Page 26 of Desert Loyalties
That earns me a look. “That turn you on, exhibitionist?” he says, voice rough. “I’ll make sure to save the tape.”
The teasing look disappears from his face when he sees the flicker of worry on mine because he adds, quieter, “Hey. Trust me. I won’t be far. Just say, ‘orange’ and I stop the whole thing. No matter what.”
“No,” I say, firm. “Don’t. I want to help.”
It’s the same thing I said yesterday when Drake first told me the situation.
We’d just finished round two with sweat still slick on our skin, when he sat up and told me the truth. That one of the reasons he wanted me out of the clubhouse was because shit was stirring.Serious shit. The DEA was planning a raid on the clubhouse, soon. A friend gave him the heads-up.
For the first time, he let me in on club business. Old lady privileges. In the Horsemen, it’s not easy to become an old lady, so the fact that he was sharing it with me before the Ceremony, feels like an honour.
The relationships that are not backed by the club, the non-old ladies, they get some protection, respect even, but they can’t come into the clubhouse unless specifically invited, they can’t call and find out about their husbands. If a man screw around on his old lady, it is the duty of the brothers to set him right or tattle. Yet if a man cheats on his wife, it’s ignored or considered the norm.
Anyway, Drake trusted me enough that he told me that someone inside the club was feeding info to the DEA. An informant. And while the club looked legit on paper, there were still some bones, not buried deep enough, that could still rattle the walls if they got unearthed.
He wanted me away from the clubhouse, so I wouldn’t get caught up in it. But the thing is, I was already caught up. The clubhouse is my home, the only place that felt safe in my 24 years. So, I suggested a trap. If the traitor thought that they might have an ally, someone else jammed up in the drama, they might make a move. Slip up.
I said it should be me. I was an old lady, not officially, but I was in. Nobody knew how serious Drake and I were, for all they know, it was just sex.
Drake was against it. Said I was too vulnerable, too close. I said that’s exactly why it would work. I’m the only one he couldhalfway protect. And I’ve got enough ghosts in my closet to make anyone think I’m a liar.
He made the call to Ranger who was not happy that Drake told me, but he also knew that most of the brothers already tell me everything when they’re drunk enough, including Ranger himself. The only other person brought in was Micky. He had to know, had to play his part right.
Still stung when Caine jumped in to blame me so fast. Thought he was my friend. Guess not. Lehi has always been an asshole.
Now... we wait. See if the traitor took the bait.
Chapter 11
MANDRAKE
I’m walking the halls like a caged fuckin’ animal. Can’t sit, can’t breathe, sure as hell can’t think. My fists are clenched so tight my knuckles are bone-white, and I keep picturing her in that damn room, alone.
Ranger calls me into his office.
“Brother,” he says, calm as ever, “you need to chill the fuck out.”
I laugh. Bitter. Sharp. “How the fuck am I supposed to calm down when I just dropped myold ladyin the middle of a damn trap like she’s fuckin’ bait?”
“It was her plan,” he reminds me.
“That doesn’t make it better.”
He nods like he gets it, but his face doesn’t change. That dead-serious calm he always wears. “We’ve got her on camera. One sign of trouble, we storm in. You know that.”
I don’t respond. I’m not thinking straight. Every second she’s in that room; I’m fighting the urge to rip the door off its hinges and pull her out. But if I do that, if I cave, we lose everything. And the rat wins.
The door creaks open and Grim walks in.
Big bastard. Nearly seven feet tall, all broad shoulders and a stare that could freeze lava. Still moves like a soldier, even after everything. Too quiet for my liking, but I trust him more than half the men here.
He’s new, technically. Only been patched in a year. But blood matters in this life, and he'sRanger’sblood. Half-brother, same asshole dad, different women. Grim’s mom was a Russian exchange student. Ranger’s old man was fuckin’ her on the side, of course. Classic.
Ranger’s mom found out, pulled some strings, and had her sent back to Moscow before anyone even knew she was pregnant. Cold move. Can’t really blame her though.
Grim grew up in Russia. Was a goddamn soldier over there, Spetsnaz or something nastier. Two years ago, he showed up at our gates, bleeding and broken, looked like death dragged him across five continents. Didn’t speak more than five words of English. Now he speaks better, but the accent’s thick. Even asking for coffee sounds like a threat from his lips.
He gives me a look.
