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“I can afford a few bucks for pizza,” I assured her. After all, Slash was footing the bill for just about everything else in my life. I wasn’t sure I liked it. It still felt like we were playing on uneven footing.
I pulled out my wallet and found a couple of bills to give to Jazz, but before I closed the zipper, something caught my eye.
With a frown, I extracted a black American Express card with my name on it. I marched back into the kitchen.
Jazz was on her phone, absorbed in a text conversation. When she saw me, she paused. “Uh oh.”
I tossed the Black AMEX on the counter in front of her.
She reached out and grabbed it. “Holy shit.”
“I know.”
“He has a Black AMEX?”
“Yup.”
“No shit.”
“Shit.”
“And now he’s given you a Black AMEX with your name on it,” she murmured. “This is big.”
“I know.”
“But not just like,here, spend my moneybig. A Black AMEX is like, elite. Slash must have serious money.”
I bit my thumb nail. “Yeah…”
“But what kind of serious money?” she asked. “Oh, I get it. He’s a biker.”
“What’s that mean?” I asked with a frown.
“Come on, you know.”
I raised my brows.
“They’re criminals,” she said.
“Lower your voice.” I chin-nodded in the direction of Duke. I didn’t want there to be any chance he overheard what we were talking about. “You think they’re criminals?”
“Honey, wake up and smell the money laundering.” She tossed the card back. “Has Slash told you what he actually does for the club?”
I shook my head.
“What did he tell you when he bought you the car?”
“He said because he’s been a Nomad for so long he has a lot of money saved. No mortgage, no real living expenses. Wow, I’m kind of dumb, aren’t I?”
“You? Dumb? Please.”
“How did I overlook this?” I demanded.
“Uh, you were in a dick coma, obviously.” She grinned, but when I didn’t smile back, her expression slipped.
“He’s not telling me everything,” I said slowly.
“Definitely not.”
