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

his palm.
    “Hi, Wolf!” called Tracy, waving. She had a down-to-earth Midwestern wholesomeness to her, and I could see her appeal.
    I elbowed Wolf. “See?” I whispered, before going off to do some charming of my own.
    “You’re still here,” I stated. Fox was at a picnic table taking a tube of bowstring wax from the bow case, probably Lytton’s.
    He looked sideways at me and grinned, but didn’t stop his work. “I’m still here,” he agreed affably. I liked the way he put his boot on the bench to prop his bow while he waxed. “Not done with my job yet.”
    “Your job…doing the same thing Santiago Slayer does?”
    Now he looked at me. Assessing, sizing me up. As if wondering how much to entrust me with. What the hell. I was just a lowly pot store employee. He must’ve decided I was too lowly to be dangerous. “Not this time, not really. We’re just checking up on your rivals, the Ochoas.”
    “Oh, the ones with that godawful Mi Manera weed? People like it because it’s so damned cheap, but we don’t tell them how many pesticides the Ochoas spray on it.”
    He laughed sunnily. He was even more handsome when he was relaxed like this, looking forward to some good shooting. “Well, they’ve been riding us lately, so we’re hitting back. I wouldn’t look forward to any more Ochoa pot in your store.”
    I wanted to talk about more than pot, but I had to at least let him shoot a few rounds before asking my questions. He was a sight to behold, all muscles and sinew, with the string drawn fully back. I took some surreptitious pictures of his back, then I became sad when I realized I had no one to send them to. Oh. Madison . I sent the photo to her, and typed:
    Does anyone know who he is and where he came from? I’m dying over here. <3
    I grinned. That’d get her attention. Sure enough, she instantly texted back:
    Ford probably knows, but he’d never tell me. I know Fox lives in Nogales, so he must work for beaners. Or a club that deals with beaners. He is one smoking hot cool drink of water.
    PIPPA: Whores and metaphors don’t mix. :)
    Nogales. That told me approximately nothing. I vowed to discover more. I just wanted a cheap roll in the hay with him, but still, it’d be nice to know who I was rolling with.
    After he’d shot—expertly, of course—a few rounds, I went up to him.
    “Fox.” He’d know I was serious because I used his name. “I have a sort of sensitive question to ask you.”
    “Oh yeah? Shoot.”
    “Can we go over there?” I waved toward a shed of some kind.
    “Sure.”
    He hung his bow on the rack and we walked to the shed. “Wolf sure is chatting up Tracy,” I said mischievously.
    “Is that the girl he’s always going on about? And she’s with that bowl-headed dork? I’d say he could get up on that.”
    “I’d say so, too. Although Tobias does have quite the personality. He’s a tech genius and does all the surveillance for the Bones.”
    “Is that so? Then I might have need of him.”
    “Yeah. If you want to put a tracker on anyone or look up their cell records, that sort of thing. He’s your man.” We went behind the shadow side of the shed. With a slightly creepy shudder I realized the sign over the door said UXO STORAGE . That was nice of the army to put the unexploded ordnance far away from the hangar.
    I folded my hands in front of my skirt. “Fox, I’ve got a sister. Now I’m going to trust you on this. Can I trust you not to tell another living soul? Not even Ford or Lytton?”
    He seemed mystified enough to promise anything, so of course he nodded. “Sure thing, Pippa. If I couldn’t keep a secret, I’d be out of a job.”
    “Good. Because my life literally depends on it.”
    Not only did he nod again, he took my shoulders in his hands. He sort of bent at the knees to look me in the eye. “You can rely on me.”
    I was so stunned at his touch, my dilemma with Shelda temporarily took wings and flew into the stratosphere. But he took his hot palms