Edge Of Fear (Arrow's Edge MC Book 4) by Freya Barker (top rated books of all time .TXT) 📕

brother against brother. Not that she had any intention of doing so. Hell, if anything, she kept both of us from getting anywhere with her.

One look at that woman—all legs and ass—one husky word from those pouty lips, one blink with those large doe-like eyes, and I wasn’t the only one having a come-to-papa moment. Never mind I’m almost a decade too old for her. My brother is almost a decade too young and it didn’t stop him from falling ass over teakettle either.

It had been almost a relief when she headed back to Denver after Christmas. I figured it would be out of sight, out of mind, but then she came back for the wedding last month. Any headway Wapi and I had made to settle our differences went flying out the window.

I don’t get it, Ouray was the one who ripped us a new one, only to turn around and announce he’d not only asked her to come back to Durango, but also offered her the job at the restaurant. Safest option was for me to stay away, even if it goes against every last fucking instinct.

_______________

“Boys seem good.”

Trunk steps up beside me at the bar in the clubhouse.

“Yeah. Nothing like manual labor and forced proximity to forge a brotherhood,” I suggest.

Elan and Maska would be graduating high school next year and both kids have apparently expressed an interest in prospecting for the club. Except in the Arrow’s Edge MC a prospect is known as a cub. Grunts, who can earn a place in the brotherhood by placing themselves in service to the club. After they’ve had a chance to show what they’re made of and have proven their loyalty, the brothers will take a vote to make them a full member.

Ironically, the last vote we had was for Wapi and that was a couple of years ago. It took longer for him to get patched in because he’d made a few serious errors in judgment in his younger years, and it took him a while to win back the trust of the club.

“And you? Clear your head some?”

Trust Trunk to see right through to the core.

“Time will tell, brother.”

He claps a hand on my shoulder and leans close.

“Prepare then. I have a feeling you’re about to get tested.”

I turn to look at him but he’s already walking away, passing Ouray who is heading in this direction.

“Good trip?”

“Yeah.”

“Get your head straight?”

I drop my head and groan. What the fuck is this with everyone up in my business? The good mood I was in when I sat down for a beer, after that long drive, is fading fast.

“What the fuck do you want?”

I throw him a pissed glare when I hear him chuckle.

“Plumbing problem that needs fixin’ before the dinner rush.”

“Here?” I ask hopefully, but the feeling in my gut tells me I won’t get off that easy.

“At the Backyard.”

“Send Wapi.”

I turn back to my beer and take a hefty swig.

“No can do,” Ouray says, humor in his voice. “He’s off to Farmington, picking up some parts Brick needs for tomorrow.” He lifts a hand when I open my mouth. “And I’m not about to call a fucking plumber when you can do it. Can’t avoid the woman forever, brother. Time to man up.”

Oh, I’ll man up all right. That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

CHAPTER 2

Sophia

OF COURSE THIS would happen today.

The one day Wapi is not available to help out.

I should’ve just called a plumber, but I was trying to save money and figured he’d probably be by anyway at some point.

I was wrong, and now is on his way here, according to Ouray.

“Sophia? Do we have a separate gluten-free menu?”

“Yes, check the shelf under the register.”

Today is also Mandy’s first day on the job. She’s the friend Bernie mentioned last week and happened to be available on pretty short notice. A bit of luck seeing as I’ve been going nuts plugging holes on my schedule, mostly by working them myself. I would’ve just liked to have a day where I could focus on training her instead of being dragged into ten different directions again.

Right now I’m on my knees in the kitchen, soaked to the skin, trying to mop up the flood coming from the bottom of the industrial dishwasher. It’s almost six o’clock on a Saturday night—arguably the busiest night of the week—and we have no running water in the kitchen.

“I can’t work like this!”

The outburst comes from Chris Boone, our chef and barbecue guru, who has all the earmarks of a culinary prima donna. The man is an absolute god when it comes to cooking but unfortunately that attitude shines through in his personality, which leaves much to be desired. Already in the restaurant’s short existence I’ve had to navigate several threats of mutiny by both kitchen and waitstaff.

“I have someone on the way, Chris,” I call out, but I’m pretty sure it’ll fall on deaf ears.

Can’t do anything about that, I have my hands full trying to mop up the small lake that has formed. I’m more concerned about the slipping hazard right now.

I freeze when a pair of boots stops in my line of view, splashing water every which way.

“Hey!”

“Oops, sorry, Fee.”

“The name is Sophia,” I snap, directing my eyes up Tse’s body until I meet his hazel eyes.

Damn man looks too good. Boots, ratty jeans that fit him just right, a long-sleeved white Henley under his cut, and those signature shades clinging to the tip of his nose. His beard has grown since I last saw him, streaked with silver, which only adds to his appeal.

I scramble trying to get to my feet, but slip on the slick floor.

“Whoa, careful.”

He reaches out and I reluctantly grab hold, retrieving my hand the moment I’m solid on my feet.

“The dishwasher’s leaking.”

“I can see that. You’re wet.”

Of course he would point that out. Not that it’s hard to notice, my favorite linen pants are plastered to my legs and I do a quick check to make