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We’ve had spies in the club before. One being his own old lady. We don’t want more. And till Natalie talks, we can’t rule her out as being one.

“Give it time.”

He looks at me, and I hold his stare before he nods and walks back to the clubhouse.

My phone chimes, and I don’t bother pulling it out of my back pocket. I set my stuff down and wash up instead, then open the clubhouse door and head to the bar.

“Here you go.” The prospect gives me my lunch order and a couple of bottles of water.

I turn and go to the same booth I’ve been coming to for lunch for the past ten days.

“Eat.”

I set down the Subway sandwiches between us and pull out a chair opposite Natalie. I always wait for her to pick. Ruby told me that they drugged the food in Colombia. And that Natalie seemed to take that knowledge in stride when their suitemate, Ava, told them. If she needs to know I won’t drug her, then I’ll relinquish all food choices to her till she can trust me.

And I need her to trust me if I plan to get anything from her. It’s clear as day that she has trust issues.

Not only because of the shit her sister pulled, but also because she still hasn’t spoken to Ruby, despite Ruby trying to talk to her. The club princess knows she fucked up and blamed her former roommate for her own trust issues with the club, but Natalie hasn’t been in the mood to forgive and forget.

I once overheard Kooper telling his woman that she just needed time.

To that I say, bullshit.

I hope I’m wrong. But I’ve got a feeling I’m not. The way Natalie looks at Ruby these days, there’s zero love in her eyes for the woman. Ruby might as well be a random stranger on the street for all the recognition Natalie gives her when she gets close.

I open the sandwiches and wait. Natalie doesn’t like to eat with me. I get it. But she will eat. Just in her own time.

I pull out my phone and scan through emails, then social media, and finally start playing a game before she picks her food and drink. Only then do I put my phone down and take what’s left.

The clubhouse is pretty quiet. Most of the boys take their food and go. Either to fuck a club girl, fuck their girl, or just eat and work simultaneously. I choose to sit with Natalie. Mostly to make sure she eats, but also because, despite what she might think, she needs to interact with someone.

When I come to work, I bring her. She sits here, talks to no one, and then leaves when I do. Sometimes I stay after work and bullshit with the boys. Sometimes I don’t. But she doesn’t talk to anyone.

Sometimes she stares off into space. Sometimes she watches whatever the boys have on. Other times she reads on her eReader or a paperback. She hasn’t asked about leaving. Hasn’t brought up her sister. Or school. I brought her some information about online classes with her university. Left it outside her room a few days back and saw it in the trash the next day. Guess that’s her answer.

The world operates around her, and other than me forcing myself into her bubble, she just floats along.

She’s gotten too damn good at it. I swear, half the club doesn’t even notice her anymore. The first few days, she was a bug to watch. Then they just stopped. Casper might have said something, but I think the boys were just tired of waiting for a reaction and decided to not give her one themselves.

Might explain why, when Kooper comes into the clubhouse, he grabs his food and just sits beside me. Not once looking at Natalie.

He isn’t the talking type. Which is fine with me. But somehow we got close. That, or maybe I’m just the only brother who didn’t care about him going after the president’s daughter. I saw that he treated her well from the start, saw no issues with it. Unlike a few others who took to beating on him once they learned. Not many, but a few got some solid hits in before he told them to fuck off.

“Results in yet?” I ask around a mouth full of food.

He and Peaches had a routine checkup on their kid, and apparently things seemed off. General had them run some blood work. The guy’s been on pins and needles ever since.

“Yeah.” He lets out a sigh that has me raising my eyebrows at how defeated it sounds. Something I’ve never heard come out of the man before.

“And?”

He shrugs. “What do you want me to say, man? The doctor says the results show the baby is at risk. For what or how it happened, we don’t know. Ruby’s blaming herself since she didn’t even know she was pregnant when she was held in Colombia, and she thinks she cursed our kid somehow when she was mad at me. I keep telling her, just like General, that the test doesn’t tell us that there’s a problem. Only that our kid’s at risk for one.”

“What do you think it is?”

He pushes his still-wrapped sandwich around on the table but doesn’t open it.

“They think it’s CMV, which could be a hearing loss or development delay.” He shoves his sandwich away, as if it causes him anguish, and it lands on the floor. “Hell, my kid might not even be able to see me when they come out. How fucked up is that?”