Flea
"Goddammit!" Hatch bellowed, stalking through the kitchen as we grabbed drinks.
"What’s going on?" Grace whispered.
"Gracie!" Poppy squealed, running into the room and pulling Grace in for a hug.
"I’ll be right back," I promised, and walked toward the offices in the back.
I could hear Hatch yelling from Crow’s office, so I followed the sound, pushing open the door. Maisie stood against the wall, her face contorted in confusion.
Booker was sitting in a chair in front of Crow’s desk, his fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop.
"What’s goin’ on?" I asked.
"Soone stole Hatch’s identity," Maisie provided. "They’ve racked up close to ten-thousand dollars in credit card debt so far."
"Jesus," I hissed.
"I’m shutting it down, brother," Booker assured him.
"I want to know who the fuck it is. I wanna take care of them myself," Hatch snapped.
"Darling, it’s going to be okay," Maisie said.
"This asshole tried to fuck with the shop, Maisie, I want to deal with him."
"Shit," I said, leaning against Crow’s desk.
"It’s handled," Booker said. "He didn’t get past the firewall."
Maisie pushed away from the wall and walked to her husband, gripping his cut. "Listen to Booker," she said. "He’s got it handled."
Hatch studied her for a few seconds, then his eyes got soft and he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. "Okay, Sunshine. I’ll chill."
"I think you need to ply your woman with alcohol," she said, and Hatch chuckled.
"Let’s get you so wine."
The room seed to exhale in relief as Hatch cald down and led Maisie out of the office. Crow stood and shook his head. "You keep your eye on that, Book."
"Yeah, Prez, I will."
With the stress level down, I headed back to the great room and found Grace taking shots with Poppy at the bar.
Grace
Flea’s arm slid around my waist just as I tipped my fourth shot of tequila to my mouth and sucked it down.
"So, wine turned into tequila shots?" he asked with a grin.
I licked my lips and leaned up to kiss him. "It’s actually kind of a miracle. Real Jesus-type stuff."
Flea chuckled. "Nice."
"Everything okay with Hatch?"
"Yeah. It’s good."
Poppy leaned over and hugged him. "Hey, stranger."
He grinned. "Hey, babe. Where’s Sparky?"
"The dog or the man?"
"Either."
"Devon took the dog out to pee."
Devon was Hatch’s nephew and he’d patched in about two years ago, earning his club na by constantly getting electric shocks when they were working on building projects. Ironically, Poppy had nad her puppy that years ago because he’d shocked her the second she picked him up.
"Are you hydrating?" Flea whispered as he hugged close.
"I just started drinking."
He raised an eyebrow. "So, that’s a no."
I wrinkled my nose. "It’s an, I plan to when I drink more."
"I’m gonna get you so water."
I hooked my finger on one of his beltloops. "But that ans you have to leave ."
He chuckled, sliding his hand to my neck. "Not for long."
"One minute."
Leaning down to kiss quickly, he said, "One minute."
Poppy pulled away from the bar and into the little alcove where the kids’ computers were.
"Spill."
I knew exactly what she was saying, since we hadn’t talked for a day. I smiled. "So... we’re official."
She grinned, clapping her hands. "I knew it. Devon says Flea’s been wound up like a top for weeks."
"Really?"
"Really." She nodded. "You picked a good guy, Gracie."
I smiled. "I know."
"You’re gonna need to get on the pill."
I groaned. "I know, Mom."
"Do it before... you know."
I rolled my eyes. "Too late."
She gasped. "Already?"
I felt heat flood my face. "Yes," I hissed.
"No judgent," she rushed to say. "I’m just surprised. You must really trust him."
"I do."
She smiled, pulling in for a hug. "I’m so glad, honey."
Flea peeked around the corner, raising an eyebrow to make sure I was okay, and I smiled, pulling away from Poppy. He was carrying a red cup of sothing and a bottled water.
"What ya got there?" Poppy asked.
"Cranberry juice," he said, handing the cup.
Poppy nodded. "Oh, good thinking."
I finished the juice and dropped the cup in the trash.
"Poppy!" Devon bellowed.
Poppy rolled her eyes. "One second without and the man can’t deal."
I chuckled. "Better go tend to that."
"I’m going to make him feed ."
"Good plan."
She strolled out of the alcove and I smiled up at Flea. "Thank you for the juice."
"You’re welco." He kissed quickly. "How are you feeling?"
"Good. No more pain."
"If that changes, tell ."
"No."
He frowned. "Co again?"
"I will not be running to you if my hoo-ha starts to sting again, thank you very much."
"Your hoo-ha?"
"Stop," I said, biting back a laugh. Him saying ’hoo-ha’ nearly sent over the edge.
He chuckled, pulling in for a longer kiss. "You hungry?"
"Starved."
"Let your man feed you, then."
"Lead on."
He took my hand and we headed out back to the picnic tables, where I proceeded to load my plate up with pretty much everything being offered. This was my last hurrah. Tomorrow I’d be on lean protein and veggies to keep my body in peak physical condition.
By midnight I was pretty tipsy, not to ntion tired. By one a.m., I could barely keep my eyes open. Flea had pulled onto his lap on one of the sofas in the great room and I’d burrowed as deep as I could against his body.
"You wanna sleep here?" Flea whispered.
I shook my head. "The cats," I grumbled, biting back a yawn.
He shifted onto the sofa cushions and kissed my cheek. "Be right back."
I don’t know where he went, but before I could figure it out, he was helping off the sofa and pulling my jacket on . He led outside and we climbed into a car.
"Where’s your bike?" I asked, securing my seatbelt.
"Grabbed one of the loaner cars." He pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the freeway. "You’re too tired to ride, so I’ll pick it up tomorrow."
I rolled my head toward him. "You are the most thoughtful human being alive, did you know that?"
He smiled. "Glad you think so."
"Can you stay tonight?"
"Yeah, if you want to."
"I want you to," I said.
"Okay, baby."
The drive was quick, and we pulled up to my grandmother’s in record ti. I was a little more awake when we arrived, but Flea still insisted on unlocking the door and carrying everything inside.
I checked on the cats, then headed back to the guest room. I barely rember undressing and sliding under the covers before Flea was at my back and pulling close.
"Night, baby."
"Night."
The last thing I rember was him kissing the back of my neck.
"Maisie?" Mom said, sobbing into the phone. "I’m so sorry."
"Maisie! Mom has a gun!" I scread, hoping she would hear .
Only, it’s not Mom anymore. It’s Flea. He’s holding the gun to my head.
"Maisie! Help! Oh, God, please!" I scread, trying to make myself so very, very small.
"Grace?"
"No!" I scread.
"Honey, it’s ," Flea said. "You’re dreaming."
I opened my eyes, and he stroked my cheek. "Flea?"
"Yeah, baby, I’m here."
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