Page 4 of Coty

“How’s Emily doing tonight?” Bankz asks.

“It’s not the bakery, but she’s holding her own out there.” I’ve kept my eye on her all night.

Bankz looks down at me. “Just so you know, if I hadn’t known we were going to be shorthanded tonight, I wouldn’t have hired her.”

“You still shouldn’t have,” Hendrix grumbles.

“Why? Emily’s great with customers. She runs the bakery without any problems. Nearly everyone here tonight knows her. She’s doing great.” I don’t understand what the problem is here.

Bankz shakes his head. “I’m not saying she’s a bad server.”

“Then what are you saying?” I put my hands on my hips and glare at my boss.

“Emily’s sweet. She’s been a friend of the club since high school, if not longer. She belongs in a bakery.” He looks across the room at Emily again. “This place isn’t sweet.”

“I know,” I whisper. Oh, how I know.

The Roadhouse can get rowdy and rough. Hendrix is our best line of defense. He owns the gun shop and shooting range. He’s also Bankz’s best friend. On weekends, he’s the head bouncer here.

“Just keep an eye on her.” He nods once to me and again to Hendrix before joining a few club members at a table in the back corner.

Hendrix finally sits on the bar stool. He rests his forearms on the bar and watches me for a moment. “How much does she need?”

“What?” I play dumb.

He sees right through me. “Emily Powell needs money. How much? And why?”

“Sorry, big guy. If I knew those answers, I couldn’t give them to you.” I know, but friend code is a big deal to me. I won’t break Emily’s trust.

“Is she in danger?”

I pause and bite my thumbnail.

“Kayla.” Hendrix’s voice hardens. “Emily is a club friend. She gets club protection. Is. She. In. Danger?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t…” He growls deeper this time.

“Look.” I hold both hands up. “If at any point I think she needs help, I’ll let you know.”

Emily needs help, but not the kind he’s referring to. Well, I don’t think so anyway. She gets worried a lot lately, but she hasn’t sounded like she was scared. Maybe she’s not telling me everything.

Hendrix glances over his shoulder at Emily. She’s writing down the order for the ladies next to Blake’s table. She’s laughing and having a nice time. Nothing looks out of place with her.

He turns back to me. “I know you trained her for this night over the past couple of weeks.” I open my mouth to deny it. He holds up a finger. “You did. You two met almost every day after the bakery closed. Did you at least give her some tips on how to protect herself?”

I glare at him like he’s an idiot. “Of course I did.” I jab my finger at him. “And just so you and everyone else know, Emily already knows how to protect herself.”

I love these guys. They really are idiots half the time. A woman can’t hang out with a motorcycle club for most of her life and not pick up tips on protecting herself.

“She’s had defensive training?” He looks hopeful.

I quickly smash it. “No, not that I know of.”

“Then how can you be sure? Is it worth taking a chance on something happening to her?” He’s got a good point.

I look away and lower my voice, “Jay gave her a knife.”

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