Outlaw's Vow: Grizzlies MC Romance(123)

Hell, maybe especially if it led to his bed.

But however sexy he looked, I wasn't buying it.

I wouldn't make the same mistake again. Not with another Grizzlies MC boy. Not when the wounds Roman left on my heart were still bleeding, drowning in salt.

Instead, I straightened my top, trying to make it a little less revealing in case anyone else inside wanted to throw their eyes on my cleavage.

“Thanks,” I whispered, the only curt, diplomatic answer that fit. “I don't want to be a bother. I just want to get in, talk to your President, and get out.”

“Keeping busy? We're cool with that. Come on. We don't waste anybody's time.” He held the door open for me, and I followed him in.

The place wasn't any brighter in the day light. It always looked like nighttime at the bar, where there were a couple guys drinking, staring at the counter as the neon lights behind them cast their shadowy glow.

My eyes flicked to the spot where I'd hurled the broken bottle at Roman. My heart throbbed venom through my veins. It happened weeks ago, but it might as well have been yesterday.

Why the fuck did he disappoint me? Why?

This all could've gone down so differently. I could've had a family. I could've had a life.

We headed toward a dark brown door with the Grizzlies iconic bear carved in it. Beam's heavy fist pounded the wood. The big gold rings on his fingers echoed through the clubhouse.

“It's open!” a gruff voice I vaguely remembered yelled from the other side.

Blackjack stood up as soon as we walked in. I hadn't seen him for years, and he'd become even more imposing. Long gray hair hung down his shoulders, and his cut clung to him like a vest of armor, the PRESIDENT tag stitched ominously on his chest, along with several wicked looking symbols only the club would understand.

Several seconds passed before he recognized me. “I'll be damned. You're Roman's girl. Christ, what's he done now?”

Beam's eyes bulged. Thank God we were alone so nobody else would find out my dirty little secret.

“Sally, isn't it?” Blackjck mused, remembering my name. “You're here for him, aren't you?”

“Not anymore,” I said coldly. “I'm here to talk business, Blackjack. This isn't about Roman.”

His eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head. “Grab a seat. Just you and me.”

Blackjack waved Beam outside. I sat and spilled everything, trying to focus on his face in the cramped office. It wasn't easy because my eyes kept falling to the patches on his leather. There were claws and daggers and bright red streaks that looked like droplets of blood.

Roman had similar patches and inks on his chest. But I never gave them this much attention before. They'd never frozen my blood until now.

Jesus. You were really naive when you fucked him, weren't you? These men handle life and death like it's mowing crops.

Your business is farming. Theirs is blood.

I talked, told him about the trap door, the eerie little toolbox I found in the dirt. Blackjack stared at me with his arms folded, silent as stone. When it was all over and my lips stopped moving, he leaned forward.

“You're right. This is fucking serious. You came to the right place,” Blackjack said. “I can't tell you much about what we do, but I'll say this is the first I've heard about cartel activity in our own backyard since early summer.”

I nodded. “You can come and check it out yourselves. My cousin owns the ranch too, but he's cool with you guys. Bringing you in was his idea.”

“Smart man. He's right, you know. A lot of good people will get hurt if they're allowed to operate in Redding, brothers and civilians alike.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I'll send my boys out tomorrow to check on the spider hole and make sure your perimeter's secure.”

“And what about after? Can you have men around the ranch permanently? I need to know we're safe if we're going to be letting your men ride free on our land.”

I kept thinking about Caleb. His safety came first, second, and third. If anything happened to him because of my mistakes, my oversight, I'd die. And I'd deserve it too.

He didn't answer me at first. I leaned forward, pressing my hands on the cool table.

“Blackjack, please. I need you on board. If you're coming into my home, you're going to protect it too.”

“Yeah, all right,” he growled at last. “We'll add your place to the regular patrols I have my crew do around town. We've got a lot in the balance right now. My men have a lot of obligations beyond your farm, Sally.”

“I know. I have some idea what goes on in MCs. You're not just fixing Harleys and doing charity runs.”

Blackjack's lips pulled up in a knowing smile, and then it faded just as quickly. “One more thing –

there's a chance you'll be seeing him. Roman's my Enforcer, Sergeant-at-Arms for this charter. He's the toughest sonofabitch I've got, and he's my agent in the field when I can't be there myself. You really okay with having him on your clay?”