Page 13 of The Price of Love

I glance around the crowded bar and shake my head. “Just takes one to overhear us. Ain’t worth it.”

Nadine steps back. “Nobody’s gonna hear.”

As I search for a way to shut her down without making it worse, the officers stroll in. The room goes silent as they enter.

“Five minutes until church,” Storm calls. “Better get your drinks and pee because we aren’t letting you out until we’re done.”

I eye Storm, looking for cracks, but it’s Dimples I wanna study. I’ve watched her enough that I know her tells. She rubs her hands together when she’s uncomfortable, and when she’s uptight, her leg jiggles. Since she’s standing, I can’t look for that tell, so I focus on her eyes. They’re clear. No edge there.

She notices me staring and gives me a smile. Ugh. It goes right to my heart. Damn it. Those dimples. I should look away and pretend I wasn’t staring. Instead, I smile back and do the unthinkable. I wave.

Fuck me. A prospect shouldn’t be smiling and waving at an officer.

Dimples must notice the panic on my face because she calls, “Prospect, did you get that? I need my drink refreshed.”

“Got it,” I call back, hoping Nadine doesn’t pick up on it.

When I turn, my heart drops to my stomach. The smirk on her face tells me Nadine saw.

I stand in the back with Nadine. That’s where prospects are expected to be during church since we haven’t earned our seats. Someday I hope to have a voice and a vote. Until then, I’ll wait and prove my worth.

The room is packed. When Jinx calls roll, all eighty-seven patch sisters are there. A few ain’t around much during the winter. As a prospect, I’m required to be at the clubhouse even when it’s dead. A prospect’s job is simple: keep the clubhouse clean and orderly and make sure the patch sisters have what they need. I’m not complaining. It’s a win for me since Dimples lives upstairs.

The officers sit at the table with the Iron Thorns’ logo behind them. It’s the same logo that’s on the back of the full-patch sisters’ cuts.

Storm spends the first part of the meeting going over the club bylaws and code of ethics, but with her upbeat mood, it doesn’t come off harsh, just informative. A loud cheer goes up when Halo gives the treasury report and says Black Briar is increasing its money-making activities.

“Our next agenda item,” Storm says, “is our first formal ride of the season. One week from today.” She leans forward and glances down the table. “I’m gonna turn the meeting over to our road captain.”

Dimples smiles and my heart melts, but I have to focus, so I stand up straighter and keep a serious expression on my face.

“Kickstands up at nine,” Dimples says. “I’m still waiting for Wiz or her road captain to send me the route.”

One woman near the front groans. “I bet that bitch has had the route for months.”

Several other women murmur their agreement. I’m sure they’re right. The Iron Thorns aren’t exactly popular with the Steel Graces.

“You know they don’t want us there,” one of the older members says.

“More reason for us to show up,” Storm says with a smirk. “I’ve never known a Thorn to let anyone chase them away. Besides, it’s for charity. Raising money for the women’s shelter. Does anyone think we shouldn’t go?”

The room goes silent. Storm’s right. The Iron Thorns are generous with the community. Technically, the Thorns aren’t an outlaw MC. We can’t be. Some of our operations skirt the law, but the Thorns do tons of good for the community, especially Cinder Ridge. Besides, most of our profits come from the rich tourists visiting Lake Placid. Nobody’s hurt, and they have a good time, so where’s the harm? Money flows in and back out into the community where it belongs. It’s one of the many reasons the law leaves the Thorns alone.

“And nobody need worry.” Dimples grins. “I’ve got sources. I’ll get the intel.”

The women laugh, which is what I suspect Dimples was going for.

“I’ll send out emails and post the route around the clubhouse. Any questions?” Dimples asks.

“Yeah,” someone calls. “Are they gonna treat us like we’re scum, same as they do whenever they see us?”

“Most likely,” Dimples says.

A dark cloud crosses Storm’s face. “But it isn’t about them. It’s about the shelter for women and children.” Storm fixes the sister who asked the question with her intense glare. “And it’s not about us, either.”

“Amen,” Nails says.

The vocal club member looks down at the floor and says, “I’ll be there.”