2. That Look
Chapter 2
That Look
Mensa
Mensa parked his bike behind the Riot MC clubhouse, swung off, and climbed the steps to the back door. He wanted to kick his own ass. A tall gin and tonic might help him take the edge off his shame. He didn’t threaten women, so it surprised him when he’d threatened Whitney. Her insinuating he was anything like his Uncle Jack sure as hell hadn’t helped matters.
She ticked all his boxes for what he didn’t want in a woman.
He’d convinced himself that she was hiding something. His conviction was so strong some of his brothers threatened to make him a tin-foil hat.
Inside the clubhouse, he went behind the bar in the common room.
“You got that look again,” Finn said, putting away a cue stick, moving to the bar, and settling on a stool.
“I don’t have a look,” Mensa muttered.
“When you’re stewing about Whitney, you do.”
Mensa kept his reaction in check by pouring gin over the ice cubes in his glass. “Not stewing. Just wondering how she fooled you and most of the other brothers.”
“She’s still pretty new to Biloxi. I got no reason to distrust her.”
“Her twin brother is an FBI agent, and that only came to light because of the investigation into my uncle.”
Finn shrugged a shoulder. “Since your uncle was abusing his power – he had that coming.”
Mensa added a splash of tonic and shook his head. “Not what I mean. She’s hiding something, and I’ll bet she’s part of the FBI, too. She lied to Riley—”
“Lied about what? They only discussed Riley’s dad once – assuming Whitney was in on the investigation.”
Mensa swallowed a sip of his drink. “How do you know they only talked about Uncle Jack once?”
Finn went behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of beer. “I asked Riley, because of how dead-set you are against Whitney.”
“Yeah. Bet Whitney’s a master at steering the conversation.”
Finn returned to his stool and took a swig of his beer. “You’re losing it, Mensa. She’s not from here and she’s helping her Aunt Nadia.”
“My gut says she could have been investigating the club.”
“So what if she was?” Block asked, sauntering to the bar and sitting next to Finn.
Har was a pace behind Block and nodded. “We got nothing to hide.”
Finn set his beer down. “Except Riley says Whitney’s between jobs… so she isn’t investigating shit.”
There it was, the thing that should have had them all on alert. Anyone who was ‘between jobs’ wouldn’t hang in Biloxi. They’d be fighting tooth and nail to get back on the job or finding another opportunity to make money.
He didn’t buy the excuse of taking care of her aunt either. Nadia was as fit as a fiddle, as far as Mensa knew. Taking care of her sounded like a cover – and a bad one at that.
Sandy bustled into the common room from the kitchen. “You better hope she sticks around, otherwise you boys are gonna be in a lurch when you need new patches stitched. Or when one of you decides to take an ol’ lady… you’ll have to special order a cut from out of town.”
“She’s officially hanging it up?” Block asked.
Sandy grabbed a lemon from a small fridge behind the bar and turned to Block. “Her arthritis is gettin’ worse, and she wants to travel.”
Finn caught Mensa’s gaze. “You got nothing to say to that?”
Mensa swallowed some of his cocktail. “No, because that’s the first true statement I’ve heard.” He arched his brows. “And none of that pertains to Whitney.”
Sandy strode back to the kitchen.
Finn lifted his beer bottle toward Mensa. “I stand by what I said months ago. One night, make an approach and hate-fuck her out of your system.”
Mensa glowered at Finn.
Block laughed. “No way. That shit don’t work. I’m proof.”
Finn smirked. “Yeah, and you’re happier for it.”
Block gave a small nod.
Mensa downed the rest of his drink and made another. “Block, you never hated Heidi.” He shifted his gaze to Finn. “It isn’t the same sitch here, Finn. Back off.”
Har leaned forward. “I want to know what you said to her at lunch. Her reaction made it clear she wanted to kick your ass.”
Mensa picked up his glass, ready to hit his room. “I told her to stay away from all of us or there’d be hell to pay.”
“You threatened her?” Block asked, his tone outraged.
“I’d never make good on it.”
“I don’t think she’ll give a damn about that, Mensa,” Block said.
Finn tossed his empty beer bottle into the trash. “Thought you were the smart one.”
“A woman can make any man crazy, Finn,” Har said.
A wide, knowing grin spread across Finn’s face. “You’re right, Prez, but Mensa says this isn’t like that.”
Mensa glowered at Finn. “Whatever. You assholes had your fun. I don’t plan to see her ever again. I’m headed to my room.”
Mensa closed his door just as his phone vibrated with a text. He opened the thread and saw a message from Cynic.
Tomorrow, you’re on for Open-Mic night
A half-hearted smile crossed his face. Part of him looked forward to the Open-Mic-slash-karaoke because he loved music so much. Another part of him hated it because it immediately brought Whitney to mind.
Last November, Sandy had roped Nadia and Whitney into helping her arrange an impromptu karaoke night at the clubhouse. The way Whitney had belted out “Devil Won’t Go” by Elle King made a lasting impression. She wasn’t as good as Riley, but she likely hadn’t had any training. He couldn’t deny that Whitney had a great fuckin’ voice.
Once he sent Cynic a text to tell him he’d be there, Mensa lay back on his bed with a book. Any other time, he’d watch a movie, but for the past three months he’d start a flick and compare the actress to Whitney. With her crystal blue eyes and shiny blonde hair, she was a stunner. Those fucking eyes, though – hers gleamed in a way he didn’t see from most women. She didn’t look like a California girl, she looked like the California girl’s cousin who could kick your ass if you said the wrong thing.
Fuck him, but he was curious about that. He had been since Finn and Riley tied the knot in the back yard of the clubhouse a month ago. Especially since Whitney had wasted no time cornering him to bitch about the tents. Someone – his money was on Victoria – had shared that he’d suggested the tents.
He’d more than suggested. He’d insisted on them in order to keep the women out of the clubhouse. Being insistent was risky, but Har had relented. It was good that he did, too, or Mensa might have lost his battle to his inexplicable attraction to Whitney.
All of Riley’s bridesmaids wore navy blue dresses, but they weren’t all the same type of dress. Whitney came down the aisle first in a halter-style gown, and Mensa’s fingers itched to tear the gauzy-looking fabric off her.
Recalling that vision of her, his mind wandered to what she was like in bed and he got angry with himself. The woman compared him to his crooked uncle, and the heat in her eyes made it clear she held a grudge against Mensa. There was no way he’d bring that woman to his bed. He snatched up his book with a disgruntled sigh, opened to the bookmark, and shoved thoughts of Whitney out of his mind.