Page 28 of The Price of Love

Her intelligent brown eyes measure me. Prospects aren’t always comfortable being honest, especially with officers, for fear of saying something that’ll derail their chances of getting their patch.

“Don’t censor yourself,” I add. “I don’t judge when someone’s honest with me.”

She purses her lips and nods. “This club ain’t like any other I’ve been around.” She looks away and runs a damp cloth over the bar. “Most clubs aren’t this…uh, diverse. I mean, clubs are usually segregated.”

“You’re right, but the Iron Thorns don’t follow those rules. Separating by race is a carryover from men’s clubs. We don’t play those games.”

“It was Aces’ doing, wasn’t it?”

“You know your history.” I pound my fist against my chest. “Aces was the best. She was a Navy vet, and some of her best friends in the service were different races. She said she’d never belong to a club that wouldn’t welcome women who’d die for her.”

“I wish I would’ve had the chance to know her. I’m Army.”

“She would’ve liked you.”

A smile tugs at the corner of her lips, and her eyes glisten. “Wow. I ain’t sure how to respond to that honor.”

“And you’re smart. Some wouldn’t have caught what an honor it is.”

“It ain’t no secret, at least to me, what high regards you have for Aces.”

I give her a sad smile. “She was the best. Taken from us too soon. Cancer fucking sucks.”

We continue talking as the girls keep coming for more Bloody Marys. I encourage them to slow down, or we’ll be leaving the mattresses out another night. I like the vibe in the club, probably because Frost isn’t here.

When I hear my name, I turn. Dimples is calling from across the clubhouse, so I motion for her to join me.

“We gotta get going,” Dimples yells over the music and the girls talking.

I wave my arm in a bigger arc. “Get your ass over here. I gotta finish this.” I hold up my drink.

Before Dimples can respond, I turn back to the bar and catch the prospect staring across the room. A thoughtful expression etches her face.

What the hell did Dimples say to get that reaction from the prospect? I glance over my shoulder to assess the situation, and I’m surprised by the pained expression on Dimples’ face.

The fuck. Now what happened? Is Frost at it again? I turn back to the bar. “Hey, Prospect, pour Dimples a Bloody Mary.”

“She doesn’t like her drinks spicy. I think she’d prefer a mimosa.”

“Damn, you’re right.”

The prospect’s face falls. Prospects aren’t supposed to contradict a full-patch member. It’s even worse doing it to the president.

I hold up my hand. “Hey, it’s all right. I like that you spoke up.” I wave my hand between us. “You didn’t publicly call me out. It’s just you and me, so I’m good with it.”

She gives me a sheepish smile, and then her eyes light up.

I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“We need to get going,” Dimples says from behind me.

“She’s about to fix you a mimosa.” I look over my shoulder and meet Dimples’ eyes. “She reminded me you don’t like spicy drinks.”

Dimples’ eyes narrow, and she looks at the prospect. “Pour me a Bloody Mary.”

“Yes, Captain.” The prospect pours the drink and pushes it across the bar to Dimples.

Dimples pushes it back. “Give it some more heat.”