Duke(69)
“So we can talk?”
“That’s the plan.”
“You’re a pimp?”
Duke closed his eyes a few seconds, opened them, and said, “I won’t lie. If you don’t want the responsibility of the answer, don’t ask the question.”
“Find a way to answer it, Duke. I’m not making any promises.”
“We take care of our girls, we don’t just pimp them out. We don’t recruit, we take on the women who are going to do it anyway, and we give them a safe working environment. No one roughs up our girls ‘cause they know they’ll get it back tenfold.”
Gen sat on her living room sofa, stunned he’d admitted it.
“We haven’t started yet. We’re just getting things lined up. I voted against, but I lost, so I put someone in charge, told him to line up a doctor who’ll do the regular bloodwork and take care of birth control pills or IUD’s or whatever, and insisted we do this high class, not skeezy. We have a dozen women ready to start this weekend, but someone talked because two of them were beat up by their current manager.”
Gen stood and looked out the window as she gathered her thoughts, and kept her back to him as she said, “So, the pimps are fighting over the women, and the women are being treated as objects in every way possible.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t hurt them. We provided a doctor, and have them in a safe house while they recover. I have my most compassionate people guarding them, so they’ll have water when they’re thirsty, someone to help them when they need it.”
“Why did you put my car in the garage?”
“It isn’t immediately obvious if you’re home. The bedroom is in the back of the house, and your car stays in your garage. I wanted it hidden at the compound, too, so no one could verify for sure where you were.” He sighed. “If you ever want out, just call whoever’s in the control room, ask them to open the door so you can leave.”
“And I have to trust your promise they will? Not easy for me to do after you held me and wouldn’t let me leave the other day. This tells me I can leave as long as you’re okay with my leaving, but I’m trapped if you decide I need to stay.”
“I’d like to say you’re wrong, but if I feel you’re in danger I can’t promise I won’t use whatever advantage I have in order to keep you safe.”
Gen turned back to him, and he pulled her into his arms. “Go upstairs and get a shower, change into something more comfortable. I’ll look and see what Amy’s left in your refrigerator, look over her notes, and figure out how to turn it into dinner. You want wine or beer?”
“Rum and Coke.”
He chuckled, but then touched her face, his eyes serious, questioning. “Are we good?”
“I can’t answer that right now, Duke. I’m still processing everything.”
* * * *
Gen only had one rum and Coke, and she noted several times how easy conversation was for them.
If she was smart, she’d cut him loose, but they worked so darned well together. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to walk away.
And she knew he’d keep trying to convince her to come back to him, if she tried to break it off.
She thought back to what Abbott had said about the difference in a pack and the motorcycle club, and she asked, “How often do votes not go your way?”
His eyebrows drew together and he asked, “That’s an odd question. Why do you ask?”
“I know they voted against you about my gun, and then they voted against you for this other thing. It seems to me, being the club president should give you more oomph, so you can get stuff important to you to go your way.”
“Sometimes it does, other times it can make things more difficult. I get one vote, just like everyone else.” He contemplated her a few seconds and asked, “What is it you really want to know, Gen?”
She shook her head. “So many questions going through my head, but I don’t think I want the answers.” She motioned towards his plate. “Do you want more?”
He shook his head. “I want you, but I want to be sure we’ve talked about everything before I take you upstairs and ravage you.”
She smiled. “Ravage me?”
“Beautiful, I’m going to show you more of who I really am, tonight. If it gets to be too much, I need you to tell me, okay? Don’t just tell me no, tell me you can’t handle it, explain what you’re having a problem with.”
Okay, so maybe there was at least one question she had to ask, even if she didn’t want to hear the answer. “I’m assuming you had prostitutes in Atlanta, and that’s why the club wants to do it here, too.”