Page 18

“Blue balls must be contagious,” Big G muttered.

He hooked an arm around Roxie’s waist and rose to his feet, picking her up effortlessly. She combed her fingers through his salt-and-pepper undercut, sealing her mouth to his neck and wrapping her legs around his waist. They disappeared down the corridor that led to the back rooms.

“That’s better,” Baby Doll said. “I bet we have about five minutes before she’s screaming his name and ruining our appetites in the process. So, eat fast.”

I circled around the bar, grabbing a bottle of whiskey off the shelf. Baby Doll snatched it out of my grip and shoved a takeout container into my hands, loaded with scrambled eggs, sausages, and two biscuits doused in gravy.

“No whiskey. Protein first.”

I scowled at her.

“You’re not my mother.”

“Thank fuck for that.” Baby Doll dug around in one of the takeout bags and deposited a smaller white paper bag on the bar. “Your prescriptions. I picked them up at the pharmacy on my way here. And since we’ve already established that I’m not your mother, I have no problem prying your mouth open and ramming those pills down your throat, even if you cry and gag like a little bitch.”

She flashed the most endearing smile despite her threat. I breathed a faint laugh.

“Jesus, you’re violent. And mean. You wouldn’t dare raise a hand to your president.”

Baby Doll snorted.

“Pulling the rank card, huh? You must be shaking in your boots.”

Opening the prescription bag, I examined the bottles inside until I found the ibuprofen and popped two dry. I didn’t give her grief for talking trash. She had to develop a thick skin as toughas Kevlar in order to ride with us, and she had more respect for rank than most men I met in my entire life. Spike had accused me of playing favorites on more than one occasion, but he could whine all he wanted.

“I’m surprised to see you coherent this morning, Prez.” Baby Doll opened her own takeout container and stabbed a bite of eggs with her fork. “After all that drinking you did last night, I fully expected to find you worshipping the porcelain throne.”

I shrugged and settled on a bar stool, ignoring breakfast in favor of nursing my coffee.

“There’s still time. I might surprise you.”

Crash jerked awake with a disoriented grunt, scrubbing a hand down his face. He blinked, bleary-eyed, and sniffed the air.

“Do I smell sausages? From the Cattle Yard?”

I pushed my plate over and gestured at it.

“Eat your heart out, kid.”

He practically flew across the room, taking a seat on the stool next to me. Baby Doll watched as he yanked the plate closer, hunched over it, and began shoveling food into his mouth.

“Do you remember having a metabolism like that in your twenties, boss?” she said.

“A very long time ago. I’m getting heartburn just looking at him.”

“Hey, kid.” Baby Doll rapped her knuckles on the bar to get his attention. Crash glanced up with a lump of food in his cheek. “If you don’t slow down and breathe once in a while, you’re going to choke. And for your information, I don’t do any CPR mouth-to-mouth crap. That’s Blackbeard’s job. He’s the medic around here. If he’s not available, you’re shit out of luck.”

Crash gulped, swallowing his food down. He took a smaller, measured bite of sausage. I could tell Baby Doll was bluffing. She’d picked up some medical expertise over the years, and shecertainly wouldn’t stand by while someone suffered if she could do something about it. But Crash didn’t need to know that.

Voices emanated from the corridor to the back rooms. A moment later, Roxie came into view, barefoot and wearing nothing but an oversized flannel shirt.

“I know, baby, but I’m hungry, and that food just smells so good,” she said.

Big G trailed behind her, his hair rumpled, shirt untucked, belt undone. Obviously interrupted.

“You must be losing your touch, old man,” I said. “She ditched your dick in favor of greasy diner food. Would you like some ice to put on your wounded pride?”

He grumbled and waved me off.