She shuddered, thinking about where that had gotten him.
Tool dropped her bag onto the chair, but he didn’t leave. Brandi’s breath hitched. She knew how this worked.
She removed the sling supporting her injured arm and reached for the buttons of her blouse.
“Do you want me on the bed or the floor?” she asked, voice flat.
Tool turned sharply, his brows furrowing. “What the hell are you doing? Stop that. Button your damn shirt up.”
Brandi froze. “I thought you…” Her voice cracked, tears rising fast. For the first time, she didn’t know what was expected of her.
She had no skills. No safety net. Fiddler had uncovered that her family had never gained citizenship. She had no visa, no real reason for the government not to deport her back to Romania.
Panic clawed at her throat. “If I’m not here to service you, then why am I here?”
Tool exhaled harshly, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Service me? Where do you get this shit from?”
“I’ve only been with one man willingly,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “That was Wick. But Mischa said I was there to service him and his friends.”
Tool’s entire body went rigid. His eyes darkened, his fists clenching. “I really don’t want to know about you and my brother.” His voice was gritted steel. “And I can’t kill that fucker twice, so let’s not talk about Mischa again.”
Brandi swallowed hard.
Tool let out a slow breath. “You’re staying here at the clubhouse. Gypsy knows. You proved you could be trusted. This gives you time to figure things out.”
He pulled a phone from his pocket and handed it to her. “My number’s in there. So is Gypsy’s. If you need anything, you call. And only us.”
Then he handed her an envelope thick with cash.
She stared at it. “What’s this for?”
“You need money to get by.” He shrugged. “When things settle, we’ll help you get on your feet—if that’s what you want.”
She hesitated before taking it.
Tool’s gaze softened just a fraction. “You made some bad fucking choices. But you did what you had to do to get free. And in the end, you stood up for yourself.” He stepped back, tossingher sling onto the chair. “This room’s got its own bathroom. It’s stocked.”
Brandi nodded. “Okay.”
He turned, heading for the door.
“Tool?”
He stopped.
She hesitated, then muttered, “Thanks.”
He said nothing. Just nodded once before walking out, pulling the door closed behind him.
Brandi exhaled slowly.
“Brandi.”
Shaking herself, she turned toward the door. “What?”
“Screw this.”
Before she could react, Tool was on her, his grip tight as he yanked her forward. Then his mouth crashed against hers, stealing the breath straight from her lungs.
