Page 19 of Blue

Property sounded a lot worse than it was. It meant respect. It meant that if anyone fucked with her, they’d have to answer to Dash.

No one should want to mess with VP. He was downright scary when he wanted to be. His gray eyes went cold as ice when he got mad.

While he looked deceivingly short and stout, the guy was solid muscle. Blue had seen underneath the cut and jeans a long time ago and was impressed. Ginger was a lucky woman.

“Mine,” he said to his woman when he’d gotten a few feet from Blue.

She’d learned that was his pet name for his woman.

“This is Blue.” He gestured toward her.

Blue waved awkwardly. Could this be any more uncomfortable? Meeting the guy she used to fuck’s current girlfriend always had the potential to go nuclear.

“Blue.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “This is my ol’ lady, Ginger.”

Blue knew her. As a club slut, it was imperative for her to know the ol’ ladies and to whom they belonged. If for no other reason than to know to avoid them. However, Ginger and Blue never formally met. And they’d definitely never interacted. That would only cause problems. Bikers kept fast ass and their women separate. There was no fathomable reason she could think of for Ginger to know Blue.

Heat flourished in Blue’s cheeks. “Hey,” she said.

She hated meeting the women of the bikers. Inevitably, they doled out disgusted looks and sneers. Judgment came swiftly from the women in loftier positions.

Because Blue wasn’t an ol’ lady and hung around the club, her spot within it was very clear: club ass. The ol’ ladies knew what it meant. Hell, some of them might have held that rank at some point. Not that it meant they offered any sort of empathy or understanding to the new women. If anything, their experience made them nastier to the new ones—like the newer women were after their vest or something, because it wasn’t about the men. It was about the property vest—the status.

Unless they were home-wrecking hos—like Blue.

The warm smile on Ginger’s face showed no recognition of Blue’s role in the club.

“Hi,” she said as she extended her hand toward Blue. “It’s nice to meet you. Daniel has told me a lot about you.”

Daniel?

Blue peered at Dash quizzically.

Daniel?

There was far too much to unpack there. ButDaniel?

She blinked her false lashes, attempting to convey her questions in some sort of Morse code equivalent as she took the other woman’s hand and shook it briefly.

“Same. Dash is very fond of you.” Blue couldn’t call him Daniel.

She hated it. It didn’t suit him. Daniel. Nah. Dash fit way better.

A wry smile spread across his face while running his free hand over his beard. His other hand released Ginger’s and slid over her hip. The possessive gesture made his woman smile despite herself.

When his ol’ lady squeaked, Blue bit back a laugh, assuming he’d just grabbed her ass or slapped it. Both were Dash’s MO.

Ginger offered her man a playful glare.

“I’m aware,” she responded in the least cocky way.

Oh, the memories.

That’d been her and Mooky once—in their happier days. The days when she’d been blissfully ignorant of his true reality. It felt like forever ago, but she wished she could go back there. What she wouldn’t give to forget what she knew.

“Let’s get inside,” Dash said as he turned. In doing so, he slid an arm around Blue’s shoulders.

Uh… What? In front of his woman—this public display of affection? The fuck? Did he want to get her ass beat?

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