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“I don’t understand how he has anything to do with my errands.” Her voice grows heavier and huskier, the irritation in her tone is palpable. I could cut the tension with a knife.
“It means that I’m privy to all business in and out of this club,” I retort, waiting for her challenge.
“So, you immediately assumed I have no life outside of the club?” Her smug expression is a complete one-eighty from the pissed off one I was getting.
She’s onto me. I know she is, she’s called me on my shit. Unfortunately, he didn’t warn me that Leather was intuitive as fuck.
My stomach turns as the thought, unease kicking inside me. When I first heard about Leather, I will admit that I was intrigued. She’s unique. A female enforcer is practically unheard of. It just cemented the fact that I don’t want her on my bad side.
“I didn’t assume anything.”
“Oh, so you’ve been stalking me?” Her body grows darker, looser, more relaxed as she pesters me.
“No,” I start.
“Then you don’t know me. Like I said, Alec. I have eyes and ears everywhere.” With that, she stands up, the chair tipping threateningly. She catches it with her boot, righting it down with a slam. As she leans forward onto the small table, I can finally see the reason so many grown men are scared of her.
My heart races, breath catches.
“If we’re done here, I have places to be that don’t pertain to you. Either you tell Prez about this…little encounter, or I will. And you better tell the truth.” Standing roughly, the table screeches as she pushes against it. “I will be watching.”
Fuck.
Chapter Ten
Knuckles
What in the actual…
“What the fuck was that?” I hiss, coming up behind her after I shook off the shock.
She spoke to our fucking sergeant like that. If anything, he’s the one that we should be allied with. Instead, she’s making enemies. I don’t know what she overheard, but the fact that she name dropped…that’s a big sign of disrespect.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Leather as an enforcer, but she’s pushing this too far. Patch names are names in the club. They all come with a story, they are the trick of the trade, essentially. I got my name by using my fists and duster in fights. Before Prez became Prez, he was once known as Skinner. He got the name because he likes to skin his victims alive. Leather got her name…well, we all know that she wears leather like the devil wears sin.
“I don’t fucking trust him, Knuckles,” she grumbles, walking quickly. “He gives me bad vibes. I don’t know how he sold Prez, but I swear, if it’s a case of blackmail…” she cuts herself off, turning the corner to see Prez on the phone, obviously in a heated conversation.
“Come on,” I mutter, grabbing her elbow gently. She shrugs me off, leaning against the corner of the wall and waiting patiently. I can’t contain my eye roll. She’s going to get herself fucking kicked out.
“I have a bad feeling about him.” Her voice isn’t more than a whisper, the exhaustion heavy in her tone.
“You have to have evidence to back it up, though.” Laying a gentle hand on her shoulder, she peeks at me over it. There’s demons she’s been running from, ones that we’ll probably never be aware of.
You can see the drastic change in the woman she was before compared to the one she is now. I can’t help but feel for the girl. Woman. Bloody and beaten, she gained herself back. I have no doubt that she can protect herself, but there’s this feeling in my stomach that I have to help her. Stick with her. That’s why I asked to be put on the enforcer tasks. We’re a partnership now. Maybe not the kind that I would prefer, but something is better than nothing.
“How else are we supposed to gather evidence if we don’t gather it ourselves?”
“Well, generally the sergeant helps gather the evidence,” I start, realizing where she’s going.
“We’re not the one-percent, dude. We’re a fucking gang for a reason.”
“Yeah, but we don’t fucking turn on one another,” I retort, my blood slowly starting to boil in my veins.
“I’m not suggesting that we turn on one another. I’m suggesting we try and figure out why the fuck he’s come in here from an alleged sister branch. I don’t trust him. I have this…deep seated feeling that he’s here as a spy of sorts.” She wears her worry on her sleeve, her eyes like a mirror into the concerns she’s having.
“I know, but if Prez trusts him, then we do too,” I reason, pulling her around the corner away from our President. “You have to trust that he knows what he’s doing and is going to reap the benefits for the club.”
Peeking around the corner, her body loses all semblance of tension. She stumbles back into me, her body weight leaning against mine. Her small frame fits perfectly in my arms, her soft body forming delicately to my hard one.
