Page 26 of Magnetic Temptations

“If it makes you feel better, it’s been put on hold until Hydro can bring it to the table and discuss changing things up,” Gunner informs me.

“There has to be a better way to find out if a woman is compatible with the club,” I insert. “Maybe she could be on a ninety day probation?”

“Like a tryout? Isn’t that the same thing?” Mane poses the question.

“Baby girl,” Gunner sighs.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, waving her hand dramatically through the air. “Club business, I know.”

“If you want to help change things and if you want your voice heard, do like Ella did and join the club,” Gunner suggests.

Mane’s eyes become saucers, and her body shivers as she spits out each word individually, “No. Thank. You.” A bark of laughter escapes me as I side-eye her. Her body language alone, at that suggestion, tells me I’m in for a world of trouble with this whole prospect gig.

Through the hours of travel, Gunner shares with me what I can expect during my prospect period. Some of it makes me gag, especially the thought of cleaning the men’s communal bathroom, bleaching the clubhouse after parties where people have gotten sick after consuming too much alcohol, and being an all-around bitch boy. Blood doesn’t faze me as much as vomit does.

There’s something about the odor and look of someone’s emptied stomach contents that makes my stomach turn.

Violently.

Then I end up having more of a mess to clean than originally because the stench and texture usually has me upchucking. I could’ve never been a doctor or a nurse because I’d be the first one hauling ass from the room the moment someone started a gag fest.

When we’re less than ten minutes out, Gunner pulls out his weapons and begins checking the clips. Watching him, I notice that one of his guns ends up tucked beneath his cut and now I understand why he’s kept it glued to his lap since we pulled out of the compound.

When we cross Trucktown’s city limits, his entire body grows rigid, he becomes laser focused as his eyes stay sharply trained on our surroundings. The rest of the guys pull back and turn into Lacossa’s only motel parking lot, where they’ll be staying until tomorrow unless we call them in.

As we pass all of the abandoned facilities and warehouses, Gunner’s forehead creases. “Used to be a boomtown, I take it?”

“It was way back in the day,” I answer. “Then our town went through a depression of sorts, companies moved to larger cities and we became a ghost town.”

“All those people out of work,” Mane wistfully sighs. “I bet hunger grew rapidly in these parts.”

“Still an issue for over half of the town folk here,” I respond. “Farming became the way of life. Some became successful while others fell flat on their asses.”

The cab grows silent as we think of those who barely had enough loose change to rub together to buy a slice of bread. My family happened to be one of the success stories, which is why we have so many ranch hands living on our land. They got to stay in their hometown and they work hard for the roof over their heads. We built small townhomes on the property so their families could stay together.

My family is all about their community. We couldn’t in good conscience step aside and watch our friends starve and flounder as the banks foreclosed on their homes a few short months after they lost their only source of income.

It isn’t long before we pull through the gates and stick to the road leading to Maverick and Myles’ double-wide. When we get to their dirt driveway, I notice Mav leaning on the railing, a mug of coffee in his hand. He must’ve spent the night scouring the town and got to bed early this morning because he looks like he’s only got an hour or so of sleep. The dark bruises under his eyes are prominent enough that I can see them from here.

“That’s Maverick,” I point out to the occupants of my truck.

“Let’s go see if he’s found anything since you spoke with him last night,” Gunner orders, opening up his door and hopping out the second I shut down the engine.

“It’s going to be okay, Mason. Deep breaths,” Mane says, leaning over and pecking me on the cheek.

I hope the man above heard her and takes her words to heart because my family won’t survive the ramifications from losing one of their own.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

MANE

I grabbed Mason’s leather from the middle console and slid it over his shoulders once we rounded the truck and met at the hood. “Thanks,” he murmured to me but his eyes never strayed from his brother.

Hand in hand, we walked to the front porch. Once the two brothers were an arm’s length away from each other, they jumped and ended up in a backbreaking hug.

“Any word on Myles?” Mason asks Maverick.

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