Page 62 of Brick's Retribution

This simple escort run has sucked the life out of me.

We walk in the garage area and see brothers working on bikes.

"Brick!" Compass voice cuts through the noise.

He's bent over his bike, grease covering his hands, but his face breaks into a relieved grin when he sees me. "Fuck, man, Prez has been asking about you."

Other heads turn our way, and I can see the curious glances as the brothers take in Imani.

She doesn't flinch at the rough language or the casual display of weapons hanging on the walls.

If anything, she looks right at home, which surprises me more than it should.

"This is Imani Torres," I say, making the introduction clear. "Alejandro's goddaughter."

The mention of Alejandro's name gets immediate respect.

Boulder emerges from the other side of the garage, his ol’ lady, Kelsey, right behind him.

Relief floods his scarred face when he sees us. "About damn time, brother."

"Good to see you too," I reply, accepting the bone-crushing handshake he offers.

Kelsey steps forward, her smile warm as she looks at Imani. "You must be Amara's friend. She's mentioned you."

"All good things, I hope," Imani replies with a slight smile.

I can see her assessing the room, searching faces and I swear she’s looking for potential threats.

She won’t find any here—she’s safe.

"Where's Amara?" I ask, looking around the garage for our president.

"Office," Boulder replies, but there's something in his tone that makes the hair on my arm stick up. "She's been waiting for you. Both of you."

As we make our way through the clubhouse, I can feel the weight of curious stares following us.

"They're all looking at us," Imani murmurs quietly.

"They're curious," I correct. "It's not often someone brings a woman into the clubhouse who isn't a clubwhore, piece of ass, or an ol’ lady."

"And which am I?"

The question stops me cold.

What exactly is Imani to me? To the club?

The assignment was simple—transport and protect, but that's not what this is anymore.

"You're mine," I say simply, and the possessiveness in my voice surprises even me. "That makes you family."

Her smile in response transforms her entire face. "Good answer, prospect."

We reach Amara's office, and I can hear voices inside—multiple people, which is unusual for a standard debrief.

I knock once and wait for permission.

"Come in," Amara's voice calls out.

---