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Gate indicated a chair across from his desk, and when he sat, so did Jenna.
“Gotta say, Jenna, this is the first time I’ve ever had a college professor show up at my compound.”
Jenna tightened her grip on the bag in her lap and grinned, “Not everyday I knock on an MC door either.”
Nervous, but a straight shooter. Gate liked her.
Gate folded his hands on his desk. “Why are you here? I’m not sure we have much to offer a woman like you.”
Gate noticed the moment she saw her in and decided to take it. The woman should never play poker. Ever. He could read every thought all over her face.
“Actually, you do. Have something to offer, that is.”
“What’s that?” Gate asked, intrigued.
“As I mentioned to Ink,” Jenna gestured toward the closed door, “I’m a professor at Savannah State, and part of the requirements for my job is that I publish academic work.”
Gate gave her a blank face.
“That means I have to write something worthy of my peers and have it published in a journal.”
Still nothing.
“I have to write something about the subject I teach and it has to be good.”
Gate nodded, “What’s that got to do with me?”
“I need to write about a motorcycle club.”
“You teach motorcycle clubs?” Gate asked on raised brows.
“Not exactly. But, yeah, kind of.”
“They teach that shit in college?” Gate threw back his head and laughed.
A blush stole up Jenna’s cheeks. “If I want to keep teaching it, I have to publish something about it, and I was hoping you’d let me interview you. Or some of the guys. Your choice….”
“No,” Gate interrupted.
“I know this is asking a lot….” Jenna kept going.
“Can’t expose myself or my brothers.” Gate rose from his chair.
“And I know it’sveryunorthodox….” Jenna leaned back and raised her eyes to Gate.
“You should go,” Gate said, his voice gentle but final.
Jenna bowed her head.
Gate watched her shoulders bow in defeat.
Then she straightened her spine, squared off, and reached into her handbag. She placed something on his desk. Silver chain with some kind of charm.
“You have to help me,” Jenna whispered.
“What’s that?” Gate asked, leaning closer, more intrigued than he wanted to admit.
He’d expected a Girl Scout fundraiser. If he was lucky, maybe a wet tee shirt car wash. Dr. Jenna Albright was definitely not any of that.
