Page 11 of Cash's Treasure

“Well, you see . . . I need some financial advice.”

I nod, waiting for him to come out with it. Most of my brothers come to me for financial advice for anything from getting a loan from the club to making personal investments. I don’t see Reaper falling into either category, which only has me more intrigued.

“So, what advice do you need?”

“Well, you see, it’s about my girl. You know, Holly . . .”

“She’s a nurse, right?”

“Right,” he nods. “She wanted me to thank you for taking care of the mortgage on her house. I told her it was Priest’s way of showing his appreciation for her helping me, and she’s one of us now, but she still wants to show her gratitude. I promised I’d pass it along.

“Of course. Like you said, no thanks necessary. It was the least the club could do for her.” And it’s true. Without Holly’s intervention, who knows what would have become of Reaper. Add on what she had to endure when the boss of the man who shot Reaper figured out where he was . . . Yeah, paying off her mortgage is the least we could do for her, and as Reaper’s girl, she’s one of us now. We take care of our own.

“So, what advice do you need?” I ask, hoping to move the conversation along, but also concerned about Reaper and his girl. “Is she still struggling? I can ask Priest—”

“No, no. Without the weight of the mortgage and with me moved in, we’re doing just fine. But I was thinking, you know my job isn’t the safest. If the worst happens, I don’t want to leave Holly in the same dire straits her aunt was in when her uncle died. I want to make sure she is taken care of. So, I’ve been looking into some life insurance, but I can’t make heads or tails of any of it. I swear they’re making it complicated on purpose, and I figured you might be able to help.”

I give into the need and glance at my wristwatch, breathing out a resigned sigh when I realize it's way past the time I often show up at the bar. I haven’t seen or talked to Kayla since I left our condo, and I need to see her, but then again, I know how much it’s taken a prideful man like Reaper to ask for my help.

“The club has policies on all our top officers, including you. Of course, you know the club will take care of her should the worst happen, and I’ve already added her as a beneficiary to that policy, but it’s not a bad idea to have another one just for her. Do you have the paperwork with you?”

“I do,” he says, and we sit back down as he shows me the documents he’s talking about, and I advise him on the way forward.

I expect it to take a few minutes at best, but we spend at least an hour going through the papers and figuring out what’s best for his situation. By the time I am done, it’s nearly the end of Kayla’s shift.

I ride to the bar faster than I should, and I know if she saw me, Kayla would have something to say about it. It doesn’t matter to her how experienced I am with motorcycles, she’s just as protective of me as I am of her. The thought makes me smile, until I walk into the bar and don’t see Kayla anywhere. I am half afraid she’s given up on waiting for me and already left. I grab one of the waitresses that pass by me, and when they turn around, I realize it’s the blue-haired girl who is always by Kayla’s side whenever I come in.

“Are you looking for Kayla?” she speaks before I can.

“Yes, has she left already?” Fuck, she must be angry at me for not picking her up on time.

“Not yet,” the girl says, nodding toward the exit. “Her things are still in her locker, but I saw her just a minute ago walk out with two strange men. They were asking for Kayla by her name, so I think she knows them, but I don’t remember seeing them around before.”

Two strange men.

Those are the only words I need to hear before I am rushing back out the door, my eyes looking around frantically until a high-pitched shriek has me running toward the dark alley next to the bar.

“What? You’re not happy to see us?” I catch a voice before another adds, “We’ve looking everywhere for our little sister, and this is the thanks we get for caring.”

My blood is boiling by the time I make it to the alley, but it quickly turns ice cold when I find Kayla backed against the wall with one of the two men holding her in place. The rage that rockets through me has me coming fist first at the men for so much as daring to touch what is mine. I start with the man holding Kayla, grabbing his collar and thrusting my clenched fist into his ugly mug. He drops to the ground with a cry, but my focus is already on the shorter man, who a few seconds ago was antagonizing Kayla.

“Woah, what the fuck—” He cries out when I grab him by his sweater, ready to wipe his very existence off the face of the earth when Kayla grabs my arm, stopping me.

“D-don’t hit him,” she pleads shakily, pulling at my arm, but I can’t shake the red rage clouding my vision. Just the thought of these men touching . . . hurting . . . scaring the love of my life is enough for me to want to end theirs, but I don’t miss the desperation in Kayla’s voice.

For the first time since meeting her, I wish that saying no to her wasn’t so impossible.

“If you come close to Kayla again, I will kill you.” It’s not an empty threat, and from the way the shorter man’s eyes flash with fear, I can tell he takes my words to heart. “I won’t stop next time,” I growl, kicking the man's shin just for the hell of it. It’s petty of me, but the fact that I couldn’t even punch him only makes me angrier.

He limps away, leaving behind his sobbing companion, who quickly gets to his feet when I flash him a glare and disappears into the night as well, leaving me and Kayla behind.

“Cash—”

“Are those the same men you were hiding from last night?” I ask roughly, trying and failing to control my emotions.

“Yes,” Kayla whispers quietly beside me, and I want to draw her into my arms, comfort her, and tell her that I will always protect her, but for the life of me, I can’t bring myself to do that. I am angry, livid. The memory of some other man touching and threatening what’s mine is bad enough, but I am also mad at myself.

If only I’d shown up on time, then no one would have dared lay a finger on her. I would have broken all ten before they touched her, but I was late . . .

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