Love Thy Brother: Rebel Kings MC: Rubi & River by Garrett Leigh

Author:Garrett Leigh [Leigh, Garrett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fox Love Press
Published: 2023-03-28T18:30:00+00:00

16

RUBI

“You cooked real food without me.”

River’s housemate’s deep Lithuanian voice was muffled by the fridge, shoulders hunched as he investigated the contents, wavy hair spilling into his face.

He wasn’t talking to me, but I answered him anyway. “I was hungry.”

Oscar stopped rummaging and came upright so fast he nearly brained himself on a shelf.

He shut the fridge and rotated. “You cooked real food without me?”

“It happens, bro.” I leaned against the counter.

Oscar regarded me through thick, dark lashes, nothing but easy curiosity behind them. “When?”

“Yesterday.”

He turned back to the fridge. Opened it and retrieved the dish of leftovers. “You are wearing my clothes.”

Damn. I’d forgotten about that. “We got wet. River said it was okay.”

“It is fine. Where is he?”

“Upstairs.” Packing a bag while Saint, Decoy, and Folk lurked somewhere outside. Decoy was going to follow us back to Whitness. To my house. No consensus on which bed River was gonna sleep in, but I was hanging onto hope that it would be mine. “We’re gonna stay at my place a few days.”

“Everything is all right?”

“Yep.”

Oscar accepted my answer and pulled open a drawer, fishing out a fork. “Aras will miss him. Sometimes I think he likes River more than his dad.”

“Sure that ain’t true.”

Oscar shrugged and started demolishing the dish of Matherson Macaroni. I sank into the companionable silence, bopping along to the mediocre migraine pulsing in my temple. Honestly, I’d had worse—much worse—but it was a fucking kick in the dick that it was happening today when, thanks to some mystery wannabe murderers, I was about to enter a two-person lockdown with the love of my life. A harder blow even than realising Oscar the Fisherman was about sixty times hotter up close.

Not as hot as River.

Hell, no. Of everything that was swirling around my head, that was the one thought I couldn’t escape. Maybe it was because we were about to be alone together again when the whole world seemed to have imploded since then. But then . . . no. That wasn’t it. The world imploded every other week. If I hadn’t learned to roll with the punches by now, I never fucking would.

“Who is that?”

Oscar brought me back to the present. I moved to the window where he stood and peered around him. He pointed at the black Transporter I’d seen in the surveillance photos Alexei had brought to the table, but it had been conspicuously absent since the morning of the pig-blood massacre. “No idea. You seen them before?”

“A few times. They have parked there since the summer.”

“During the day?”

Oscar glanced over his shoulder. “At night. Why? Who is it?”

“Dunno, mate. Someone desperate for their parking space, no doubt.”

“English people are obsessed with parking, it’s true.” Oscar faced me again. “But that is not why you are angry with this van, is it?”

“I’m not angry.” But as the words slipped out, the lie smacked me in the face. Rage vibrated through me, simmering in my veins, and I was away from the window and at the door before I knew what the ever-loving fuck I was doing.

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