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Mamba surprised her by showing up at the salon, assuming she was an innocent bystander in his setup. He even offered to help her, save her, and confront whoever was pressuring her. They’d only been inches apart, his big muscled body dwarfing hers, yet she didn’t feel afraid. His gruff rasp surrounded her, and his urgent plea drove the guilt deeper into her gut. When she revealed she was Ajax’s sister, his shock allowed her to escape without revealing any more secrets, but the burden of deceit proved too heavy.
* * *
“So, let me get this straight.” Cobra motioned to the prospect tending bar at the Gold Mine, pointed to the bottle of Jack, then held up two fingers. “You not only went downtown when I told you to stay put, but you actually talked to this Mandy chick?”
“Technically, you said I could ride, and you never mentioned anything about not talking to Mandy.”
“You’re fuckin’ kidding me, right?” The prospect slid the shots in front of them, then edged his way to the other side of the bar. Cobra seldom lost it, but when he did, nobody wanted to be around.
“I thought if I could get to—”
“No, that’s your problem, you don’t fuckin’ think. First, you shouldn’t have been downtown drinking last week or getting wild out of our territory. Then you shouldn’t have confronted the chick who’s trying to put you away.” Cobra shot the whiskey and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “But you were, and you did, and now you’re lucky it all didn’t blow up in your face.”
“All right, all right, but you gotta admit I found out some interesting shit. She’s not only connected to the Marauders, but Ajax is her fuckin’ brother.”
“I got it.”
“Don’t you see, it’s all some kinda damn setup and—” Mamba’s phone buzzed on the bar top.
“Yeah?” Mamba barked into the phone.
“It’s Syd. I’d like you to come to my office tomorrow.”
“You got something?”
“Be here at eleven a.m.,” Syd ordered.
Mamba opened his mouth to reply, but the line went dead. Damn, that woman knew how to amp him up.
“Syd says to be in her office tomorrow morning.”
“She say what’s it about?”
“Of course not. I think she gets enjoyment outta making me sweat.” Mamba finished off his drink. “I’m beat, I’m gonna head upstairs.”
The two men tapped fists, and Mamba headed for his rooms over the clubhouse. Some of the brothers lived at the Gold Mine, some didn’t, but it worked for him, especially after being locked up for two years.
It itched at him what new info Syd might have. He thought about calling her back, but she’d probably have some wiseass answer, get up his ass again, and still not tell him what was going on. The woman had a way of jumping up and down on his last nerve.
Mamba stripped off his jeans and t-shirt, dragged on the sweatpants laying on the chair, flopped down on the bed, and hit the remote. He aimlessly flipped through the channels, but his mind kept making a detour to Mandy.
He couldn’t wrap his head around her being Ajax’s sister, the Marauders’ leader. It didn’t fit or make sense, but it did raise a shit-ton of other questions. When he laid out the truth for her earlier, Mandy’s eyes gave her away. She wasn’t savvy enough to throw up a wall and hide her emotions, and since they both knew he didn’t mess up her face, the question remained—who did it, and why was she going along with the con job?
He’d been around enough users to pick out a fraud, and she was too innocent to fake the way her body melted when he kissed her at the Rook. He also couldn’t forget her soft laugh or how her dark hair waved around her face. She was spunky, sassy, and totally different from the scared, shy woman he saw this afternoon. It made him wonder, which one was the real Mandy, or was she a combination of both?
That brought him right back to his original question. Who was she protecting? He’d done plenty of shit in his day, street fighter, brawling savage in the cage, but he’d never hit a woman. Some things weren’t right even to an outlaw like him, but apparently, someone convinced her to point the finger at him using either guilt or fear, or both.
No matter what information Syd had for him tomorrow, Mamba vowed to get to the truth.
* * *
The next morning, Mamba and Cobra filed into Syd’s chrome-and-glass ultra-modern office. It suited her—streamlined, rigid, and without warmth. He’d keep those opinions to himself, especially since his future rode on the expertise of the woman perched behind her massive desk with a view of Mount Charleston through the wall of windows behind her.
She stood when they entered and motioned to the two chairs opposite her desk. “As I mentioned last night, I have some very interesting information. Whoever beat Mandy up wasn’t you.”
“Fuck, yeah.” Mamba fist-pumped, then turned to Cobra. “Told you I was innocent.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” Syd laughed. “But it looks like you’re off the hook this time.”
