Page 62 of Duty and Desire
And most of all, how she’d taken the news from Hawk and Smithie.
She read the letter. Hawk’s call. Smithie had not liked it (and honestly, Mo didn’t either), but Hawk wanted her to understand the seriousness of the situation.
Mo knew she’d been freaked.
Her face got a little pale, and that was it.
But he could smell it on her.
Then she listened to Smithie, and after, Hawk, total eye contact, short head nods, complete focus.
No interruptions.
No hysterics.
No backtalk.
Almost the same when he was going over things with her.
Sure, she balked at the shower gig. Sleeping in her room. He got that. It was an intimacy and invasion of privacy she wasn’t ready for.
She still didn’t give him shit and make him spend half an hour explaining precisely why he knew what he was doing, and she had to listen to him.
And she’d agreed not to bring in Eddie or Lee and his boys.
This, Mo knew, was to protect them. Those men had lived through a lot while claiming their women. Car bombings. Kidnappings. One of their women shot. Another one raped.
There’d been peace for a few years. They’d had weddings. Made babies.
It was all copasetic, or as much of that as it could be with Rock Chicks in the mix.
They’d go apeshit at that letter.
And Lottie knew it.
So she agreed immediately to protecting them by keeping them in the dark.
It was the smart call.
But for her, it was more the loving one.
Charlotte McAlister was a class act. Funny. Smart. Talented. Thoughtful. Together. Professional.
And sexyAF.
Yeah.
This job was totally going to be torture.
“Jorge, other side,” Hawk said in his ear and Mo turned his head to look at his boss who was standing behind him. Mo was unconcerned and unsurprised Hawk got the drop on him. If the man wanted to, he moved like a ghost. “Need you a minute.”
Mo only left his place to follow Hawk when he looked across the stage to see Hawk’s second in command, Jorge, standing there.
Jorge was not watching Lottie, his attention was on the crowd.
This was good.
Mo trailed Hawk as he walked down the back hall past the dancers’ dressing room to the end where there was a door to the back. Quieter there, but you could still hear the music.
