throat. “Uh, yeah, that helps.”
The three women chuckled. “We can practically hear your mind exploding,” Shell said. “So, you’re in?”
Emmie needed shoes, Rissa’s jeans were about two inches too short, and she hadn’t purchased a new bra in years. Yeah, she was in. “I’ll do it. Just, uh, one thing?”
“Yeah?” Toni said.
“What’s a patch-in?”
All the ladies’ eyes widened. “Oh, boy,” Jazz said with a laugh. “You’re in for an education, girl.”
Mak swallowed. The ladies began talking all at once about the parties at the Handlers’ clubhouse. By the time she left, she’d laughed more at their stories and antics than she had in years.
A pit sat at the base of her stomach. Forming friendships beyond work acquaintances with these women would be as foolish as finding a boyfriend. She couldn’t afford to divide her attention between friends and family. At all times, she needed to remain vigilant and on task. She also had the responsibility of protecting anyone she came in contact with from her father’s wrath.
If her mother had known what Makenna knew about the community, would she have made different choices? If she’d known the community leaders would kill her for having an affair, or that her lover would become a brutal example for any woman in the community contemplating forming a relationship with a man outside their walls, would she have slept with him?
Makenna would never know the answers to those questions, but she’d internalized the ruthless lessons. She wouldn’t allow anyone close enough to be harmed when Roger and her father inevitably caught up to them again.
CHAPTER THREE
“HOW DO I look?” Tex asked, as he smoothed his hands down his prospect’s cut. He was a smart kid with a bit of Texas country swagger.
“You look like a fuckin’ dirtbag, like always,” Thunder said, hiding his grin with his coffee cup.
“Fuck you.” Tex flipped him off, then checked his reflection in his goddammed spoon.
“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Tex put the spoon down then shrugged. “Nothing’s wrong. Just making sure I’m putting my best foot forward.”
Best foot forward? What the…Thunder burst out laughing. “Fuck me, this is for Kristy, isn’t it?”
“What? No! What the hell is wrong with a man wanting to look good?”
“Nothing. You do know she’s not gonna strip in here, right?”
“Seriously, fuck you.”
Thunder laughed. Tex was a trip. They were in a coffee shop, one town over, waiting on a friend of Thunder’s. A friend who also happened to be a stripper Thunder had worked with in the past. After many years in the biz, he was well acquainted with all the entertainment in the area and then some. Though he knew them, he rarely associated with coworkers outside of the job. Not that he had any problems with his work peers, he just preferred to keep away from that world when not performing.
But this wasn’t a social visit. This was strictly business. And he’d begged Copper to let him be the one to conduct this fact-finding mission. Ever since the day Viper had died, the urge to take the CDMC down had been clawing at him like a feral cat. He’d been there that day. Witnessed Viper’s lifeless body broken and bleeding on the diner’s floor. And while the club had eliminated the man who’d been personally responsible for tossing the grenade that killed Viper, it wasn’t enough. Thunder wanted each and every CDMC motherfucker to pay.
Shit, if he thought about this much longer, he’d fucking cry as he’d done the day Viper died.
“Hey, there she is. There she is.” Tex rested his hands on the table, then in his lap, then back on the table.
Thank God for the distraction. And what a distraction she was.
“Could you not act like you’re gonna bust a nut the second she sits down?” Thunder asked, as he stood to greet Kristy.
“Shh, shut the fuck up,” Tex whispered.
“Well, if it isn’t the sexiest two men in the MC.” Kristy strutted over on stilts with skintight leather pants, a bright red crop top, and her long brown hair in a sky-high ponytail.
“Hey, beautiful.” He took her outstretched hands and accepted a kiss on his lips.
Tex cleared his throat in the most unsubtle way possible. With a roll of his eyes, Thunder said, “Kristy, this is Tex. Another prospect for the club.”
Since she’d danced at several Handlers’ parties, she probably already knew Tex by sight, but the two hadn’t been formally introduced.
With a sly grin, Kristy extended a hand to Tex. “Hi, Tex,” she purred. “I’m Kristy.”
The