Page 82 of Ruger's Rage

He scans the perimeter before his eyes lock on the figure I indicated. "Prospect!" he barks at Rookie, who's still in the yard. "Who the fuck is that?"

Rookie looks up, squinting toward the gate.

His face drains of color. "That's Kinsey."

The name sends a jolt through me.

Striker's daughter.

The woman who manipulated Rookie, who's been feeding information about the club—about me—to the man working with my ex.

She's prettier than I expected.

College girl with an edge of biker princess, expensive clothes that hint at daddy's money—daddy's blood money.

"What's she doing here?" I ask, afraid of the answer.

"Nothing good," Bloodhound mutters, already signaling to brothers positioned around the yard.

Ounce appears from the clubhouse, taking in the situation with a quick glance.

To my shock, he gives a curt nod. "We're letting her in. Someone get Ruger, now!"

"Are you fuckin’ insane?" Bloodhound challenges. "She's Striker's eyes and ears."

"Exactly," Ounce counters. "And now she's here alone, without backup. Perfect opportunity to get information straight from the source."

The gates begin to open, brothers taking strategic positions around the yard.

Kinsey revs her engine once, riding slowly onto the club’s property.

CHAPTERELEVEN

Ruger

Something soft brushes against my face, jerking me from a deep sleep.

I reach for my gun automatically, eyes snapping open.

"Jesus, relax," Bailey says, stepping back with her hands raised. "Just trying to wake you up."

I blink, disoriented, and glance at the empty space beside me. "Where's Tildie?"

Bailey's lips curl into a smirk. "Don't know. Don't care. But you need to get your ass up. Your cousin's here."

"My what?" The fog of sleep clears instantly as memories of last night slam back.

Kinsey. Striker's daughter.

"The college bitch. She's at the gate. Ounce let her in."

I swing my legs off the bed, suddenly aware I'm wearing nothing but boxers. "Get the fuck out."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Her eyes linger, the smirk still firmly in place. "Though the view's not bad."

"Bailey." My voice drops to a dangerous register. "Never step foot in my place again. My ol' lady or a fuckin' officer could've come to get me. Not you. Understand?"

Her smirk falters. "Yourol' lady? Since when?"

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