My muscles bunch so quickly, bolts of pain spear down my fucked-up arm.
“No need,” I say. “I’ve made the situation clear to her.”
“What’s she doing back here anyway? I’d say she lost her job, but there’s no way that woman hasn’t lost more than a few jobs before now.”
“It’s immaterial. She knows where she stands.” Heat coils in my gut as I remember her spread across my lap, her ass dancing under my palm, pussy juice smeared on her thighs.
I’ve never done anything like that before. Maybe a few swats in the heat of the moment, but nothing like what Dizzy and Fay-Lee do. It’s just—she was smiling. Ear to ear. Flirting with that ginger asshole like she didn’t have a care in the world.
And she didn’t care that she was courting real danger. Heavy, Nickel, Creech. They hate her. They blame her for me reenlisting, for breaking up the original crew. They’ve despised her so long, it’s habit. We don’t hurt women, but what would they do to encourage her to disappear?
She’s not my old lady. No one would physically touch her, but she’s not protected when I’m not around. And some of my brothers are devious, vicious motherfuckers. She talks shit, but she’s not hard on the inside like Harper or Annie.
And there she was, dancing and laughing it up. Instigating. Giving the club her back. Daring them to run her off.
I’ve never needed to wipe a smile off a person’s face in a worse way.
Now, Heavy’s staring at me, deadly serious, his dark eyes unreadable. “Don’t underestimate her. She’s not some harmless hot mess. She’s dangerous. To you. To this club. We let her in once. She used that access to try to tear us apart. She had a temper tantrum ‘cause she wasn’t gonna be the center of attention for a hot minute.”
“She’s a brat.” There’s no denying it.
Heavy nods. “There’s the kind of spoiled that’s mildly irritating. And then there’s the kind of spoiled that poisons shit. I’ve kept tabs on her.”
My chest tightens. I never asked him to do that.
“Did you know there’s a video of her fighting some chick in her underwear on PornX? Poor bastard behind the camera begging her to stop. And she got some guy arrested for stealing a car to take her out and show her a good time. And most recently, she seems to have pissed off Dominic Renelli. He’s reached out. Asked us nicely if we’ve seen her.”
My mouth goes dry, and my adrenaline kicks in hard. “What did you say?”
“Nothing. I’m ducking his calls. But I don’t have to answer him. She’s waltzing around town with Shirlene, not a care in the world. It’s a matter of time before someone gives Renelli the heads up.”
“No one touches her.” I stand up, fists clenched. My chair rolls back and hits the wall in slow motion.
Heavy remains seated, cool and collected. Harper’s leaning forward, all ears.
“I’m more inclined to cut her a check. Let her know Renelli’s looking for her. Give her a few thousand to get gone.” Heavy’s voice is even. He doesn’t acknowledge that I’m inexplicably about to throw down.
“Why does Renelli want her?”
Heavy lifts his massive shoulders. “She worked for one of his legitimate businesses in Pyle. She probably stole from him.”
“She was never a thief.”
“She didn’t have to be. You gave her anything she asked for. And she betrayed you the first chance she got. She betrayed us.”
Like I need the reminder.
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, Heavy.” Harper rolls her eyes. “She’s some loser skank; she’s not Judas Iscariot. Run her off. Pay her off. Whatever. Can we get our heads back in the game?”
“She’s not club business.” I pin Heavy with my coldest stare. He’s my brother. I’ve killed for him. Risked my life for him. But this isn’t club business. “No one deals with Nevaeh Ellis but me. Understood?”
The door pushes open, Wash pokes his head in, and he sings out, “Understood! But Veep? You might wanna come out front, then. You got a special delivery.”
Wash flashes a gap-toothed grin and ducks back out of the boardroom.
For a long moment, Heavy and I take each other’s measure. We’ve been brothers our entire lives. My earliest memory is sparring with sticks out behind the garage with Heavy, Charge, and Scrap. Before Nickel, it was the four of us. Heavy, the mastermind. Charge, the guy who’d get us out of any scrape with his aw shucks smile. Scrap, the steady soldier. And me. The right hand. The general.
Nothing could tear us apart.
And then I get it. A rush of understanding. “You were tempted. When she came on to you.”
Heavy’s holds my gaze, but a look I’ve never seen before crosses his face. Chagrin. Self-disgust. “The flesh is weak, my brother.”
“But you didn’t touch her.” It’s not a question; I don’t need to ask.
“I didn’t touch her.”
“She’s mine.”
“She’s heartless. Her father was dying—her brother was hurting—and she didn’t come back until the man who raised her was dead.”
Harper lets out a loud, blowsy sigh. “Good grief, Heavy, would you drop it already? You’re painting her like a Shakespearen villain. Keep going, and I’m gonna start liking her. And besides, the woman herself is apparently out front.” She stands. “I’m not missing this. I haven’t seen Annie really beat a girl’s ass in years. Catch you later, assholes.”
Harper tucks her phone in her bra and sashays out the door, hollering, “Prospect! Take me to the trash!”
“We done?” I’m itching to follow her, and Heavy’s confession does not rest easy with me.
Heavy lumbers to his feet. “We good?”
I nod, slow. “Always, brother.”
“I’ll back your play. Every time.”
“Doesn’t need to be said.”
I lead the way out to the main hall, and it’s a ghost town. Everyone’s out front, except for Wash, who’s leaning against the bar, waiting for us to emerge from the back.
“She showed up and asked for you. Won’t talk to anyone. The girls went after her again, but Wall jumped in, so it’s cool for now.”
“What does she want?” Heavy asks. I don’t wait for an answer, heading right into the crowd. Folks part like the Red Sea. We’ve got more people here than usual since the club and our associates are partying close to home due to the recent Rebel Raider attacks. If Nevaeh came to put on a show, she’s got a huge audience.
“Oh, you’ll see,” Wash snickers. “I think she needs some work on her car.”
I clear the last of the crowd. I’m in the front parking lot, somehow ending up next to Harper Ruth. There’s a beat up red Hyundai idling in the middle of the main aisle. Across the hood, someone has keyed DIE STEEL BONES WHORE. The S’s are formed with angles, not curves, and the points reach all the way from the windshield to the grill.
“Now where have I seen this before?” Harper’s smirking, her eyes narrowed.
Nevaeh’s standing next to the car, hand on her round hip, glaring at the sweetbutts clustered nearby, heckling her.