Grey (Storm's Soldiers MC Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

tapped nervously underneath.
    A thousand bold lines ran through my head as I got closer and closer, but then our eyes met. All I could do was tip my head and say, “This seat taken?”
    She took a moment to answer, as if she were still not sure about this. “No,” she said. “Go on.”
    I crumpled into the other end of the round booth. We weren’t quite face to face, and that somehow made it more intimate. It felt like we were hands of a clock destined to wind up point the same way sooner or later. Assuming the clock wasn’t broken.
    “You look good,” I said.
    “Thanks,” she said. “But it’s only been like three days.”
    “And the time has treated you kindly.”
    Her lips pulled up for a second before she tugged them back flat. “What do you want?” she asked, sliding over the menu. “I’m buying.”
    That threw me off. “I don’t follow.”
    “There’s nothing to follow. I asked you to come to dinner, so I owe you a dinner right?”
    “Darlin, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not sure where you got the idea that included being a charity case.”
    “I didn’t say you were. You can buy if you want. I’m just trying to be cordial.”
    “Cordial?” I chuckled and eased into my seat. The girl was more confused than me. “I don’t remember cordiality being in short supply between us. But I get it. You want to keep me at arm’s length, show me you don’t need me. Message received.”
    She made a face like I’d exhaled garlic. “I don’t need you.”
    “You need something. Why else we here?”
    She nodded thoughtfully, then pulled a tablet from her purse. “You’re right. I need answers.”
    I was blooming more with questions, but our waitress picked that moment to pop up all perky for orders. I would have loved a couple fingers of whiskey going into this, but got the opposite instead. Coffee, black with buckshot, and some random breakfast platter. Meagan ordered chicken strips and some fruit juice and our waitress bounced away.
    “What sort of answers are you looking for?” I said.
    “I want to know who exactly I gave two weeks of my life to. And why.”
    Her eyes fell to her screen and the air felt colder. This looked to be less a conversation and more an interrogation.
    “And what exactly am I getting out of this?” I asked.
    “A voice,” she said. “Isn’t that what guys like you want anyway? For someone to listen to your views?”
    “Did you notice me voicing them while we were together?”
    She shrugged. “Not in front of me, no, but that would be stupid. You’re not stupid.”
    “Glad you can see that, at least.” I rapped the table. “So you want to know whether I was screwing you and preaching against blacks when we were apart? The answer is no.”
    “No?” She snapped up. “What do you mean no?”
    “I don’t walk around in white robes during the day. I’ve never been about that.”
    She looked from me to the screen, genuinely bewildered. If I’d tripped her up already, this meeting might not be as set in stone as it appeared. The drinks appeared and I inhaled a hot wash of sweet, dark caffeine.
    “So what do you do during the day then?” she finally asked.
    “Various things.” I wanted to cut off there, but it wouldn’t be enough for her. “Club business mostly. The Soldiers are a motorcycle club first and foremost. We’ve got to make money and preaching hatred ain’t exactly a source of income.”
    “So how do you make money?”
    “We, uh, move certain merchandise from one place to another.” I saw her brow furrow up and added. “Not drugs, but not cotton candy either.”
    She sipped her tumbler of juice. Her dark eyes were unreadable, but at least they were fixed on me. “So you guys don’t directly do any race stuff?”
    All I would have to do was shake my head. For all her severity, this girl was innocent to the hard ways of the world. The lie would be so much easier than the truth. But Calix was in my head, whispering plans for the rally. The