Page 17 of Hunter

“Hey, sunshine,” I greeted her first, then nodded at her boss. “Marcy.”

“Thanks for coming,” Marcy said as she nudged Sadie, who gave me a soft, shy smile.

As I approached, she held out a plastic bag with a small piece of paper inside.

“Good girl,” I praised, one corner of my mouth lifting.

“I wasn’t sure it was serious enough to go to the cops, so I didn’t want to ruin any prints.”

Marcy snorted but didn’t say a word.

“The Iron Rogues will handle it,” I said, voice low and hard.

“But—”

“They’re the authority around here, Sadie,” Marcy said with a shrug. No judgment, no hesitation. Just stating a fact. Then she looked at me sideways and smiled. “They take care of their own.”

Sadie flushed deeper, peeking up at me through her lashes. It wasn’t intentional—she had no idea how naturally seductive she was. And no clue how fucking hard it made me.

“But we’re not part of the club,” she whispered.

“I’mnot,” Marcy said with a sly grin.

“I thought women couldn’t join,” Sadie added, brows knitting.

“Not as patches,” I said. “As old ladies.”

Her sky-blue eyes widened. “That’s real? Calling them old ladies? I thought it was just something from movies or books.”

Holding her gaze, I grunted. “Claimed women are called old ladies.”

“Oh.” Her smile turned wistful before she shook her head and stepped back. “Well, I’m, um, not…I mean, I’m not claimed, so you really don’t have to?—”

“One thing at a time, sunshine,” I muttered. It was the wrong time for that conversation. But it would be happening real fucking soon.

I flipped the note over and read the words. Fury instantly whipped through me. Sharp. Blinding. Someone had threatened my girl.

“It could be for me,” Marcy offered, but she didn’t sound convinced.

“‘Them,’” I muttered, eyes still on the paper. My jaw clenched, and I raised my gaze to her face. “Piss anyone off? You or Derek?”

“No one I can think of,” she said, eyes narrowing.

I was sure it was meant for Sadie. And “them” referred to my club. Maybe it was just some loser with a crush and no balls. Or perhaps it was worse.

I dug my phone from my pocket and called my prez.

“Fox,” he answered.

“Got a problem,” I said, then gave him a quick rundown about the window and now the note.

“You install cameras?”

“Yeah.”

“How many?”

“More than one.” I didn’t know if Marcy or Sadie were aware of just how many I’d planted, so I was vague in answering.

---