Page 18 of Bounty
“There might be reasons for that,” Slice responded. “Nothing wrong with partying and pussy, but a chapter needs a different sort of presence to move to the top.”
In addition to being one of the sexiest and beautiful men I’d ever met, he was a strategist. Sighing, I tilted my head and smiled at him. Thick eyelashes rivaled mine in length, surrounding deep chocolate eyes. I could stare into them for an eternity.
“We try to stay away from murder, Pretty Boy,” Striker continued. “That’s your specialty.”
The words penetrated my dreaminess. My gaze flew to Slice’s. He refused to meet my eyes. My heart went out to him and his mortification over that blatant lie, so I reclaimed his hand and squeezed it.
“He’s called Pretty Boy not only for his looks,” I said. No one else intended to speak up on his behalf. I knew about outlaw bikers. Slice might involve himself in illegal activities, but I couldn’t see him committingmurder. “He has a beautiful soul. He could nevericeanyone.”
Slice stared at me, then his gaze softened, and he leaned closer to brush his lips over mine, ignoring the titters from his brothers. “Thank you, babe.”
“You really got her fucking hooked, huh, Slice?” Striker chortled, slapping his knee as if my defense were the funniest joke in the world. “Got her good and dickmatized.”
If only.
Instead of responding to his crudity, I focused on the bigger problem: my mother’s presence.
“We have to leave,” I whispered. “My mom can’t find us here. You love working for her. I’ll be in trouble but so will you.” Any time she wanted to introduce him to Cass, she’d fire him if we were caught.
As for me, the emotional beatdown wasn’t worth it.
“You’re right.” Slice looked at Striker. “Can you call Prissy and ask how much longer before they return to the club?”
Striker shrugged.
“How about you, Desmond?” Slice asked the guy who’d first let the cat out of the bag. He sat at the bar with a line of empty beer bottles in front of him.
“They’re on the way back,” Desmond answered.
Slice scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fuck.”
The novelty of our arrival had worn off. Conversation amongst the bikers and the few women resumed.
“Forget her,” Striker ordered. “We need to talk about the trouble you’re in with Satan’s Sinners.”
“Not in front of her,” Slice snapped, nodding to me. “Effie’s a civilian.”
“Don’t give a fuck.You’rehere. If those motherfuckers happened upon you, where the fuck would that leave us? Helping to protect you, fucker. Either we go to my fucking office and leave her here or you talknow.”
Slice shot Striker a putrid look. Neither of them cared about the urgency of the situation with my mom.
“Riker went to Jackson to straighten it out,” Slice answered. He made no move to tell Striker we had to leave. “Hopefully, by this time tomorrow, shit will be cleared up.” He gave me a hesitant glance and added, “And my bounty will be paid.”
Bounty?
I squinted. What bounty and why?
Striker’s blue eyes narrowed. “Just be careful, Pretty Boy. As chapter president, I have to make sure my brothers are safe. That includes you, but I don’t want you to bring hell to our door then hightail it back to OKC and leave me with the fucking fallout.”
“I won’t,” Slice promised. “It’s handled.”
That was all I needed to hear. Moving on to the more urgent problem: We needed to leavenow.
I stood. “We have to go.”
Striker glared at Slice. “Handled, huh? You sure about that? Motherfuckers just don’t forget what the fuck you did, Pretty Boy.”
“Do you know something that I don’t, Striker?” Slice demanded, ignoring me.
