Page 83 of Ruger's Rage

"Since none of your fuckin’ business. Now get the fuck out!"

She slams the door behind her, but I'm already pulling on jeans, my mind racing.

Kinsey showing up at the compound can't mean anything good.

It's either a trap or she's in trouble—neither option particularly appealing.

I grab my cut, checking the clock—9:17 AM.

It’s later than I've slept in years.

Memories of last night with Tildie flash through my mind, distracting me for a split second from the shit that’s already happening this morning.

Tildie—my woman, my ol' lady.

The title fits and it’s a decision I don't regret for a second.

The main room of the clubhouse is tense when I enter, brothers positioned strategically around the edges, hands never far from weapons.

In the center stands a young woman I've never seen before, but immediately recognize from Rookie's description.

Kinsey Callahan.

My secret cousin.

She's pretty in a hard-edged way, designer clothes and perfectly styled hair that screams money.

But what catches my attention is the ugly purple bruise blooming around her left eye.

Tildie stands near Bloodhound, both watching the newcomer with guarded expressions.

When she sees me, relief flashes across her face.

"Sorry, Prez," Ounce says, stepping forward. "Made a judgment call letting her in."

I nod once, eyes never leaving my cousin. "You got a death wish coming here?"

Kinsey raises her chin, defiance in her stance even with the fear evident in her eyes. "Depends on whether you're more like my father than people say."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

She gestures to her face. "This is what happens when you question dear old dad's plans. Thought you might be interested in hearing about them, unless you prefer to shoot the messenger."

Bloodhound shifts beside me. "Could be a setup."

"Could be," I agree. "But we're going to hear her out."

I motion toward my office. "In private."

"Fuck that," Bloodhound counters. "She doesn't get one-on-one with you."

He's right. Basic security protocol. "Fine. You, me, Ounce. And Tildie."

Surprise flickers across several faces at my inclusion of Tildie, but no one argues.

Her connection to Marco makes her involvement necessary.

Once we're settled in my office, I lean against the desk, studying the young woman before me.

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