The shorter fellow wore casual pants and a striped polo shirt. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “As long as the old man lives we risk going down for the murder, especially since there’s still a living witness.”
“The old lady kept her mouth shut, and as long as we keep paying her, we’re good. The problem is if Clotille doesn’t go back to Frederick. Then he’ll cut me off which means you’re off the payroll. We can’t risk losing the money. When I get a hold of Clotille, she better get her ass back or else I’ll take away the one thing she loves the most. She had an agreement and she’s fucking blown it.”
“And if we can’t pay the old woman, then her memory will miraculously come back. You watch and see.”
The taller guy walked behind his desk and sat down on his buttery Italian leather chair. “I’m not going to wait to see if that happens. I’ll have to take care of everything because you’re a dumbass and Clotille’s a fuckup. I should’ve had Rock killed when he was in prison.”
“Let’s just deal with one thing at a time. The most important thing right now is getting Clotille to go back to Frederick. If that link’s gone, the whole fucking chain breaks.”
“And there’s no way I’m going to let that happen. If she doesn’t cooperate, I’ll make her watch everyone she’s ever loved be destroyed, and then I’ll kill the spoiled little bitch with my own hands. She’s not going to fuck this up for me.” His eyes narrowed as he opened the mini fridge near his desk, took out a sparkling Pellegrino, and poured it in a tall glass.
Clotille knew the score and she’d agreed to play.
He hated when things changed mid-game.
He was a competitive bastard, and he played to win.
At all costs.
Chapter Twelve
Clotille watched outthe window as a large van pulled into the club’s parking lot and stopped at the front door. A burly man jumped out of the driver’s seat and walked around to the back of the vehicle, then slid the door open. Several women came out carrying makeup cases. More than the majority had on tight jeans and tops that showcased their ample cleavage. They scurried into the club as the van pulled away and parked in the back of the lot.
A steady stream of chrome and metal made its way into the Insurgents’ lot, the riders clad in black leather and denim. A few women teetered on four-inch heels waiting by the guard station until the prospect cleared them for entry. There was an air of anticipation among the women and men, and Clotille felt a rush of excitement skate over her just from watching the people below.
“You can have the bathroom. I’m done.” Rock’s scent of cloves and leather wafted around the room. She loved the way he smelled. When he’d leave the room she’d rush over and pick up his pillow or folded sheet, inhale deeply, and let herself get lost in his scent.
She turned around and her breath caught as she took in six-foot-one inches of raw power and manliness. He was shirtless, rummaging through the second drawer in his dresser, and she took the opportunity to admire his hard muscles beneath taut, tanned skin and the enticing tats on his arms, back, and chest that danced with each breath he took. He stood up and caught her ogling. She spun away, blushing.
He chuckled. “You don’t need to turn away. I like it when you check me out. It’s hot.”
Under half-lidded eyes, she gazed up at him and locked onto his rock-hard torso, his to-die-for sculpted six-pack, and the dusting of dark hair trailing from his belly button and disappearing beneath the low-riding waistband of his tight jeans. All of a sudden the room grew smaller and hotter, and her body hummed with desire. She licked her lips and gave him a crooked smile. “I definitely like what I see.”
He winked at her and slipped his T-shirt over his head. “We’re going to have to do something about that,chérie, but for now, I gotta get downstairs. When you’re done getting ready, text me and I’ll come up. Tonight there’ll be a lot of guys from the other chapters in the state, as well as Wyoming, Utah, and Nebraska.”
“I noticed some of them riding in. I also saw a van of women being dropped off and some more women standing by the gates. This party feels different from the one the other night.”
“It is.” He slid his belt through the loops on his jeans. “Three prospects are going to get their colors, their full patch. It’s a fuckin’ big deal. The women who got out of the van are some of the strippers from our club. They’ll entertain the brothers in one of the rooms. We have a stage and pole set up. The other women are hoodrats, who come to the parties to let loose. You know: drugs, fucking, and booze. They all gotta get cleared through security to make sure we don’t have any rival club people or badges slipping through.”
“Do you think the black dress I bought in town the other day will be okay? Some of the women had on sexier outfits.”
“Who do you want to look sexy for? If it’s me, I already think you are. If it’s for another brother, don’t even fuckin’ think about it.” He attached several strands of chains onto his belt loop.
A warm shiver skimmed across her skin, and she melted at the intensity with which he watched her. “I was just saying that because I thought I may stand out like a sore thumb.”
“Are you kidding? You’re all kinds of crazy in that dress. And just ‘cause someone’s looking at you doesn’t mean you have to play Miss Social and talk to them. In my world doing that will get you a fucking, not an invitation to a charity ball.”
She shook her head. “So basically I’m not to look at or talk to anyone but you?”
“Pretty much. I gotta get down there to make sure everything’s good. Remember to text me when you’re ready.” He walked out, closing the door behind him. The jiggle of the knob made her smile; he was always making sure she was safe.
She walked back to the window, her eyes widening when she saw the throngs of bikes parked in the lot and the women gathered at the gate. A fluttery, empty feeling played in her stomach, and she gripped her arms to try and quiet her nerves. She pulled away from the window and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.
By the time she entered the great room, Rock’s arm hooked with hers, the place was teeming with people. The haze from the smoke was so dense that she had to tilt her head in several positions to make out any faces. Punctuating beats from a Metallica song pounded in her ears as Rock led her to the bar. Without warning, he grasped her waist and hoisted her up, placing her on a barstool.
“You want wine?” he yelled in her ear.
She nodded as she looked around the room. Three men wearing clean new vests stood on tables drinking one shot after another. She surmised they were the ones who received the patch Rock and the others seemed so fond of. Clotille turned to look at the bartender and noticed that he placed drinks on the bar before anyone asked for them, like he knew what the brothers wanted.
