Dog and the prospect continue past me, leaving Ryan to straggle behind. She stops before me, and now that she’s up close I can see that her eye makeup has run and she’s smeared most of it off—all except for a line that runs from the outer corner of one eye to her temple. I reach out, and she stiffens, yet allows me to rub it off with the pad of my thumb.

“There,” I say, pulling back to admire my handiwork. “You look less like a crazy fuckin’ clown, and more like a girl who chose not to wear much makeup.”

She rolls her eyes, and I get rewarded with a small smile. “Way to make a girl feel special.”

“Darlin’, the fact you’re standin’ here and they didn’t shoot you for trespassin’ says you’re special.”

Her gaze darts over my shoulder. “I knew the young guy wouldn’t have done it; he doesn’t look like he’d hurt a fly. But the other one, I didn’t really trust him when he said we’d be waiting out front for you to show up. Half expected him to take me for a long walk off a short pier.”

“You’re safe with him; they haven’t got to that part of his initiation yet.” Her eyes go wide, and I let loose a chuckle, coaxing her on toward the clubhouse with a hand to her back. “Dog’s harmless. Does an all right job of looking tough, but he’s good fun.”

“To you, maybe.” She gives Dog a nod of thanks as we pass him holding the door open. “Are they all like these two?”

“You’re about to find out.” I might have laughed at her apprehension, found it cute, but even from where we stood in the entrance hall I could feel the wrath of King.

Shit’s about to get ugly.

“Just stick close, yeah?” I shunt her into my side with a well-placed hand to the hip. “Not everyone is so friendly with outsiders.”

As though to prove my point, two of the regular club sluts emerge from the backyard. One pulls her under-sized top down over her plastic rack, while the other gives Ryan a look that could melt rock as she opens her mouth. “Back for more, Bronx?”

I flash her a bored glance and continue towards King’s office, turning to ask Dog, “He’s in there?”

“Yeah,” he answers, snagging Plastic Tits about the waist. “He’s expectin’ you.”

“Are we in a biker clubhouse or a brothel?” Ryan murmurs beside me.

I pull her to a stop as we reach King’s closed door, and lean down to whisper in her face. “You want help from these guys—which I assume is why you risked your ass showin’ up here—then you best be actin’ like a good woman should, and speak when spoken to. Okay?”

She cocks her eyebrow. “A good woman?”

“Yeah,” I challenge. “A good woman. The kind of woman who knows how to keep herself out of trouble with people like this.”

She nods, her lips tightly twisted to one side. So what if she ain’t happy about it? As long as she shuts the hell up and listens to what King has to say, we’ll be fine . . . I think.

I knock on the pres’s door and open it up a fraction, poking my head inside. A bottle whistles past my ear and smashes on the wall beside me, showering me in tiny fragments while I turn my head to avoid getting glass in my eyes. “Fuck, man!”

King places a hand on the top of his desk and launches himself over it, marching toward where I’m shielding Ryan with my body. His tattooed arm snakes out, grasping me by the front of my shirt, and hauling me into the room as I try to break his hold with the back of my forearm. “Excuse us a minute, sweetheart.” He slams the door in Ryan’s face and shoves me roughly into the seat before his desk. “What the ever-loving fuck have you done, asshole? Why does she—one of Eddie’s bitches—know you’re affiliated with us? I warned you what would happen if you started thinkin’ with your dick, boy. You ready for this?” He starts rolling the already un-cuffed flannel shirt further up his arms.

“Are you goin’ to hear me out?” I ask, pushing out of the chair and standing toe-to-toe with the guy. “Ever crossed your pussy-starved mind I might have a reason?”

“What fuckin’ reason could you have for waving a fucking big banner around tellin’ everyone who you are? What the fuck is the point to any of this if you’re goin’ to throw it all away on one woman?” He places both hands on my shoulders, giving me a hard shove. “Fuck, man. You’ve only been there a few weeks.”

Both of our heads whip about as the door cracks open. “Can I come in and explain?” Ryan asks from the safety of the far side.

“No!” we both shout in unison, causing her to shut the door in a damn hurry.

“She needs our help,” I whine, like the fucking sissy I am. I pinch the bridge of my nose out of sheer frustration; every time I open my mouth, my justification for my actions proves how pathetic they are.

“With what?” King asks. “Figuring out how Eddie’s going to fuck us over next?” He presses a fist into the palm of his other hand, popping knuckles.

“No!” I scissor my feet, preparing for the inevitable. “She needs to get in contact with the Devil’s Breed. I thought you might be able to help with that.” If I thought the bastard was angry before, I was fucking mistaken. His face grows red, and his nostrils flare. I backtrack to place the chair between us. “What? What the fuck did I say now?”

“Devil’s Breed?” King nods, his eyes wider than a madman. “You want me to talk to the fucking Devil’s Breed?”

“Dude,” I cry out, exasperated. “I’m askin’ here. If it’s impossible, tell me. I’m not a fuckin’ biker. I don’t know if you assholes get along or not.”

“Exactly,” King snaps, driving a fist into the top of his desk and leaving it planted there. “You ain’t one of us. You’re here because one of my officers fucked it all up with his boy way back when, and stupidly, I agreed to get us tangled up in this.”

“Hey,” I say, pointing a finger his way and stepping out from behind the chair. “You said yourself that Carlos is after more than us now. You said yourself that he’s got beef with you as well.” I steal a look at his office door, wondering how Ryan’s getting on alone.

“Dog will be watching her,” King says, reading my mind. “And yeah, fucker, I did say that. But shit wouldn’t be so complicated if it weren’t for you assholes.”

“Wouldn’t it?” I ask. “Because if I’m workin’ this out right, your club would be runnin’ from the Koreans about now if we didn’t have a way for you to earn enough to cover the debt.”

King sighs, slamming both hands to his forehead and gripping his hair between his fingers. “Be the president, they said. You’ll straighten this club right out, they said.” He shakes his head in his hands. “Didn’t tell me the place was so fuckin’ screwed from the get go.”

“Would it have made any difference if you did know?” I ask, knowing damn well what he was going to say.

“No.” He drops his hands and walks around the desk to take his seat. “Still would have helped those sorry fucks out anyway.” He sighs, waving a hand at the door. “Let the girl in.”

I step over and pull the door wide, finding Ryan backed up to the wall beside it with her arms crossed over her body protectively while she watches the brothers eyeballing her around the common room. “Get in.”

She takes a wide step sideways and slips through the door like a startled rabbit. King watches her warily from his position across the room, elbows on his desk and hands folded in front of his mouth. She glances up at me for help on what to do.

“Take the seat,” I offer, pointing to the only free chair.

She sits down, eyeing King as her hands do a jig in her lap.

“What do you need from us?” King barks from behind his hands. “Who is it you know at the Devil’s Breed?”

“Harris,” she answers, barely a whisper. “I knew, Harris.”

King rolls his eyes back and makes a dramatic show of dropping his head on the desk between his arms. “It just keeps gettin’ better,” he moans into the wooden top. “Why? What the fuck did I do in another life to get dumped with this?”