Page 85 of Silver Fox Daddies

I take out my phone.

Me: Hey, I know I’m not supposed to be doing this, but I’m outside of the clubhouse right now. I wouldn’t be here unless it was urgent…also super exciting.

A text is fired straight back.

Cash: I would turn back now if I were you.

Me: What? But I came all of this way.

Cash: Melissa. Do as I say.

Cash has never spoken or texted me in this tone before. Is something wrong?

What if they’re in trouble?

I walk forward, closing the distance between me and the clubhouse. If they’re in danger, maybe I can help. As a librarian majoring in veterinary medicine, I’m not sure how I could be ofservice to a bunch of motorcyclists under attack, but I’ll figure out something.

Something more pressing pops into my head.

What if there was another attack?

What if one of them is seriously injured?

I beeline for the clubhouse until I’m climbing the stairs up onto the veranda and inviting myself in.

A hundred something heads turn my way in unison.

None of them are smiling.

Not even my men.

My spirit shudders. Nerves creep under my skin. I take a step back toward the door, uneasy about the way they’re looking at me. They stare at me like I’m the enemy, poison in their eyes. I cower back, suddenly aware that I’m one girl against some of the most cutthroat men in Nevada. I stand no chance.

I turn to Cash. He has a regretful look on his face, eyes full of disappointment.

And that’s arguably worse than hate.

“Traitor!” one of them shouts.

Others start to follow.

“What are you doing back here, traitor?”

“She’s come to gather more intel on us.”

“I knew there was something up with her.”

“All she has is a pretty face.”

“Underneath all of that, she’s just like her bastard father.”

“Black heart. Black soul.”

Bishop, Cash, and Diesel stand there staring at me like I’ve sinned past the point of forgiveness. I’m rendered frozen, legs unable to move even though I want them to. Instead, my body forces me to look at all three of them. A tear slips from my eye, blurring my vision. More follow, but I don’t even have the strength to lift my hand and wipe them away.

“Don’t cry, baby girl.”

“I’ll give it to her. She’s a good actress.”

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