She’d toss her bag in the car and ride back with Gypsy.Layla could figure her own damn shit out.If she had to, Gypsy could leave someone behind to deal with her.But that someone sure as hell wasn’t going to be Quinn.
A sharp knock at the door made her freeze. An uneasy feeling slithered down her spine.
How well did Gypsy really knowTailor and his men?Were they like theGypsy Kingsor more like those Bone-whatever assholes from the pub?
Halfway to the door, she remembered the9mm Gypsy had given her.Backtracking, she retrieved it from her bag, the cold steel heavy in her grip.Straightening her shoulders, she reminded herselfwho the hell she was.
She wasn’t some scared little girl. She was the wife of a club president. Time toact like it.
Keeping the chain on the door, she eased it open, the gun hanging loosely at her side. Three men stood in the dim hallway.Tailor and two others.
“Something wrong?”she asked, voice steady.
“No,” Tailor said smoothly. “Wanted to introduce you to these guys.” He gestured to the men behind him. “This is Trick and Pierce. They’ll be posted on this floor, making sure you’re secured.”
Quinn narrowed her eyes.“You make it sound like I can’t leave my room.”
Tailor stepped in closer, his dark gaze locking onto hers. His voice dropped.“I’d suggest you stay put until your husband arrives.”
Quinn clenched her jaw, the weight of the gun solid in her grip.
Tailor’s eyes flicked down. A slow smirk spread across his face.“Might wanna take the safety off, doll.”
Quinn slammed the door in his face. Laughter echoed from the hallway. She muttered under her breath,“Assholes. Every damn one of them.”
Chapter Thirteen
Brandi walkedover to the window, letting out an exasperated breath. This was a mess—one that, somehow, would end up on her slender shoulders. It always did.
Light rain fell against the glass, reflecting exactly how she felt. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe it was time to be honest with herself. There was nothing for her in Lampsing.
Hell, not one of the other ladies had even asked to room with her. That said enough, didn’t it? She wasn’t anole lady.
A flash of lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the room for a brief second. Brandi swallowed the lump in her throat, refusing to throw herself a pity party. But as the rain picked up, she couldn’t help but worry about the guys on the road.
Just another thing to add to her list. Then there wasTool.
He was too worried about what his brothers thought to everreallyclaim her. Sure, she was good enough to sleep with on the down-low—hell, even thinking that made her stomach churn. Shehatedhow that sounded, how it made her feel.
But it was the truth, wasn’t it? They were grown men. So why wasshethe one suffering because of Tool’s loyalty and dedication to them?
Moving away from the window, she sank onto the bed, letting the quiet settle around her. The silence was suffocating. Silent tears dripped off her chin as she buried her face in the pillow.
Her life was falling apart, and she had no one she felt she could turn to. There had been a time when she thought she could be stronger—surer of herself. She had wanted to be a woman who was fearless. A woman who felt sexy and strong. Right now, she just feltsmall. Weak. Lost.
She closed her eyes, wishing for something—anything—to change. Frustration clawed at her, and before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed her phone and texted Quinn.
Brandi:Hey.
A few seconds passed before her screen lit up.
Quinn:How are you?
Brandi:Not good. I’m gonna find a way back to Lampsing in the morning.
Quinn read Brandi’s text and immediately wished she had roomed with her instead of Layla. She quickly typed a message to Echo, adding Brandi to the group chat.
Quinn:Echo, Brandi wants to head home alone in the morning.
