“Check into that FBI douche,” I say, slamming back my whiskey and setting the glass back on the counter. “But don't let him know that you're even glancing his way. The last thing we need is to bring a full investigation crashing down on our heads.”
“Got it,” Glacier says, glancing over his shoulder as the music slows and the sound of high heels echoes against the vaulted ceilings. I follow his gaze and find Mia waiting in the doorway to the common room, arms folded under her small breasts, teeth worrying at her lower lip. Just what I fucking needed tonight, more shit to deal with. “You get out of here and let us worry about that guy for now.”
“Thanks brother,” I say, slapping him once on the shoulder and heading over to where Mia stands in her red heels and black leather pants. She's a fucking looker, this one. But a looker who doesn't know how to listen to shit. “I thought I told you to take a fucking holiday?”
She flicks her eyes up to mine, pleading, begging, the fingers of her right hand reaching out and brushing down my bare arm.
“I don't have anywhere to go but here,” she whines, stepping closer to me, pushing her breasts into my chest. “And I thought you might be missing me?”
I reach down and pry her hand off, taking a step back to put some space between us. I feel a little bad for Mia, I do. She has a shitty home life and an even shitter job. But none of that's my problem, and if I don't make an example out of her, nobody here will take me seriously.
“When I said holiday, I meant vacation. Do you understand that a little better or should I write it down for you?”
“Royal,” she pleads, but a few of the guys have just walked in the front door. Word spreads quick here, so they'll know I told Mia to stay away for a while. God, I hate this shit sometimes. Things were a hell of a lot easier before I became president.
“If you were a man, I'd beat the shit out of you for disobeying me.” Mia's jaw drops and her eyes fill with tears, but I pretend I don't notice, tucking my fingers into my front pockets like I'm already bored with the conversation. “Get your ass off the compound and don't show your face here until you're pretty damn sure I've forgotten about this little incident.” I lean in closer, my lips right next to her ear. “And you better be fucking positive that I have because if I see you before then, you're out. You will not step foot anywhere near the club's property ever again.”
I stand up straight and watch as her face crumbles.
This is one of those moments where I decide to turn off my emotions. Don't need to feel anything at all for this girl right now. Mia and me, we've only slept together a handful of times, but I always thought she was the prettiest of all the leather lovers. Somebody soon's going to snatch her up as their old lady.
But that person's not going to be me.
“Sorry, love, but this is the way it has to be. Live with it or leave—permanently. Your choice.”
Mia nods once, rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms like she's cold.
“I'll go,” she says, looking up at me one more time. “But if you need me, you know where to find me?” Mia reaches out and squeezes my arm, but when I don't react, she turns and walks away with her head down.
It's odd for me to turn down a blatant invitation—especially from a girl as gorgeous as Mia—even one who blatantly refuses to listen to club law. In the past, even that wouldn't have stopped me from taking her home myself and grabbing a quickie along the way.
Lyric Rentz, what in the bloody fuck have you done to me?
When I head outside to leave for work in the morning, I find the pile of gear that Royal left here for me. There's a leather jacket, a pair of leather pants with some sort of padding or something in them, gloves, even a pair of black boots. I have no idea how he knew what sizes to get, but it all looks like it would fit.
“Asshole,” I mumble, dragging the stuff inside and dumping it on my couch. I'll return it all tomorrow during our meeting. If there was any way I thought I could get out of it then I would. But I've worked too hard for this, risked too much to blow it all now.
He knows.
That thought's been running through my head all night long, giving me nightmares that forced me up in bed with sweat running down the sides of my face. When Royal asked me point blank about Brent, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.
Damn it, Brent. What the hell are you doing?
Things weren't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to come to town for a few days and poke around, make the Wolves think they were under investigation, just to give them enough motivation to sign on with the city.
And now?
I want to scream.
But I don't. My family trained me too well. We don't let our emotions get the better of us—if we even have any at all. We keep our chins up, shoulders back and we keep pushing through with smiles plastered across our faces.