Page 65 of Royal Sons MC

"You don't understand. I honestly thought I'd never see Tiana again," she whispered, staring down at the phone.

"If King says you're his, you can bet your sweet ass he'll make sure you and yours are safe. Don't fuck him over," Mack said. "You hungry now?"

Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten anything real in days—coffee and donuts, not counting. "I am, actually. What do you have in mind?" She shook her head. Maybe that was why her entire frame felt as though an electrical wire was hooked up to it.

Mack stood up. "Come on, the guys will be back shortly. Let's go see what we can rustle up in bulk for them."

Ayesha froze on the top step. Her mind conjured up a biker's party and all the things she'd seen on shows like Sons of Anarchy. Mack turned back around.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"I don't know what's expected of me?" Her sister was only sixteen and, god willing, still a virgin. Ayesha would do a lot for her sister's safe return but whore herself out...god she didn't think she could do that.

Mack tossed her head back and laughed. "Oh lord, the look you have on your face. Do you think you're the dessert? Honey, trust me, ain't nobody gonna expect you to be lying on the table with food on your naked body for the sampling. Or whatever else is running through that mind of yours. I'm sure the guys wouldn't object if you want to do that. However, I think a few ole' ladies might get a little pissed if you did it when they weren't here." Mack's eyes glinted with laughter.

"Am I that transparent?" She pressed her palms to her cheeks.

"Yeah, you are. But that's a good thing. It means you're not a mercenary hoe that I'll have to cut one day." Mack turned around and sauntered toward the clubhouse, leaving Ayesha to stare at her back.

"Shit, did she just threaten to cut me?"

"Yep, and she's really good with a knife," Duke answered.

Ayesha didn't yelp at the deep voice behind her, which she felt deserved a pat on the back. Instead, she raised her hand, giving King's brother the middle finger.

"You're gonna fit in just fine, girl," Duke called after her.

Did she want to fit in just fine? All her female parts said yes. Who was she kidding? Every fiber of her being said yes. Following Mack to the clubhouse and whatever waited there, she couldn't wait to see her sister and, if she were being totally honest, King.

Mack stood inside the door, her toe tapping the concrete floor. "Alright, I'm not a Cordon bleu chef, but I make a mean spaghetti and meatballs. How about you? What's your specialty?" Mack asked. The door leading to a room she assumed must be the kitchen swung closed, making whatever she said next too low for Ayesha to hear.

She looked around the clubhouse. It looked less seedy in the light of day than it had that night. Oh, it was still intimidating, but now that it was filled with a lot of men who lived by their own set of rules and women who had very little clothing on, it appeared like any other bar she'd been to. Well, not any bar, she corrected when she spied the raised dais with the metal poles meant for something other than holding the ceiling up.

"You know how to use one of those?" Mack whispered near her ear.

Ayesha shivered at the thought of getting up on the stage and shimming around the pole in front of a bar full of men. She wouldn't admit to the other woman that she'd taken a pole dancing class. A class she'd excelled at. Nope, her lips were sealed. "Um, the kitchen?" she asked, turning away from the poles and the thought of showing King her skills.

"I asked if you had any culinary skills but lost you to the poles," Mack teased.

She narrowed her eyes, staring at the taller, thinner woman. Did she have the hots for King and was fucking with her. "Do you have a problem with me?" she asked, trying not to be intimidated.

Mack got in her space, looking down. "If I did, there's nobody in here to save you."

The thought that Mack had been playing nice because Duke had been within earshot made Ayesha angry again. "I don't need Duke, or King for that matter, to fight my battles, Mack."

A very unladylike snort was Mack's response.

"Listen, I thought you wanted my help making something for the guys to eat, but if you just brought me here for a girl fight, let's do it." Ayesha shoved Mack back, not willing to cower to the other girl. Her time of being bullied had ended in middle school, and those days were long gone. She may look and dress like a good girl, King's words, but she wasn't a delicate fucking flower. Living in some of LA's less-than-nice parts meant she'd learned how to take care of herself, even in a fight. No, she wasn't trained in some fancy fight school. What she knew was how to fight in the yard, where there were no rules. If Mack wanted to see who would cry uncle first, she had better be willing to bleed.

A sly grin split Mack's face. If she'd thought Ayesha was a girl who wasn't used to the streets, she was in for a rude awakening. When Mack swung, Ayesha was ready, dodging the fist aimed at her face. With speed and the need to teach Mack some manners, she jabbed Mack in the stomach with her left fist, hitting her where the woman's belly button was, following up with a quick uppercut with her right. Instead of pausing, she let her fists fly, not giving Mack a chance to hit back. Mack's hands went up, trying to block Ayesha's punches, her cry of alarm not fazing Ayesha at all.

Ayesha followed her to the ground, her cries to stop going unheard by Ayesha as she straddled her torso, raining blows on her face. Hard arms came around her, lifting her away from Mack.

"Yo, Rocky, she's done. You won," Duke said.

The soundtrack to the movie began playing loudly over the speakers. "Damn, it was just getting good. You're right, though, King will be back within an hour, and I'm pretty sure he'd be pissed if his girl was sporting smashed knuckles. Mack, you're going to be in big trouble," a male voice announced over the speakers. His exaggerated drawl over several words made Duke laugh.

"Keys, you got all that on video, yeah?" Duke asked.

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