Page 48 of Cocky

Moose walked into the club alongside a few of his brothers with a single-minded focus: find his woman and lay a hard one on her, reinforcing that she was his and only his and he wasn’t about to let other people’s bullshit come between them.

But she wasn’t there. Wanda, the nearly elderly biker chick that Blake had hired to manage the place informed him—as her eyes openly ate him up from head to toe—that she’d sent his mouse home early for trying to spread the plague—her words, not his.

He took her meaning that Angel was sick and she didn’t want any part of it.

Concerned, he let his boys know that he wouldn’t be joining them for drinks tonight and hopped back on his bike and rode out for Angel’s apartment, needing to be sure she was all right. She’d been fine when he’d left her. What the hell had happened in those few hours?

Pulling up in front of her building ten minutes later, Moose’s frown deepened, and his concern grew. Her car was nowhere in sight.

So if she was sick enough to leave work, why wasn’t she home? Suspicion began to take root in his mind, taking him down dark paths. What if she had faked an illness? But what reason could she have to do that? Another man?

No, he thought immediately. Angel wasn’t like that. Her name matched her personality. She was sweet and innocent, not a backstabbing hussy. He could trust her as far as he could throw her, and considering her size, he’d venture that was pretty damn far.

The bike’s engine rumbled between his thighs while Moose sat staring up at the darkened windows, wracking his brain.

In a flash, like a lightbulb moment, he had his answer.

“Goddammit,” he growled, backing the bike out of the parking space and steering it back onto the road. He knew exactly where she was headed. And considering the lead she had on him, she was already knee-deep in trouble.

If he found her alive, he was going to kill her. If she was still breathing when he found her, he was gonna whip her ass good. Either way, she’d just bought herself a one-way ticket to Smackthatass Land.

twenty-three

Manuel was enjoying a nice scotch on the rocks when one of his guards appeared in the den’s archway with a scowling brunette standing behind his left shoulder.

Even having never met her before, he knew who she was immediately.

“This woman showed up at the gates demanding to speak with you.”

Manuel nodded and twitched two fingers in the air. “Let her in.”

The woman looked so much like Rena, it left no room for doubt that she must be the big sister he’d been told about.

Sitting down in the brown leather club chair across from him, she didn’t even bother trying to admire the palatial room outfitted with all the latest technology and the best furnishings and décor his money could buy like everyone else who walked through his doors. Instead, her eyes were like lasers, directed solely on him.

He admired her obvious strength, her willingness to meet him head-on, even knowing what she must about him. He had a reputation around here that was hard to outrun.

“What can I do for you, Miss Grace.”

She appeared surprised that he knew who she was. She shouldn’t be. Even if he hadn’t made the connection, he still made it his business to know the people around him. There wasn’t a person, family, or business entity that escaped his notice or knowledge. Everyone made it into his files, no stone left unturned. As the saying went: it was better to keep your enemies close, and he considered everyone his enemy. Everyone.

“You look like a smart man,” she started, which was condescending in itself, “so I’m going to speak plain. Your reputation precedes you, and I don’t want you hanging around my sister anymore.”

Wow. Crossing one knee over the other, he smirked. “I admire your directness, Miss Grace. Not even some of my closest and most familiar business partners have managed that.”

“I don’t need your niceties. I just want to hear you say you’ll cut things off with Rena. Tonight, preferably.”

“I don’t speak for your sister,” he informed her, matching her demeanor.

“Look, I understand that she’s an adult and can speak for herself. I don’t need anyone telling me that. But she has a habit of making ill-informed and irresponsible decisions that more often than not get her into trouble.”

“And you’re trying to be the good sister and steer her away from trouble. In this case, me.”

She tipped her head in agreement. “I’m glad you understand.”

“I understand. I have a daughter myself, and if she were with a man like me, I would be in the same position you are now.”

She narrowed her eyes, not entirely mismatched like her sister’s but they had a hint of color that made them just as unique. “But…”

---