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“For?” she whispers.
“It to end,” he answers.
“Again, why?” she asks, blowing out an exasperated breath.
“You need protection, so you will stay at the clubhouse tonight. Cyrus said you didn’t want to listen to their orgies,” he explains like it’s simple, “so I’m here to watch you and bring you back.”
“I’m a grown ass woman. I can go home—”
“No,” he snaps like it’s the end of the discussion. “You are staying at the clubhouse, and don’t even think about trying to sneak out through the back, Jay is there. Now don’t you have tables to wait on?”
Her mouth opens and closes before she snaps it shut, throws him a glare, and storms away. He smirks, turning to watch her ass as she goes. Oh yeah, she’s going to have fun with that one.
When he finally drags his gaze back to us, he nods. “I’ve got this, do what you need to.”
“Keep her safe,” I beg. “She’s my family.”
“No one will touch her,” he promises, but then a dark smile crawls across his lips and his expression has me leaning back. There is something so cold, so lifeless about his eyes. He’s clearly insane. It’s a look I saw in, well, saw in the bastard’s eyes—dead, cold, cunning, and fucking dangerous. “Unless she begs us to.”
“Well, okay then.” I sigh and get to my feet. “I wouldn’t hold my breath on that one. She’ll hand you your balls before she licks them, especially with the way you’re going.”
He shrugs again, returning his gaze to her. “I like a challenge.”
Cyrus nods as he passes.
“Thanks, man,” Bray says. “We’ll be in contact.”
When we get outside, I turn to them, and Bray grins.
“Are we taking bets on her trying to kill him?”
“I’ll take it,” I chirp.
“Stakes?” Asher inquires.
“Five thousand?” Cyrus suggests, and I choke. He looks at me and frowns. “What?”
“Um, did you forget I’m poor?”
“What do you mean?” he questions, obviously confused. “You have our money.”
“Crazy bastard say what?” I gape, my head tilting in bewilderment.
“You’re Crew, you have access to Crew accounts,” he explains slowly, still clearly perplexed.
“That’s not my money!” I yell. “I don’t need pity—”
“Love, it’s not pity. It’s how Cyrus takes care of people, how we all do. It’s money we don’t need, and if you need it, it’s there. It’s not about buying you,” Asher clarifies when he sees me gearing up for a fight. “It’s about need. You are family, so we added you to the family accounts. We aren’t saying you have to use it, but you can. We all do, we share everything.”
“That makes a lot more sense,” I grumble. “But still, I prefer to earn my own money, thank you.”
“Fine, how about winner gets head?” Bray offers, looking between us to try and defuse the argument he can feel brewing.
Cyrus is still glaring at me, genuinely not understanding why I won’t take their money. I don’t do hand-outs; I earn my own way. Just because they are rich and I’m fucking them doesn’t mean I should automatically take what’s theirs. I don’t even really like gifts for that reason. I don’t want to be indebted to anyone, including them, no matter what. It’s the last shred of independence I have. It’s a nice thought, though, and I can see why they did it. To them, money is nothing, just something they have and can share, but for me? It’s earned with blood, sweat, and tears, and even then, it’s not always enough, but it’s what I have. Each pound I earn and work hard for is satisfying.
“Deal,” I agree with a grin. “She’s definitely gonna kick his ass.”
“I’m betting he’ll have her on her back, screaming, before she tries.” Cyrus smirks.
