“Then we need to talk about this.”
“What we need to do is get to the fucking garage. Tyler’s waiting.”
Sean sets his cup in the sink next to me as I dump mine in a travel mug, grabbing the pot and filling it to the brim before capping it. Sean turns to me, and even as pissed as he is, his expression leaks with concern.
“Want me to drive you?”
“I’m good.”
He bites his lip ring briefly before pinning me. “Are we good?”
He tries to get a read on me as I duck my head and grab my keys—over the Cecelia conversation altogether. “What do you want to hear?”
“The fucking truth. I’m not going to lie to you. There’s potential there, not just for me, but for us, collectively long term.”
I pause the travel mug at my lips. “Now you’re thinking long term?”
“Isn’t that the point of this? I see it in her, and I think you’re pissed you can see it too.”
“I see a mouse.”
“Whatever, have it your way. If you wanted me to back off, you’ve made your point crystal fucking clear. Just so you know, you could have saved us all the dramatics and just told me outright.”
“My fist didn’t clue you in?”
He runs a hand through his scattered hair, perplexed. “I thought we fucking settled this.”
“We did. Not my problem she couldn’t hack it. It was your little experiment that went awry. That’s on you.”
“Right. Fuck it.” Sean pulls his keys out and turns to leave, and I glance back out of the window to the world that awaits. A world I want no fucking part of if I can’t play the role I want to within it. That’s where Sean comes in. He’s been my liaison to the outside well before my perpetual state of unrest. While the rest of my brothers remain focused on their agendas, Sean’s always kept my back first and foremost. Even if his current motives with Cecelia are fucking selfish and asking a lot, he won’t betray me when it matters most. Of that much, I’m certain. “We’re good.”
He pauses and studies me for sincerity. “You mean that?”
I do. Even if he’s decided to make Cecelia a hobby, Sean doesn’t do long-term. Whatever he has brewing with her will fizzle out one way or the other. So, what do I give a fuck if he’s getting something personally out of it? It’s part of who he is and what he needs. Something I’ve never identified with but always understood about him. If he’s going to be distracted by any woman, who better than the one that will lead us closer to destroying Roman?
“Yeah, Romeo,” I quip. “But just so you know, she’s just another in a long line of Rosalines.”
“Think what you will, but I’m straight up telling you otherwise . . . and I’m not sure you are or can ever be good with it. As much as I like her, and I truly fucking do,” he admits, running his hands through his hair. “It can end now. This impasse she’s decided on can be an out, so I’m leaving the ball in your court to decide.”
He lingers to make sure his following words are heard, along with his warning. “But if you do decide to let her through, I’m bringing her all in.”
His declaration has me pausing all movement. “And the consequences?”
“On me,” he declares before turning and stalking out the front door.
Stunned by his willingness to vouch for her, especially after her meltdown yesterday, I follow and lock up. After cranking our engines to warm them up, I glance over to see him smiling through our lowered windows while classic rock begins to filter through his speakers.
“Let’s wake you up.”
I crank up my own music to drown his noise out, and he shakes his head in annoyance. In the next second, he’s spinning tires to lead us out of the neighborhood, and I put my Camaro into gear and follow.
At the stop sign, I pull up next to him so our hoods are lined up. After three collaborative revs of our engines for a countdown, we both rocket into motion, claiming both lanes of the main road. Sean grabs the advantage when I’m forced behind him by an oncoming car. I can practically hear his sarcastic rebuttal when I floor my Camaro and bullet past him. The long double tap of his horn is an unmistakable “fuck you” as we fly down the road. Sean starts to gain on me when another oncoming car forces me to slow and roll into his lane. The driver lays on his horn, a “fucking idiots!” screamed as we zoom past. Sean guns it as I straddle both lanes, anticipating his every move, his hood dangerously close to my bumper as I block his maneuvering to stay ahead. I glance in my rearview, chuckling. “I may be seeing two of you, brother, but you’re both behind me.”
When we approach our last right turn, I allow him to dart past me, and I quickly decide to cut the corner of a dry field, tires skidding back onto the pavement as I reclaim my lead and give it everything I’ve got. Sean repeatedly sounds his horn as I chuckle, already tasting my victory.
We take one last dicey turn, and Sean recovers faster, gaining ground and flipping the bird out of his window as we go hood to hood on the straightaway. Opening up, I go full throttle, knowing horsepower has everything to do with the last stretch, and this is where I have slightly more edge. My engine wins as I gain a full car length before fishtailing into King’s parking lot and stopping on a dime. Sean pulls into the space next to me just as I exit. He lingers at his driver’s door, addressing me over the roof of his Nova. “You’re fucking ridiculous. You know that? The rules are simple.” He slices his hand left and right. “Stay between the mayonnaise and mustard.”
“Since when are you a stickler for rules? Oh, yeah . . . only when I’m dusting your ass. If you spent a little more time under your hood than under skirts, you might actually fucking beat me one day.”
Sean shuts his car door and joins me at mine. “Day isn’t over yet, asshole.” He claps me on the back as we head toward the lobby door for Tyler’s update. Tyler’s made it his mission since our warehouse heist to get to the bottom of the who by utilizing his military contacts.
Our major setback with this is that if we attempt to dish out justice on something of this caliber, it could bring attention to our secret. Just as I’m sifting through the odds we’re up against, Tyler pulls into the parking lot. We both head toward his truck for an update when I hear my name called.
Sean and I both turn to see Ginger getting out of her Chevy sedan. We’d missed her idling there when we pulled in. Doing my best not to show how her unexpected presence is fucking up my morning, Sean leans over to me in a whisper as we start walking her way.
“You fucking with Ginger again?”
Our collective boots crunch gravel as I take in Ginger’s dress, appreciating her beauty as I always have. “We hooked up when I first got home. It was a one-time, welcome home fuck.”
“Well, welcome home, you’re fucked,” he chuckles, adding a back clap as I glare at him in warning. Ginger steps up to us, dark red hair flying in the breeze, brown eyes darting between us as Sean takes the lead—his shit-eating grin firmly in place. Normally he wouldn’t take so much joy out of my discomfort, but it’s clear he’s in it today for payback—for Cecelia. That idea gnaws at me as Sean speaks up, addressing her.