Page 17 of Striker’s Rebel

June watches me put my phone away.

“I put two prospects on the house.”

Her expression goes blank.

“You can do that?”

“Yeah.”

“And they’ll just… watch?”

“Unless there’s a reason not to.”

Something in her face shifts.

Relief, maybe.

She tries to hide it.

Doesn’t work.

“Thank you.”

I look at her.

The words are quiet enough that I almost miss them.

“Don’t thank me yet.”

“Why?”

“Because now we’re dealing with you.”

Her eyes narrow immediately.

There she is.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not going home alone tonight.”

Chapter 3

June

I stare at Striker, waiting for some indication that he understands how completely insane he sounds.

None comes.

He stands in the Red Den parking lot with blood drying across his knuckles and three men still recovering behind him, looking entirely too calm for someone who has just informed a woman he met less than an hour ago that she will not be going home alone.

“You realize you don’t actually get to decide that, right?”

His green eyes settle on me. “Looks like I just did.”

I fold my arms, immediately regret it when my shoulder protests, and refuse to let him see.

“That might work with the men in your club. It doesn’t work with me.”