Shelter From The Storm (The Bare Bones MC Book 6) by Layla Wolfe Page A

“Fox is still around. We haven’t completed our op yet. He’s staying with Lytton and June.”
    My arrow went wild. I had “thrown it away,” as Fox would say, and damned good thing someone had built up that earthen mound behind the bales. Or someone in the not-so-nearby town of Cottonwood would be running around like William Tell’s son.
    What the fuck? Fox was staying in the same house as June? The girl I spent hours talking to each day? And she hadn’t bothered to mention it to me? I’d told her how Fox had saved me from a ticket, although I’d left out the part about his lawyer background just in case he was entrusting me with a secret. I’d like to think so, anyway.
    I’d spoken of him in glowing tones to June. I’d even asked a few blunt questions, like was he married, but June said she’d only just met him, too. She thought he was a smoking piece of man candy, too, but being in the hitman trade made him sort of, well, undesirable. June said something about his expiration date probably coming up soon. That was true.
    But I’d seen her at least three times since then and she hadn’t mentioned Fox was living with her? I could always casually drop by there on my way to or from Leaves of Grass. I could make up some plausible story about sharing a new brainstorm I’d had, something I didn’t want to text her, like there was mold growing on some early-flowering Young Man Blue plants, so I’d moved my medicinal Dabba Doo seedlings away from them. Or the forecast called for a five degree drop in temperature, so we’d better roll the awning—
    “Pippa!” brayed Wolf. “Are you at all interested in hitting that hay bale? I’m not walking down to that berm. I’ve spent enough time crawling around behind dirt walls.”
    I didn’t know what that meant, but it was fine talk coming from a guy with Utility Belt Syndrome. Even when engaged in a sport, Wolf Glaser insisted on strapping every possible device to his belt. In addition to his quiver, an arrow puller, can opener, level, binoculars, Allen wrenches, water bottle, and a rangefinder jangled when he walked. Then again, he had made five of six bullseyes. I’d just turned a dirt wall into a porcupine.
    I was trudging back to the shooting line when I noticed June’s Jeep coming down the runway from the direction of the hangar. She kept driving off the tarmac in puffs of orange dust, heading to where our cages and scoots were parked. That traitor. I turned my back on her.
    I was surprised that Wolf came down to the berm to help me collect my wild arrows. He was harrumphing up a storm.
    “God damned bobble-headed nerd boy,” it sounded like he was muttering as he handed me an arrow. “Fucking shiznit gameboy.”
    He induced me to finally turn and look at June’s Jeep. There was Tracy, the subject of all of Wolf’s angst, and Tobias, the office manager for Leaves of Grass. He was the target of Wolf’s wrath. And I kid you not, my heart literally skipped a beat when I caught sight of Fox, leaning into the back of the Jeep to grab some bow cases.
    Fox! The focus of all of my passion! And Wolf was so self-involved he couldn’t be bothered to mention that part.
    “Yeah, yeah,” I said, whipping an arrow from Wolf’s hand. “I’m starting to think you enjoy bitching and whining about not having Tracy. She’s not that stuck on Tobias, from what I’ve seen. Why don’t you just talk with her?”
    Wolf was wide-eyed. We started back. “She isn’t? How do you know she’s not? What makes you say that?”
    I sighed. “I don’t know, just a sixth sense women have. I’ve never seen her being physically affectionate with him.”
    “But they share a bedroom at the plantation house.”
    “Well, yes, they do. But you know what? Not everyone is single when you wish they were. Talk to her! Or look, I’ll just ask her, like grade school kids.”
    Wolf clutched my arm. “No! Don’t! Wait! Yes, do! Oh, I don’t know!” He hit himself in the forehead with