Page 95 of His Road Dog

His cheek muscled twitched. She had a gift for turning the conversation around and making him give her answers.

"His business," he said.

"And, that would be...?"

"How he makes his money." Priest lowered his voice. "The joints he gave me are the best I've had."

She rotated her shoulders. "So, buy a bag on the street corner like everyone else."

Priest studied her. Club business remained between the members. He expected his MC brothers to keep secrets from their old ladies, their kids, their friends. If he found out someone flapped their lips and betrayed the club, he'd order their punishment.

But, there were things Nicole needed to be aware of if she was going to belong to him.

"Tarkio owns the marijuana plots that produce for the Montana territory. We don't allow other growers to sell their shit within the state." He took in her lack of surprise and continued. "I can offer your dad and the people in the commune protection and a cut from the profits if they'll let me buy them out. They'll need to expand their production. It'll mean more money for them, and more money for Tarkio."

She gazed at him, not making any comment.

"I'd like you to be our key to getting back inside the commune so that I can make my offer," he said.

For several seconds, she sat in front of him and gazed at him. He tried to read what was going through her head, and she gave nothing away.

If she was naked and he had the time to make her come, she'd talk his ear off and be incapable of hiding her inner thoughts.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen." She pulled her wrists from his grasp and slid off his lap before he could stop her. "I'm not taking you to California."

"Babe, you know if I have to force you, I will." He got off the motorcycle. "It's business."

She blew out her breath and put her hands on her hips. "No, this has to do with you and me. You're not going to use me to get to my family, to everyone I love, and if that means we're done, then we're done."

He growled and stalked toward her. Picking her up, he tossed her across his shoulder and stormed in the clubhouse. She screamed his name and punched his ass with her fists. Apparently, she was against violence, only when she was standing on her feet, right side up.

The others ignored him. He hit the hallway and headed forward until he spotted a door open.

The music and loud noise from the party drowned out her screams. He stepped into an empty bedroom, kicked the door shut, and tossed her onto the bed.

One way or another, he was going to set things straight with her.

She glared. He growled.

Her chin came up. His chin came down.

"Strip," he ordered.

"No."

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