“Or leverage,” Ghost mutters, and the thought sends something dark crawling through my chest.
Cole, one of the security guys, leans forward, his expression serious. “We’ve got eyes on her place,” he says, his voice low. “Two-man rotations, day and night.”
My gaze snaps to him, the urgency of the situation sharpening my focus. “Someone there right now?”
“Yeah.”
Good.
Cole continues, “No one’s gotten close.”
I nod once, a simple acknowledgment. “Keep it that way.”
He dips his head, and the room settles again, but Diesel leans back in his chair with a slow grin, breaking the tension. “Speakin’ of Emma,” he says, his tone teasing, “barbecue’s this weekend.”
Right. The annual club barbecue. Brothers from nearby chapters riding in, music blaring, booze flowing, and chaos guaranteed.
Diesel’s grin widens. “You bringing her?”
A few guys chuckle, their eyes glinting with mischief.
Someone down the table mutters, “Better question is if Prez here is finally claiming her.”
More laughter ripples through the room, but I ignore that part completely. Instead, I take a slow drink from the coffee in front of me, the bitter taste grounding me.
“Haven’t told her about it yet,” I say, keeping my tone casual.
Ghost raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “No?”
I shake my head, my thoughts drifting. “Don’t know if she can handle it.”
A few guys laugh at that, the camaraderie lightening the atmosphere.
“She’s sweet,” someone says, a hint of admiration in their voice.
“Girl like that walks into one of our parties, she might think she stepped into hell,” another brother adds, and more laughter follows.
They aren’t wrong. Emma isn’t from this life. She doesn’t understand the chaos, the noise, the rough edges of men like us.
For a brief moment, I picture her there—standing in the middle of the clubhouse, surrounded by patched men, loud music blasting, and too much whiskey flowing.
My chest tightens in a way I don’t like.
Diesel smirks, sensing my internal struggle. “You worried she’ll run?”
I lean back in my chair, locking eyes with him, my expression hardening. “No.”
That part I’m sure about. Emma might be soft, but she’s not weak.
“I’m worried,” I say slowly, “she won’t understand what she’s walking into.”
The room quiets slightly, the levity evaporating as my words hang in the air.
Then Ghost shrugs, the tension easing back into a manageable weight. “Only one way to find out.”
Maybe. But the thought of those rival bastards knowing she’s tied to me now… that changes everything.
I pick up the gavel and slam it down again, the sound reverberating through the room.
