Chapter 3 #2
I ignore him. “You would stay here?” I ask. She hesitates, so I continue. “That’s the only way it’s gonna work. We can’t watch you twenty-four-seven otherwise.”
“Yes, I guessed as much,” she admits. It seems she knew it was inevitable, yet didn’t want it to be.
“For how long?”
“Until the threat is neutralized and we’re truly safe,” she says, seeming to have come to a decision.
I frown, wondering if she has fully considered what she’s asking. “That could take years.” I’m also wondering if she’s expecting us to neutralize the threat, but for now, I keep that to myself.
She meets my eyes. She refuses to back down. “Then we’ll renegotiate.”
Sloane Mercer is bold, calculated, and very, very stubborn.
I tap the folder against the table. “Protection like this isn’t free.”
“I know, hence my offer.”
“And it isn’t temporary,” I add, relishing the look of confusion on her face. This is an eventuality she hadn’t prepared for.
She tilts her head. “What do you mean?”
I glance at Boone and Cruz. They smirk, they both know exactly where this is going. I look back at Sloane. “If you stay under Iron Vale protection, you stay as my old lady.”
The words land heavily in the room, and the sounds of others chatting and laughing fall abruptly silent as they overhear. It’s a serious proposal, one we don’t take lightly.
Sloane blinks once. Then twice. She glances around, noticing the curious glances we’ve attracted and jealous glares from the club girls. “Your… what?”
“My woman.” Cruz coughs to hide a laugh. I keep my eyes on her. “In this club,” I say, “the president’s old lady has the highest protection we offer, and that protection extends to family. It’s the only way we can give you what you’re asking.”
She considers that. I can practically see the cogs turning. Her lawyer’s brain is working overtime. “So legally speaking,” she says slowly, “I’d be under the club’s official protection structure.”
“Exactly.” I smile and stroke my chin.
She pushes a loose strand of hair back from her face, gulping before choosing her words carefully. “And the relationship would exist… publicly.”
“Yes.”
Sloane fixes me in her gaze once more. “But privately?”
I lean forward slightly. “That depends,” I purr, my eyes trailing the contours of her face down her throat and beyond.
Her eyes narrow. “This is a power play.”
I shrug and lean back, spreading my hands wide. “Everything is.” I don’t need to add that this is the deal, she can take it or leave it.
Silence stretches between us. It looks like she’s deep in thought, considering her options. Which, if she’s come to us for help, must be very limited. After a few moments she speaks. “Okay.” She sits back, her eyes meeting mine in challenge.
“All right.” I study her for a moment. “Do you realize what you just agreed to?”
“Yes.” But there’s a flicker of hesitation now, hidden under her stubborn facade.
“You’re the president’s old lady now. My woman.”
“In name,” she says curtly, her smooth forehead furrowing for just a second in confusion as to why this is such a big deal.
Something about the way she says it makes me smile, just slightly, because she thinks this is an arrangement, a technicality. She has no idea what that title actually means inside a motorcycle club. I’m not in any hurry to explain it. She’s a smart cookie, she can figure it out.
“You’re stubborn,” I say instead, there’s no judgment in my tone, I rather admire it.
“So are you.”
I surveil her, acknowledging another fact. “You don’t scare easily.”
“No.” Her eyes hold mine, bright, sharp, and challenging.
I smile for real now; this is going to be interesting. Outside, I hear the faint creak of her car door opening. A small voice drifts toward the clubhouse. “Mommy?” I hear one of my men gently telling her that Mom’s inside.
Sloane turns toward the sound immediately, a flower moving toward the sun. “I should get her.”
I nod, standing. “Do you need to go home for your stuff?”
She shakes her head, a small, firm movement. “I came prepared.”
Of course she did. “Alright then, bring the kid in.”
She pauses at the door. “Rook?”
“Yeah.”
“If this arrangement becomes… complicated…”
“It will,” I assure her, an amused gleam in my eye as I admire the sight of her walking away.
Her mouth tightens. “I expect honesty. I’ll draw up a contract so we both know where we stand.”
I nod my agreement, leaning against the table. I’m not making any more promises today. Sloane sighs and turns, perhaps realizing that’s all she’s getting from me today, and walks outside to get her daughter.
Cruz chuckles the second the door closes. “You just married a prosecutor.”
I throw a peanut from the bowl on the table at his head. “Not married.”
Boone grins. “Close enough.”
I glance toward the window where I can see Sloane lifting a small girl out of the backseat. The kid wraps her arms around her mother’s neck, latching on like a baby monkey. Something unexpected shifts in my chest. Protecting a lawyer is one thing, but protecting a kid? That changes things.
Cruz leans back in his chair, throwing one of the nuts up in the air and catching it in his open mouth. “You realize you just started a war with a cartel,” he says casually, a hint of glee in his voice.
“Probably.”
Boone shrugs. “Reckon she’s worth it?”
I watch Sloane walking toward the clubhouse with her daughter in her arms. Strong, beautiful, and a danger magnet.
“Yeah,” I say. “I think Sloane Mercer might be worth it and then some.”