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Twitch stamped out his cigarette. “It could explain why the Black Jacks tried to kill her. Maybe they just want the ring. Twenty million is far more than fifty grand.”
Hawk sat back and closed his eyes. It was all beginning to make sense.
“Hawk,” Acid said. “You need to talk to her. If it’s true, we need that ring.”
He opened his eyes. “We can’t just take it from her.”
Eagle cussed loudly. “Regardless of what we do with the ring, we need to prepare. If this is all true, the Black Jacks will be coming back. And it won’t take them long to figure out she’s here.” He pointed at Hawk. “I bet that’s why Nine was here last night. He probably figured out you were tapping the Boston princess—probably at some skeevy roadside motel—and came looking for her.”
Acid raised an eyebrow. “So youwerefucking her?”
Hawk reluctantly nodded. He wanted to respond physically to Eagle’s accusation, with fists and knives, but the brother wasn’t wrong. He’d not taken security precautions when he’d been fucking Izzy every moment he could get away. He’d been far more interested in getting her naked than watching out for their enemy. Although, in his defense, it wasn’t like he’d known anything about this stupid ring or that anyone was looking for it.
“Before we decide anything, let me talk to her.” Hawk stared at Acid. “Let me talk to her. Alone.”
It took too long for Acid to say, “Yes. But once you confirm she has the ring, I want you to get it and give it to me. Then we’ll contact O’Cleary and make a deal. As a club. Together.”
He nodded, but the back of his throat burned.
“Brother?” Eagle asked softly. “Is this going to be a problem since you’ve been fucking her?”
“No.” He swallowed the bitter bile. “She’s just average pussy.” He stood and left the room, but his heart felt sore, like it was rubbing against his ribcage. He was happy he’d temporarily halted the club’s plan to send her back to her father. But there’s no way he could ask them not to take her ring without her permission. He knew the truth. If the club had to choose between him and twenty million dollars, the money would win.
And if they knew he’d fallen in love with her, he was already dead.
* * *
The two men, Drac and Volt, left Izzy in the huge industrial-sized kitchen and disappeared.
Three women, all in various forms of black lingerie, were cooking breakfast. The tantalizing smells of bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the room, and her stomach growled.
One of the women, a blond wearing a black lace slip, turned around holding a spatula. She smiled and waved Izzy over. “Hey! I’m Mandy.” She motioned to the two other women. “The tall one is Betsy.”
Betsy, a dark haired beauty who was almost six feet tall, wore a sheer black silk teddy and held out her hand. “Welcome.”
“I’m Hannah.” The petite woman with brown hair, wearing black lace bra and panties, gave Izzy a hug. “What’s your name?”
“Izzy.” She tucked stray hairs behind her ears. As a loner, she wasn’t used to such effusive greetings, especially from barely dressed women who were so pretty they made her feel like an old pumpkin. “I’m new.”
It was a silly thing to say, but she wasn’t sure how else to proceed.
“Come on.” Hannah took her arm and led her to the table. “You look hungry. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
“And here’s some coffee.” Betsy placed a mug of creamy coffee on the table and sat across from her, cradling her own cup. “So, who does your pussy belong to?”
She choked on her coffee and pulled a napkin from a holder to wipe her mouth. “Excuse me?”
“You know.” Betsy waved a hand toward the other women. “We all belong to a member of the club. Or many members.”
“You mean like an old lady?” She’d heard that term somewhere but had never understood what it meant.
"No.” Mandy laughed as she flipped pancakes. “We’re not old ladies.”
“Speak for yourself,” Betsy said sharply.
“Please.” Another woman entered the kitchen, and Izzy recognized her as Lara, the woman from the bar last night. This morning she wore teeny shorts that showed off her ass, and a halter top that looked more like a lace bra. “None of you are old lady material.”
Betsy smiled as she gave Lara a middle finger. “Says the woman who is fucking Eagle, a married man.”
