Rake grins boyishly. “Nothing . . . yet. Just need some legal advice on something. Make some time for me, woman.”
Faye looks amused. “Come see me tomorrow.”
My brother nods and says something to her in a low tone that I can no longer hear.
“He doesn’t wanna fuck things up with you, so he’s being careful,” Tracker muses from beside me.
Thank you, Dr. Phil.
I sigh and lean my head on Tracker’s arm. “I know he cares about me. I just wish he wasn’t so . . .”
“Slutty?” Tracker adds with a wolfish grin.
I laugh, shaking my head. “No. It’s almost like he’s scared to be himself around me.”
“I think he just wants you to be proud of him and not scare you off with his bikerish ways.”
“I am proud of him,” I say, cringing when he slaps the woman’s ass as she leaves. “Okay, he can be a pig sometimes.”
Tracker’s loud laugh gets us looks from everyone in the room.
“What’s so funny?” Rake asks as he walks over and moves me away from Tracker. He sends Tracker a look that says She’s my sister, asshole.
I roll my eyes. Rake has the protective big-brother thing down pat, that’s for sure. He’s always looking out for me, always has.
Tracker raises his hands, proclaiming his innocence. “We’re just friends, man, you know I wouldn’t go there.”
“And why not?” I ask him in a sweet tone. “Is there something wrong with me?”
I put my hand on my hip, cocking it to the side, and give him a look that dares him to say anything other than how I’m one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen. I try and keep my face serious, not wanting to break out in the smile that’s threatening my lips.
Tracker tilts his head to the side, taking me in from top to bottom. “You kind of look like Rake if you squint your eyes, so yeah, no, thanks.”
He doesn’t expect the punch in the gut. “Ow! You’re strong for someone so little.”
Rake grunts. “Come on, Anna, stop bullying my brothers.”
Tracker laughs and rubs his rock-hard stomach. Like that even hurt him.
Arrow chooses that moment to walk in, and as always, he garners my full attention. I watch as he storms into the kitchen and comes out with a bottle of Scotch in one hand, a cigarette in the other.
He plops down on the couch and starts to drink straight from the bottle.
He doesn’t look up, or pay attention to anyone around him, until Faye walks over and starts to talk to him in a hushed tone. I follow behind Rake as he leads me toward a long hall, forcing myself not to look back at Arrow. We stop at a door, and he grins boyishly at me as he opens it.
“This is your room. So, you know, you always have somewhere to stay, no matter what,” he says, gesturing for me to enter. The room is bare except for a stunning black leather bed.
“It’s new,” he explains as I turn to stare at him.
“I have my own place,” I tell him, feeling confused. Growing up, we didn’t really have a house. We moved around and stayed wherever we could, couch surfing or living with our mother’s latest boyfriend. We didn’t have a stable life, or many other things that most people took for granted. We didn’t come first to our mother; the drugs did. Maybe that’s why he wants me to feel as though I have a home here? That no matter what, I’ll always have a place to go? A place where I will be welcome?
My heart warms at the sentiment, but it isn’t necessary. I am no longer that scared little girl; I am now a woman who knows how to take care of herself.
“I know you do, but you also have a place here. With me. You will never have to worry again.”
Looks like I was right.
“Rake—”
“You don’t have to call me that,” he says, not for the first time.
“I know, but it’s weird when I’m the only one calling you Adam and no one knows who the hell I’m talking about. Although I still call you Adam in my head,” I try and explain.
His laugh makes me smile. I like seeing him laugh. “It’s weird having my baby sister calling me Rake.”
I raise an eyebrow. “So you’re nicknamed after a man who lives in an immoral way and sleeps around a lot.”
I used the dictionary for that one. It says a rake is another name for a womanizer, or a libertine.
The flush that works up his neck lets me know he isn’t exactly pleased to be having this conversation with me. “Maybe I just like to . . .”
He searches fruitlessly for another reason to be called Rake.
“. . . get rid of leaves?” I suggest in a dry tone.
“You always were a smart-ass,” he says with good nature. “Fine, I like women. Sue me. I’m the perfect example of a man you shouldn’t date. Learn from it.”
“Surely there are some good men around this clubhouse . . . ?” I say casually, pretending to look around.
Like Arrow.
That’s what I really mean.
Rake’s laughter isn’t what I was expecting in response. “No one will go near you, Anna. They know you’re off-limits.”
“How would they know that?” I ask him suspiciously, my hackles rising.
“Because I told them,” he replies, unable to keep the smugness out of his tone.
My mouth drops open. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you’re my sister,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.