Page 29 of Ginger

I felt KiKi's foot press against mine under the table, a silent plea for help. I cleared my throat. "Maybe this isn't the best place to discuss family matters."

Vegas’ attention swiveled to me. "You're right. Which brings me to the other reason I'm here." He paused, his gaze intensifying. "Those men who came looking for you? They're back."

My stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

"They approached one of our prospects last night, offering money for information about you. A lot of money." He took another swallow of his coffee. “They mostly wanted to know when you’d be alone, and when you’d leave the clubhouse.”

Bronx pushed away from his table and came to stand behind me, his hand resting possessively on my shoulder. "What did the prospect do?"

"Told them to fuck off, naturally," Vegas said. "But they'll try again. They're not giving up."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "What do they want from me? I mean, I know what they say they want, but there has to be more to it, right?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Vegas replied, his eyes never leaving mine. "Because men don't offer that kind of cash unless they're desperate."

The café suddenly felt too small, too exposed. Through the window, I could still see that black SUV parked across the street. Had it been there when we arrived? I couldn't remember.

"I don't know what they want," I whispered.

Vegas leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Then we have a problem. Because I don't allow problems I don't understand in my club."

"She's with us," Bronx stated firmly, his fingers tightening on my shoulder. "That makes her club business too."

Vegas’ eyebrow raised slightly. “Seems like you think you make the rules.”

“You accepted me as their old lady,” I said. “Are you taking it back now?”

Vegas sighed. “No. I just need to settle at least one issue. KiKi’s pregnancy seemed to be the easiest one to tackle. But if she’s not going to talk, then that puts you on my radar.”

The air between us crackled with tension. KiKi's eyes were wide, pleading silently with me not to say anything.

"I think," I said carefully, "that KiKi deserves the chance to handle this her way."

Vegas’ jaw tightened. "And I think I'm the President and I call the shots."

"Let's all calm down," Miami interjected, his voice reasonable despite the hardness in his eyes. "We're in public."

I glanced around, noticing several other patrons were watching our table with undisguised interest. Great. Just what we needed—an audience.

"Fine," Vegas said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "We'll discuss this back at the clubhouse. Both of you."

KiKi looked like she might be sick. "I have a doctor's appointment at eleven."

"Then we'd better make this quick," Vegas replied, standing abruptly. He tossed some bills on the table. "Breakfast is on me. Let's go."

Bronx's hand remained firmly on my shoulder. "We'll follow you."

The look Vegas gave him could have frozen hell. "Make sure you do."

As they walked out, KiKi grabbed my wrist. "I can't do this," she whispered frantically. "I can't tell him."

"You might not have a choice anymore," I said gently. "Maybe it's time."

She shook her head, panic etched across her face. "You don't understand. It's not just about me."

While she hadn’t outright told me who the father of her baby was, I’d had this gut feeling it was either Houston or Vegas. She said she’d been knocked up by Vegas once before, and she’d gotten rid of the baby before anyone found out. What if it had happened again?

Bronx leaned down between us. "Whatever you two are whispering about, save it. We need to move. I don't like that SUV across the street."

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