Page 8 of Stone

“That’s why I came?—”

“Hold up, Britta,” Mav interjected, his eyes directed at the door to his office.

Whiskey—our sergeant at arms—and two other enforcers, Racer and Hunter, walked in and joined Deviant at the table.

Fox braced his feet apart and crossed his arms over his chest in an intimidating stance. However, he softened it by smiling encouragingly at Britta. “What’s going on, B?”

I scowled at his use of a nickname for my woman but now wasn’t the time to address it. Especially not when she described what she found at her apartment only a few hours ago.

Fox’s face twisted with rage, and I had a feeling I knew why. The fury was burning in my gut, and if Britta hadn’t been there, I’d have been swearing up a blue streak and putting my fist through a wall.

Fox pivoted to face the table where the other guys sat. “Deviant, focus on finding Marylin.”

“Why don’t I put Grey on Marilyn so I can focus on the…other thing?”

Fox nodded. “Marylin is the priority, so if Grey isn’t available?—”

“On it,” Deviant replied, already out of his seat and headed for the door.

I felt Britta’s relief in her posture as she watched him leave. She didn’t know many of us, but she knew Deviant’s role since he’d been integral to her relocation.

Prez was still barking orders to the other when Britta whispered, “Who is Grey?”

“A tech genius who belongs to the Silver Saints MC. Fox’s and Maverick’s old ladies are the president’s daughters, so we have a close alliance with them.”

Everyone but Maverick left the office, and Fox turned his attention back to me and Britta. “Get B settled in your room. Gonna have a talk with King,”—King was the road name for Connor Kingsley, who had taken over as president of the Hounds of Hellfire when the last guy retired—”and we’ll meet in your office in half an hour.”

Letting the nickname thing go again…for now, I nodded and climbed to my feet before holding out my hand to help Britta up.

“I’ll send Molly to you just before the meeting,” Maverick offered. “She can take her to get something to eat and show her around a little.”

“Thank you,” Britta answered as I led her toward the door.

We walked toward the back of the building, where several rooms belonged to members or were empty for anyone who needed to crash at the clubhouse.

The entire second floor was also rooms, but I’d chosen one on the ground floor. It wasn’t far from my office, whichwas convenient when I needed to work late. Something that happened more than I liked since I was the club’s lawyer.

With the number of clients our various club-owned businesses had, I was often bogged down by contracts. Then there was the legal shit involved in keeping my brothers out of jail or defending them if needed. And a staggering amount of paperwork came with owning the majority of a town.

Unlike a lot of clubs, the Iron Rogues had a very small compound that only had the clubhouse, some wooded areas, and The Room. It was hidden on the outskirts of town. Rather than building a fortress, we owned 90 percent of the land and businesses in Old Bridge. Anyone who lived within the town limits was a member, family member, or basically had to be approved by the MC.

Owning all the businesses and rental properties was enough to keep me busy, but I also handled the legal side of selling empty houses or lots to patched members who didn’t want to live in the clubhouse. That had become much more frequent since so many of my brothers had claimed old ladies and started families.

“My office,” I murmured to Britta, pointing at a closed door. Britta had a lot to learn about life in an MC, so I figured I might as well start right away.

We reached my room, and I unlocked it before ushering her inside. Then I pulled her into my arms and stared down at her. “You’re my priority, baby. Always. You need anything, you come to me. Don’t ever feel like you’re interrupting or unwelcome.”

Britta smiled warmly, her beautiful green eyes nearly making me forget what I’d been about to say.

“But there will be shit that I’m not allowed to share with you. Sometimes I’ll come out to talk to you rather than letting you in.”

She nodded, and I was relieved when her expression held acceptance rather than anger.

“In private, you can argue with me, yell, throw things, whatever. Even around my brothers, to a certain extent. But in front of prospects or other visitors, we have to keep up appearances, so you’ll have to do as I say without question.”

She stared at me thoughtfully for a second, then her expression turned cheeky and she asked, “But when we’re alone, I can scream at you?”

I laughed and brushed a kiss over her mouth before whispering in her ear, “Baby, you’ll definitely be screaming when we’re alone. For a whole different reason.”

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