Page 83 of Mensa's Match

“Really?”

“Yeah, he wanted me to apologize for not sharing that with you since he hadn’t been given that directive by Rod when he saw you earlier.”

“You’re not going there until this shit gets settled.”

“Now you sound like Wyatt,” I said, pushing up from the floor, grabbing my to-go box, and meandering to the kitchen.

“Whitney, you don’t need to walk into a trap from these assholes.”

I shoved my container into the garbage. “I agree, but that club can’t force me to become a shut-in.”

“Not forcing you to do that, woman.”

“Sounds a bit like it. Besides, you’ve got a prospect trailing my every move.”

He rose from the floor and tossed his beer bottle in the recycle bin. “Yeah, I’ll be tearing that prospect a new one because I should have been called the moment Wyatt sat down with you.”

“He’s my brother.”

Mensa widened his eyes. “The prospect doesn’t know that. The whole fuckin’ point of having him on you is so that I know if someone approaches you.”

I closed the distance between us and slid my hand along his t-shirt clad chest; he’d taken his cut off and hung it in the foyer closet when he came inside. “Calm down, Kenneth.”

He dipped his chin and grabbed my hand. “I’m perfectly calm, Whit. What else did your brother tell you?”

I shrugged a shoulder. “Just that the incident at the mall only spurred Rod’s determination to take me from you… so it seems you’re right on that count. He only wants me in order to fuck with you.”

“That’s not the only reason he wants you,” Mensa muttered.

I shook my head. “Whatever. He also said Iron, their president, is out of town and left Rod in charge.”

Mensa nodded. “Then he’s a bigger fuck-up, because why send prospects and a hang-around to watch Dontrell’s restaurants when he could have sent patched members?”

“He definitely has a screw loose.”

He wrapped an arm around my waist. “You done in the kitchen?”

I nodded. “Why?”

“Been a long day, I’m making us both a gin and tonic, while you cue up some music, and then it’s time to hit the bedroom.”

“Woman, why are you running those hands all over me? We both just came not ten minutes ago, but you keep this up, you’re gonna need to focus your efforts a little lower.”

Laying beside him, I stared up into his eyes. “I want to find your scar from where you got stabbed. Don’t think that little tidbit was lost on me when you confronted Rod.”

“Don’t mention that bastard’s name in bed, and the scar is on my back.”

“Roll over,” I ordered.

He laughed. “Not a chance I’m rollin’ onto my belly when you’re making me hard.” He paused. “Not unless you’re beneath me.”

I leaned up on an elbow. “I want to see your scars.”

“It’s just the one, and seriously, Whit, it’s healed. Why are you so determined to inspect it?”

I sat up. “When I love someone, I get a little overzealous when I find out they were stabbed.”

In an instant, I was on my back and he’d settled his weight on me. Mensa’s gorgeous brown eyes flashed at me. “What did you say?”

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