Page 22 of Property of Rattler

Freak shakes his head. “Nah, Trix wasn’t fussed about where we go, and I talked to Big Daddy last night. He’s pulled some strings to get us tickets to Comic Con in San Diego next month. Ace will be fuckin’ over the moon.”

“Dropping names now, are we?” I sneer. “When did you get so friendly with our national prez? And what does Trix think about that destination?” And why’s he even thinking of taking his son with them, when they’re supposed to be celebrating their wedding nuptials? Kids and fuckin’ women, bikers should steer well clear of them.

“Shut it, Rat.” His face shutters.

I go to open my mouth again to give him some advice.

Prez interrupts before I can get another word out. “Ames, Satin, sit down.” I guide them to seats at the end of the table. I notice Ames looks nervous. Satin, however, has a cocky expression on her face.

Prez softens his eyes as he looks toward our heiress. “Ames, you have the club’s protection. We’ve not yet considered how best to protect you, but safe to say, you’re no longer working at Royals. We might move you out of state.”

Good move, I think to myself. Then she’ll be out of my hair. Maybe Bullseye’s thinking of placing her under the protection of a different chapter.

“Satin, you’ll stay here,” he continues. “And if?—”

Satin places her hands on the table as she stops him mid-sentence with just one word. “No.” She glances at Ames. “I’m her bodyguard. I go where she goes.”

“Yeah?” Prez asks, deceptively calmly. “And where were you last night?”

“I had cramps,” she snaps, as if not liking the challenge.

“And couldn’t you just take painkillers?” he presses.

“I was also bleeding heavily.” She shrugs. “I know some men have kinks, but I didn’t think you’d like a stripper dancing wearing a leaking heavy flow pad. You really want bloody streaks on the pole?”

All the males in the room wince, then fidget, as if wishing they were somewhere else.

Freak leans forward, his face pinched. “You always going to miss the first day of your monthly? As you never said fuck about that at your interview.”

“I didn’t have a say when the doctor the Royals use changed my contraceptive medication.” She pauses, then adds, “Then again, I didn’t expect the effect that it had.”

“I find it fuckin’ suspicious that you weren’t there the one night Ames needed you. And you didn’t answer when the club called.”

“I’d taken painkillers and smoked a decent blunt.” She sneers. “You men have no idea how cramps can knock you out and how only a decent sleep helps.”

Ames reaches out her hand and places it over Satin’s. “Iknow,” she offers in a comforting tone. Then to Prez she says, “It happens.”

“It can’t happen again. Satin, you are going to stay away from Ames.”

“We stick together.” The stripper juts out her chin.

The VP, who’d been focused on his hands linked together on the table, now raises his head and focuses his cold gaze on her.“Yeah? That would suit you, wouldn’t it? You’ll be able to give her brother all the updates he wants, like exactly where to find her.”

I’m watching both girls carefully. Ames’s mouth drops open, and she turns to Satin. “You didn’t?”

“Fuck no,” her supposed friend answers.

“How much did he offer you, Satin?” Prez is determined to get an answer from her.

She doesn’t flinch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Suddenly, Bullseye stands and leans on the table, his arctic glare focused on her. “I’m asking you nicely. I can ask you a different way. What did he offer you to betray Ames?”

His tone and his actions have Satin looking less sure of herself than she has since she entered our meeting room. “I’ve never met or spoken to Malachi.”

Ames raises her chin, as if to say she never doubted her.

Sitting back down, Prez taps his fingers on the table, as if drumming out a rhythm to a beat only he can hear. After a moment, he dips and raises his chin. “Malachi found Ames here, and he mentioned your name. Seems to know the two of you are linked. Even if you’ve had no dealings with him, he knows about you.”