Man of the House(162)

I had a knot in my stomach the size of Texas. Clutch didn’t know it yet, but I was going to meet Jetter at the clubhouse later that night. I didn’t feel like telling him what was going down later on, since he really didn’t need to know.

But I wished I could talk to him about it. Maybe he wasn’t the subtlest guy in the world, but at least he seemed to give a shit about me. He’d be able to offer advice or at least a comforting grunt or two.

Instead, he was making it fucking clear that he didn’t support this and wasn’t going to. Fine, he didn’t need to support it, but he at least should have been trying to help make this easier on me. This decision was hard enough without Clutch giving me shit for it, giving me those looks, making me rethink everything.

I didn’t realize that he had the power to make me reconsider my decision, but as I kept thinking about that kiss, about the dream I’d had about him, I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t tell what it meant, if I cared about him or if I just wanted to feel his hands against my body, slowly stripping my clothes.

And I had no real way of knowing, not anymore. I couldn’t just walk out there and strip off his clothes, or maybe let him strip off mine. I wanted to. I wanted to let him do all the dirty things he’d promised he could do. I believed that he could make my body feel incredible, do things to me that I’d only ever dreamed about, especially after that kiss.

But we were way past that now. We’d had our chance the night before, but I had backed down. I could have given myself to him, or at least let him take me, but I had stopped it just before that had happened.

Maybe that was a mistake. Hell, it probably was, but there was no going back now. I wanted it, but I shouldn’t.

After a few hours, I eventually changed into clean clothes and went back out into the living room.

And laughed at what I saw.

Clutch’s feet were kicked up on the coffee table, and he was fast asleep.

I stared at him, grinning. I went into the kitchen, got two pans, and snuck up behind him.

I banged those things together as loudly as I could.

He jumped up, startled and grunting. He reached for his gun and almost drew it out until he noticed me laughing my ass off.

“The hell you doing?” he asked, annoyed.

“Just waking my bodyguard up.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

I laughed again, shaking my head. “You’re the worst bodyguard. Anyone could have come in here.”

“You could have gotten shot.”

“You were sleeping!”

He shrugged. “You can’t prove it.”

I shook my head again, smiling big. “Come on. Take me to the club.”

He grumbled but complied, getting his stuff.

I smiled to myself the whole way back to the clubhouse.



We stood outside the front door and Clutch looked at me. “You okay?” he asked.

“I’m about to meet Jetter for the first time.”

He stared at me, unmoving. “Really.”

“Yeah.” I looked up at his rough, handsome face. “I’m nervous.”

He nodded. “I’m here. You’ll be fine.”

I bit my lip and nodded once. I wanted to say something else, but instead I walked into the clubhouse, Clutch just behind me.

The place was still crowded. I went right back to my dad’s office and knocked, Clutch coming along with me.

“Come in,” Dad called from inside.

I walked inside. “Hi, Janine,” he said. “Clutch.”

“Hi, Dad. Where is he?”

“The council room.” He looked at Clutch. “You mind waiting outside for us?”

Clutch nodded, looked at me for a second, and then left.

“How’s he been?” Dad asked.

“Great.” I paused. “Can we just get this over with?”

“Of course.” He stood up, and we exited through a side door and down a long hallway. We paused outside a large wooden door. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“Let’s go,” I said.

He nodded and pushed the door open.

The council’s room looked a lot like an office’s conference room, if offices had guns and deer heads mounted on the walls. The Demons patch, a horned skull, was etched into a long, wooden table.

Sitting at that table were four men. I recognized Stonewall and Reggie, and I assumed the other two were Jetter and his guy.

The four of them stood up.

“Janine,” Dad said, “this is Jetter.”

Jetter walked around the table, smiling at me. “Well, hello, Janine,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He had slicked-back, black hair and a crafty smile. Instantly I didn’t trust him and didn’t like him, but I sucked in a breath, steadying myself. It wouldn’t help if I couldn’t even stand to meet the guy once.