Page 14 of Grim’s Angel

“That was before I heard what they meant.”

“The contract is legal.”

“A contract can buy paper, Angel. It can’t buy your yes.”

Her lips part.

I hold her gaze and let her see the truth without dressing it in softer words.

“I don’t sell women. Neither do my brothers.”

“What happens to the money?”

“It goes back.”

“Even if it was a lot?”

The fee would carry the women’s shelter through winter and cover repairs the clubhouse needs before the first snow, but I can replace the money without the brothers knowing where it came from.

My brothers will understand when they hear what happened. They value lives over money.

The Army branded me a sinner because it needed a scapegoat. I kept the name and built the club for men who had been blamed, disavowed, or discarded when the truth became inconvenient.

“There isn’t enough money in the world to make the Damned Sinners deliver a woman to a man who bought her.”

Something shifts behind her eyes. Her grip on the suitcase loosens.

“I’ll go to the clubhouse,” she says.

Relief hits harder than it should.

“Good.”

“But I keep my phone.”

“Already told you that.”

“And I can leave.”

“When you choose.”

“And nobody touches me without permission.”

My gaze drops to the bruises circling her wrist.

“Anyone forgets that rule, he loses the hand.”

Her breath catches.

I mean every word.

I unclip the spare helmet from the rear luggage rack. “You ridden before?”

“No.”

“You keep your arms around my waist and move when I move. If you need me to stop, tap my side twice.”

Her gaze drops to my waist. Heat flickers through her hazel eyes before she catches herself.