“I can’t drink,” I argued. “I’ve got dinner with my grandmother tonight. With Borden. Do you know what a train wreck that will be?”

“Even more reason to relax.”

I shot him a look. “You’re very bad influence and I wish we were ignoring each other again.”

His lips spread into a smile. It wasn’t smug or filled with cool hate like I was used to. It was a genuine smile directed at me. It looked good on him. He was an attractive guy, and he’d probably be killer without that goddamn Chewbacca beard. I felt like I’d entered the twilight zone. I needed to savour this moment of peace. I was hours away from an impending disaster with my grandmother. Borden was currently in a situation that had me reeling with jealousy.

And Hawke just fucking smiled at me.

“You know what,” I said boldly, grabbing it like I was grabbing life by the balls. “I’ll have it. Where’s yours?”

Relaxing his shoulders, he chuckled. “Can’t drink on the job.”

“I want to drink on the job,” Graeme cut in desperately, looking over at us. “Grab me a beer too. This is going to be a long afternoon.”

“Yes!” I bellowed. “Come on, Hawke. You heard him.”

Hawke’s face twisted into uncertainty. He looked back at me, this strange mischief and thoughtfulness skirting his features. It was a strange look on him. I liked that look on him.

“Fine,” he muttered, caving in to my reverse peer-pressure.

I smiled. It was official. He’d built a bridge of acceptance and let little Emma Warne cross it. The white flag soared.

Seven

Borden

Borden rubbed at his temples, his patience dwindling. Hector was being a dick. He’d come over without a call (a real fucking inconvenience, never mind a disrespect), strutting into the office with a bunch of long legged airheads with their chests painfully pushed out, and claimed he made progress on their case. Instead of being forthcoming with that information, the man-princess wanted a private area to “relax” before talking about it.

It’d been a half hour since he’d said that, and the biker had talked without really saying anything; then he proceeded to dance a little with the girls on-stage and downed two beers. Borden was regretting the agreement every minute that passed, until the pretty boy decided to finally sit down and get to the fucking point.

“We found a guy,” he told him, eyes tailing a blonde as she moved with the beat to the low music playing in the background. And don’t get Borden fucking started on this bit of bullshit. The pretty boy had carried on prior about not letting women in on their meetings, and now there were four of them, albeit they couldn’t hear anything from where they sat. Still. Bull-fucking-shit.

Borden exhaled slowly. “Who is it?”

“Goes by the name of Bull. He fucking looks like one too. We haven’t scooped him up yet, but he’s been running his mouth about some man named Terry Mulligan taking over the streets.”

“Terry Mulligan. Can’t say I’ve heard of him. Know anything about him?”

“Not yet. We’re in the middle of a bribe with a detective in the police department. We’ll pass the name along.”

“Fuck the bribe. I’ve got some coppers in my pocket already. I’ll pass the name along and it’ll come back within the day.”

“Alright.”

“What about this dickwad running his mouth? What does he know?”

Hector took a gulp of his third beer. “He’s cashed up. He bought a kilo of coke off us and invited some members over to a party in a real nice house in town. The boys went, and after the guy got shitfaced, he started talking smack about you. He doesn’t know about our new ties. Nobody fucking knows, actually. Said your reign is nearing the end and a bloodbath is coming.”

“A bloodbath,” Borden repeated, absently turning his gaze to the stage. “With what army?”

“Exactly. I’m smelling bullshit all around, Borden. I’m beginning to think this shit ain’t gonna amount to anything. Who is more powerful than you around here? Nobody. If somebody wanted to take over, they’d have a lot of dead-ends to conquer, a lot of people on your side to fight.”

“Money,” Borden replied dispassionately. “Loyalty can be bought off most people if the person has enough money. I don’t trust anybody I’ve bought off, and I’ve bought off nine out of ten of them. If they all wanted me gone, I wouldn’t be able to stop them. That’s the fucking risk sitting at the top.”

Hector pursed his lips. “Sounds lonely.”

It had been. For a split second, Borden wondered how he’d survived all those years without Emma. If she was out of the picture, he’d be nothing. He wouldn’t survive that kind of loneliness again. He would self-destruct; the rampage would be violent, and the war path he’d leave behind would be stained with blood and bodies.

“You like that one?” Hector suddenly asked, gesturing to some brunette on one of the small stages, her body wrapped around a pole. “You keep looking at her.”

Borden hadn’t even realized he was staring, he’d been so far off in thought. He studied the girl, looked over every bare inch she was showing of her body, and felt nothing. Utterly nothing. No stir of desire. No curiosity for what lay beneath her tiny skirt. It had been unexciting after Kate, but now it was blatant comparison he was doing in his head. Every girl fell short next to Emma. That’s all he fucking thought about these days. Emma. Emma. Emma.

“I’ve got better,” he answered.

Hector chuckled. “Sure.”

Borden narrowed his eyes at the biker. “You can keep getting your dick wet with countless amount of pussy, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to stop at one.”

“With all due respect, Borden, it would have to be made of gold and rum and fucking rainbow lilies. And last I checked, that kind of pussy doesn’t exist.”

For the first time since knowing this douche, Borden actually smiled. “That’s probably a good thing, Hector. No girl should end up with a man like you.”

Hector nodded in agreement. “Hell no. I like my women. Plural. And that’s the way it’s staying.”

Typical biker.

“Then you’re growing into your brother’s shoes,” Borden remarked.