I wasn’t sure if she’d meant for me to hear her or not. But before I could ask about what she meant, my mother came barreling into the room.
“Morgan? Are you okay?” my mother asked, looking me over.
“I’m fine. One of the prospects went after Sully, and Jenna saved her.”
“Oh gosh, are you okay?” my mother asked, turning her attention to Jenna.
“I’m fine.” She shrunk back against the couch cushions, as if she was trying to hide from the attention.
“She’s not fine. Her lip and eye are cut, she hit her head, and her ankle is twisted. I’m worried something is broken.”
“Really, I’m okay,” Jenna insisted.
My mother moved around me and sat at Jenna’s feet. Jenna tried to protest, but when Benny Delany wanted to check you out, it was better to just suck it up until she was done hovering. Lifting the foot with the swollen ankle, my mother felt around the now-purple skin, causing Jenna to wince.
“I don’t think it’s broken, but you will need to stay off it for a few days.”
“Of course, I finally get sprung and I’ll be stuck back in my room.”
“It was only one day, Jenna,” Sully said, handing her a glass of whiskey.
“It felt like a month,” she muttered.
I studied Jenna as I continued to clean her up. I’d never really paid much attention to her other than her desire for Jude. I’d let my jealousy rule my emotions and looked only at the surface instead of trying to get to know the woman underneath.
“Thank you, Jenna. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come into the kitchen,” Sully cried. “Why was he trying to take me outside?”
“Shit, I forgot that part,” Jenna said, trying to get up.
I pushed her shoulders back against the couch and asked, “What part?”
“Nathan said all he had to do was get her outside. That no one would believe a club whore over a prospect. I think he had someone outside waiting for her.”
I looked at my mother, who shook her head. “Don’t even think about it, Morgan.”
Ignoring her, I stood up and walked over to the bar. I bent down and pulled the lock box out and set it on top of the bar. I opened the lid and stared at the Glock inside.
“Morgan, no,” my mother repeated.
“I’m just going to look,” I assured her. I released the clip and confirmed it was loaded. Then I slid in the chamber and flicked off the safety.
“Ma’am, we can’t let you go outside,” Colson said, stepping in front of me.
“Vincent is on the gate, right?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
I looked at the prospect. “You have a gun, right?” I asked.
“Prospects aren’t allowed to carry in the clubhouse, Ma’am.”
“Not what I asked, Prospect,” I said with a smile and a lifted brow.
We stared at each other, and I waited for him to break first. I was the daughter of a Mob boss; I learned to outstare my opponent when I was four years old. With a heavy sigh, he answered, “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Then let’s go.” I smiled and walked toward the front door. “Peter, stay here with them,” I ordered over my shoulder. “Brian, run downstairs and tell Jude what Jenna said.” I paused and turned to look at him. “Donottell him I went outside.”
“Ma’am,” he pleaded.
