Page 11

Hyram

A few months later

“ W hat’s up?” Thyrie’s hushed voice and the dim glow of her cell phone screen rouse me from my sleep. I hear the rapid cadence of a man on the other end of the phone but can’t make out the words.

“Okay. Make sure no one leaves. I’ll be there in…twenty.” The love of my life disconnects the phone and rolls to face me, unsurprised to see me as awake now as she is.

“Problem?” I ask.

“Cock up with the new client’s security detail. I knew that snotty prick would be a problem, but noooo. Silas swore we could keep a lid on the guy.” Nothing gets her swearing faster than a misbehaving, entitled client.

“The guy’s so bad Silas is calling reinforcements? Must be a real winner.” I mean, I love my girl, but being real here? There’s a damn good reason Silas is the forward-facing side of their business. Thyrie’s nowhere near as chill as he is with the clients. He’s a real asshole whisperer.

“I told him so. And if he thinks for a hot second I won’t rub it in that I was right, again …

” She rolls away from me and strides to the dresser on her side of the room.

I do the same and grab clothes from my dresser.

There’s zero chance she’s going alone to meet up with a man, in the middle of the night, even if it is Silas.

Thyrie surprises me when she sidesteps around me to grab the first-aid kit from the bathroom and shoves it at me to carry. She rolls her eyes and smirks while twisting her long hair into a quick ponytail.

“Since you’re coming with, be useful,” she snarks without heat.

“Okay, but we have a kit in the truck?” I question.

“I don’t want to waste time getting it out of the truck. We’ll take the bike,” she states, already ten steps ahead of my thought process. Maybe, other dudes would be pissed if their old lady just assumed she could use their motorcycle, but I’m not that guy.

Not only does she know everything of mine is hers, but Thyrie knows how to ride all on her own.

She’s had a biker’s license longer than we’ve been together.

Which makes my dick hard just thinking about the way she handled my custom chopper the first time she rode it solo to prove she knew how.

So if she wants to ride tonight, we ride.

Besides, the truck is parked in the garage with at least two bikes behind it.

She grabs the go-bag from the shelf by the door and unzips it, silently waiting for me to cram the first-aid kit inside. Then she spins on a heel and takes off down the hallway, her hustle making it plain whatever’s gone down is serious.

“What’s goin’ on?” Malachi’s sleepy voice startles both of us as we pass the darkened kitchen.

“Shit-fuck-damn-balls, man! What the fuckin’ shit? Warn a girl!” Thyrie screeches.

“Don’t sleep. Where’re we going?” Malachi might say more, but I’m doubled over, laughing too hard to tell.

“We’re bailing out Silas. Emphasis on the we, being this guy and me,” Thyrie says.

“I’m coming. Maybe, you need backup. I got your six.” Malachi’s offer is kind, but I know him enough to understand he’s offering as much for himself as for us. Mal’s got demons riding him hard as a result of his time in the service and the injuries he sustained.

“Fine. But we’re not waiting.” She’s not being unkind, but where Silas is concerned, there’s no way Thyrie will let anything slow her down in getting to him.

I’ll ask her to brief me on what we’re heading into once we get our helmets on, are mic’d up and in motion.

Malachi can get the details then, too, since our helmet mics are synced.

“Spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch. Let’s ride.” He waves around an arm, showing off the tactical watch strapped to his wrist and uses his hand to cup his junk.

“I swear he says the weirdest shit. I haven’t heard that since basic,” Thyrie mumbles. I hear the laugh she chokes back.

Since learning as much about Mal’s history as is unclassified and shareable, she and my brother have gotten close.

I know Thyrie and Silas had a drastically different time in the service, but some things are universally true for anyone who’s been deployed.

Ironically, this will be the first time Silas and Malachi meet, since one or the other of them has been busy and unavailable lately.

Thyrie climbs on the bike behind me, her tight little body curled around mine in a way I’ll never not be turned on by. Through the headset, she gives me an address and fills me in on the situation.

“Silas says one of the new guys was scheduled for overnight duty with him. Instead, he was busy flirting with the client’s wife while Silas secured the estate for the night.

Apparently, that led to the client leaving his bedroom to look for his wife and seeing Silas checking the alarm on a window in the dining room.

Dude grabbed a skillet from the stove and whacked him upside the head with it.

Si needs the butterfly bandages. Let’s be so for real.

He actually needs stitches, which he’ll refuse, and someone to cover for him and Chrisman, who is so fired there won’t be a shop in the state that’ll hire him when I get done. ”

“Chrisman?” Malachi asks through the mic.

“The new guy. Idiot can’t keep his dick in his pants, apparently. Flirting with a client. Who does that?” Thyrie grouses, which makes me chuckle.

“Shut. up. You’re lucky you’re driving right now,” she snaps when my laughter shakes my shoulders enough she can feel it.

“It’s just—”

“Not. Another. Word,” she growls.

“What happened? I never know the inside jokes!” Malachi whines.

“There’s no joke, and Hyram’s not laughing!” she yells, the volume much higher through the helmets.

“You’re right, Spitfire. I’m not laughing. And there’s no joking when I tell you I’m glad the official no-fraternizing rule didn’t go into effect until after I claimed you. Because there’s absolutely zero chance I’d have let anything stand between us.”

“Even a skillet to the head?” she jokes back, finally letting go of the pinched skin at my waist where she’d snuck her hand under my cut to punish me for my laughter.

“Even then, Spitfire. Even then.”

The night speeds by around us, the night air a temporary cocoon encapsulating me in exactly the life I never dared dream of. One I’ll never surrender.