Page 24 of Property of Saint

I can’t resist. “Oh, forgive me,” I say sweetly and insincerely. “It’s just that you implied…”

“Didn’t imply nothing, bitch. And I’m happy to teach you how straight I am.”

I’m surprised at the low growl that comes from Saint. “Shut the fuck up, Rat.”

Touching my head, I wonder if I’ve got a traumatic brain injury, as I’m actually enjoying myself. While not maximum strength, the painkillers have taken the edge off my aches, and it’s fun teasing these men. To be honest, I’m more relaxed in their company than I can remember being before. Maybe it’s because they don’t know the meaning of airs and graces, and there’s no need to try to impress.

The men are still laughing at my inference about Rattler’s sexual persuasion when their prez makes an appearance. His presence is such that everyone, including me, looks up at his entrance.

Bullseye scowls, looks around, then says, “If everyone has finished with the entertainment, I need you in church.”

Church.I know that’s how these types of gangs talk about their meetings. For a moment, the investigative agent inside me wonders whether I’ll be allowed in, and whether I’ll be able to get any information… before I stop myself.That’s exactly why these men don’t trust me.I’ve not even been assigned to infiltrate their club, but I’m looking at opportunities. One whiff of what’s going through my head, and I’ll be killed as easily as swatting a fly.

My very existence is a threat to them. I wonder why I’m still alive. Why they hadn’t disposed of me the second they knew who I was.

For the first time I wonder about all the briefings I’ve had concerning one-percenter motorcycle gangs, the ones which say they treat women with no respect and shoot first and ask questions after. It’s almost as if they’re giving me a chance to prove – if I can - that I could be trusted to walk away from the club and keep their secrets.

I already know one. That they’ve got a hacker that the Secret Service Cybercrime Division would be very interested in finding out about.

Fuck!As the men drain their coffees and start piling out, I think again about what I’m up against. My employers will think I’m dead if their hacker is as good as they say. If I reappear, it will be one long slog to retrieve my life. And I wouldn’t be able to do that without an explanation of who altered the records. I couldn’t hide that the Kings of Anarchy were behind it.

The Kings will already be aware of that. It seems I’ve got very little chance of staying alive. The only way I could do it was to throw everything I had ever believed into the wind and accept this way of life.Become Saint’s old lady.

No way in hell. And I don’t have that choice. Saint’s made it clear he doesn’t want me.

All I can hope is that when they kill me, they do it fast.

As the men leave the room, Saint takes my good arm gently. “Come on.” He helps me up, and in what’s now becoming a familiar dance, hands me my crutch. “Got to get you settled up in my room.” Clearly, I’m not going to be invited into their meeting, nor allowed to have free roam of their clubhouse.

I notice him raise his chin, then jerk his head in the prospect’s direction. Leaving the kitchen, I hop alongside Saint as he leads me back to the stairs. By now, I’m unsurprised when he sweeps his arm around me, lifts me, and carries me up bridal style. Back on my feet, I resume my awkward forward motion until I stop in front of his door.

After he opens it for me, I step inside, having to admit that the thought of lying down for a while after this morning’s exertions is not unattractive.

Yesterday I’d been out of it, then in pain, shock, whatever you want to call it, and I hadn’t really taken in my surroundings. Now that I do, I see a king-sized bed which looks like it’s been recently made, the sheets clean and straightened, and the pillows propped up in an attractive way. I’m certain Saint hadn’t disappeared long enough to sort it. Not only that, but everythingseems tidier, and stuff that had been lying around has now been put away.

He sees my eyes widen and smirks. “Got one of the bunnies to freshen the room up a bit.”

Bunnies, sweet butts, are names for the unfortunate women who get sucked into the MC life. Who think they’ve got no other option than to serve the members, whether on their backs or doing household tasks.

Suddenly, I feel icky at the thought of what I might have been lying in earlier. As if he can read my mind, Saint’s smirk broadens.

“You bled all over it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that wasn’t the only bodily fluid,” I murmur under my breath. But he hears me, and snorts as though I’ve said something hilarious.

There’s a knock at the door, and then the prospect enters. Saint swaps his attention from me to the prospect and points him to the comfortable-looking chair. “Heathen, sit. And you don’t move for nothing. You want a piss or shit? You get another prospect in here.”

Heathen snaps to attention, and if he’d saluted, I wouldn’t have been surprised. “Got it, VP.”

“And you,” Saint turns to me. “Lie the fuck down and get some rest.”

There are arguments worth having, and those that are not. And I need to heal, to strengthen to be able to fight them, so protesting won’t do anything to help myself. Hopefully, without looking like I’m giving in, I sit on the bed, shift up, then lie down, letting out a quiet sigh of thanks as I rest my aching head, the relief making me close my eyes.

My good arm being wrenched up and back brings me right back to reality, as does Saint handcuffing my wrist to the bedstead. “What the fuck?” Glaring at the man who’s entrappedme, I point my chin toward the prospect. “I’ve already got a jailer.”

Saint grins and leans down, whispering to me, “Can’t take risks with a woman of your training. You’d probably have him down and out in seconds.”

He’s seriously overestimating my abilities. Heathen might not yet be a fully patched member, but he’s clearly no slouch when it comes to lifting weights. His muscles bulge out of his tee, and his legs resemble tree trunks. I take it as a compliment that Saint thinks I can take him, but jangle the handcuff anyway.

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