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“Ollie also seems to have a penchant for certain types of ladies.”
Liv straightened. After being engaged to a man involved in trafficking women and witnessing him assault one, she was particularly sensitive to these issues.
“What do you mean?” Brenna asked, but her voice had gotten small.
Sighing, Spec rubbed Liv’s shoulders again. “I mean women who came here seeking asylum, mostly from Mexico and Cuba, I’m guessing, but managed to land themselves, very unwillingly, I might add, in the middle of a prostitution ring.”
“You-you’re talking human trafficking,” Brenna whispered.
“I am.” Spec nodded.
Instead of looking at Spec, she straightened and spoke directly to Lock, “Then I’ll do anything you need as long as you promise me one thing.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“You make it so he can’t ever use his inadequate pencil dick to hurt another woman.”
Lock’s lips twitched. He took two steps forward and extended his arm across the table, offering her his hand. “One castration coming up.”
Brenna slid her palm along his. The second their skin came in contact, he sucked in a breath.
Did she feel it? The bolt of lightning streaked straight to his core.
Fuck, this woman was going to be trouble. He was trying to get his life back on track. The last thing he needed was a woman who gave him a constant hard-on living in his house. He couldn’t fuck her. Not if he wanted the club to take his promise of commitment and loyalty seriously, and that was his number one priority. Well, that and Caleb.
Brenna nodded. “Deal.”
And with that one word, Lock realized the coming days would be a challenge like he’d never experienced.
CHAPTER FIVE
IF BRENNA MADE it through the day without a major screw-up that caused a client to leave her a scathing one-star review, she’d consider it a miracle. By eleven in the morning, she’d missed a virtual meeting, ordered the wrong cabinet hardware for a commercial client, and spilled not one but two cups of hot coffee on one of her favorite sandals, scalding her toe. Her concentration was shit, and it didn’t take a skilled investigator to uncover why.
Lack of sleep plus constant obsessing over the bizarre situation she found herself in had her hands fumbling and her mind a chaotic mess of runaway thoughts.
“Dammit,” she muttered as she pulled her car too far forward in the parking spot, scraping the curb. A glance in the rearview mirror revealed a smirk on the face of the biker who had the unlucky job of babysitting her all day.
A prospect, they’d called him—some barely-old-enough-to-drink kid on a mission to join the MC. He was nice enough and had stayed out of her hair throughout the day but never far from sight, watching her like a hawk.
Had he been reporting back to Lock or Spec all morning? Maybe he skipped them and went straight to the top of the food chain, giving Curly a rundown on her clumsy morning. With a sigh, Brenna backed her car up a few inches and then killed the engine. In about thirty minutes, she had a meeting scheduled with a new client at her favorite coffee shop. She’d arrived early, planning to spend her time wisely and get her head in the game.
Maybe if she gave herself a dedicated chunk of time to think about her problems, she could shove them aside when it came time to perform her job like the professional she claimed to be.
As she exited the car, her gaze went to her warden. Should she offer to buy the guy a drink? A snack? How did this work? She’d never had an MC prospect tailing her all day.
The thought had her snorting out a laugh, which earned her a head tilt and a curious eyebrow raise from her babysitter. “You should wear a helmet,” she called out on impulse. Seriously, why wouldn’t he wear a helmet? The kid was way too young to splatter his brains across the highway.
He laughed. “I’m good, darlin’,” he said as though they were flirty friends instead of people who’d met that morning. And what was he, nine years younger than her?
She rolled her eyes. “It’s your funeral. Maybe literally,” she muttered the last part.
This time, her comment earned her a wink and a smirk.
Brenna huffed and turned her back on him as she walked toward the entrance. He could get his own damn coffee.
“Sit by the front window,” he called out. “So I can keep an eye on you.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled but lifted a hand to acknowledge his command.
