barbeque grill that a thousand other people had probably used over the years, flipped the burgers, and added some fajitas to the mix. Food and alcohol would help take the edge off the urgency of the meeting, but it didn’t change the facts. Dog Tag and Saline had violated the code of honor between charters. Something needed to be done about it. And before the Sons of Odin president returned from Austin in two days, Vincent wanted this problem behind them.
He assessed the area a last time. Three rickety picnic tables surrounded the gazebo where the supplies were set up on a trestle table they’d brought from the club. A dozen folding chairs were out, and three coolers of beer and sodas. Saline had packed the food: potato salad, macaroni and cheese, corn bread, and apple pie for dessert. The paper plates, plastic ware, and rolls of paper towels were ready. Good. Even the weather had cooperated. A light, steady breeze blew off the water, and the sky was clear. Though the sun set at seven thirty, four streetlights illuminated the area.
“Let’s go over this one more time, Saline,” Vincent said.
She placed a bottle of ranch dressing on the table, then looked at him.
“The most important thing is to not let Crash see your fear. Okay? Just remember you’re safe.” Vincent patted his vest. “If he tries anything, Smith and Wesson will make a surprise appearance.”
She nodded, but still appeared rattled.
“If Crash addresses you without permission, don’t respond. If Chez gives his blessing, make sure I signal my approval before you speak.”
Women rarely attended sit-downs, only if they were directly involved in the situation. Unfortunately, Saline was the situation.
“Do I have to see him?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” Vincent said. “We need to show a united front. You’re a Sons of Odin old lady now.”
Dog Tag slipped behind her and gave her a firm hug. “We voted, baby. And before I left the clubhouse today, several of the old ladies told me how much they liked you. We need to prove the risk we took was worth it. I swear if Crash disrespects you, I’ll make sure he can’t do it again.”
Vincent drew in a ragged breath. He wanted to punch some sense into Dog Tag still. But he’d never correct a Brother in front of his woman. Call it common courtesy. But behind closed doors…