“An insult to you is an insult to me,” he said calmly.
That’s precisely what she wanted to hear. Their united front had to be a two-way street. She had his back and he damn well better have hers.
“And that’s why I handled it.” She patted his chest and gave him a sweet smile. He wasn’t winning this one. The sooner he realized it, the better.
His hand dropped from her arm. “I’m not sure I approve of this new gangster attitude.”
Laughter bubbled up. “New? You’ve met Laverne. I got it from my momma.”
Hillary entered the room pushing a bottle cart of premium liquor. She stopped short seeing Jentry and Harden, gave a quick nod of acknowledgment, and rushed over to the bar.
What’s with the shy mouse routine? Jentry shouldn’t complain when it was better than Hillary panting over Harden like she was before.
“Here’s the rundown,” Harden said, bringing her back to the reason they were here. “Basically, say hello and leave.”
“No problem.” She gave him a mock salute, causing him to grin.
“Boss. They’re here,” one of his men said.
The grin and the warmth she found in his eyes faded. All the warmth in his body leeched out of him. Goose bumps flashed across her skin. She shivered and said a silent prayer he never ever looked at her like that.
Jentry followed Harden out of the room. She faded from his side to walk behind him. His arm snaked around her waist and she was right back where she wanted to be, at his side.
They took the freight elevator one level down to the basement where the staff locker rooms were situated at the end of a hallway in the opposite direction of the pool, sauna, and private massage rooms where whatever kink got you off could be indulged—for a price.
She glanced that way as they walked past, not expecting to see anyone, and didn’t. Harden said the place was abandoned. So why was the door ajar? Was there staff down here?
Marilyn exited the locker room, smoothing her skirt over her hips. She spotted the entourage and halted, her gaze skimming the men, landed on Harden, then shifted to Jentry. The grim lines of her face tightening.
Then she was gone in the opposite direction toward the elevator. Jentry moved on down the hallway. They stopped at the white metal door to the alley, the entrance used by the staff. One of his men rapped on the door. Someone responded on the other side.
“Why didn’t you wait for them in the game room?” she whispered.
“Would you enter an unknown, possibly hostile environment without the person that invited you present?”
She shrugged. “Whether he does or doesn’t won’t stop you from killing him if that’s your desire.”
Pavel snorted next to her. “Sexy and smart.”
Harden squeezed her waist as the door opened and the Black Dragons entered. Four men. African American. She couldn’t guess who led the group when they all wore the exact same thing: jeans, boots, black sweater, leather jacket with the cut over it. They were attractive men, big, strong, bearded. Two had locs. The other two with military buzz cuts.
One stepped forward. The shortest of the bunch but still taller than her, with a buzz cut head. He was unpolished, rugged in his worn jeans, scruffed boots and broken in leather jacket, and very handsome with his full beard and long locs. His sharp gaze took in his surroundings and the men greeting him.
Then his gaze settled on her. Darted to Harden. Then back to her. For a split second, his eyes narrowed. She guessed at his thoughts. Black female standing too close not to be on purpose. Standing too close to be a random female. Standing too close to be dismissed.
“Tripler. Welcome to Catalyst.” Harden stepped forward with his hand extended. They shook and Harden turned to her.
How would he introduce her? Girlfriend? Lover? Special friend? Now was a great time to wonder.
“This is Jentry. My lady.”
Her heart melted just a little. Nope, a lot. Tripler nodded respectfully. “Nice to meet the woman that caused quite a stir.”
The temperature in the hallway dropped.
“Not surprising from such a beautiful woman.”
Jentry smiled. “Thank you for the compliment. I was raised to stir things up.” She held out her hand. He shook it, without looking at Harden for approval. She glanced at Harden, bracing for his reaction.
There was none other than to throw her a wink and pat Tripler on his shoulder. “Follow me for a drink and conversation.”
Jentry stepped away. “Well, I will say goodnight to you all.” She needed her coat but would wait for them to leave before retrieving it.
Harden brought her back to his side. His hand stroked the length of her back. “Stay.” He kissed her temple and kept her by his side as they returned to the game room.
Go. Stay. Go. Stay. The man needed to make up his mind.
She didn’t have a seat at the table, and she really didn’t want one. Pavel brought her a chair and she sat against the wall, behind Harden, silent as a tomb along with a host of bodyguards.
The banter was light. The jokes easy. She really didn’t pay much attention. Her focus was on Hillary and Marilyn serving drinks. Both were more than capable of serving the entire room on their own if they weren’t both off their game. Hillary dropped a long neck. The bottle rolled over the carpet, spilling beer everywhere it traveled. She squealed, then cried like she’d committed a capital offense. Jentry jumped up to help.
“I’m s-s-sorry,” she whispered in a broken sob.
Jentry had never seen Hillary so flustered. “It’s okay. Go and get yourself together. I’ll help if Marilyn needs me.” She looked over at Marilyn serving drinks with a shaky hand. She was jittery and distracted, her gaze flitting everywhere and not on the task at hand. Was something in the air turning two competent women into blubbering, nervous messes?
“Are you sure?” Hillary asked.
“Yeah. Go.” Jentry nudged her toward the exit. She grabbed a bar towel to sop up the mess.
“Let me do that.” Quincy offered, but she shooed him away. “I got this.” She smiled at him and lowered to the carpet. She felt eyes on her and glanced up to meet Harden’s frown.
Guess the girlfriend of the head of the syndicate shouldn’t be mopping up a spill. Oh well. Quincy gave her a hand, which deepened Harden’s frown. Her gut tightened and not completely in an unpleasant way. After all, she had shoved Marilyn into a wall. However, there was nothing between her and Quincy other than friendship.
“Thanks,” she murmured and returned the towel to the bar and herself to her chair. She’d just crossed her legs when a glass shattered and Marilyn cried out. Glass lay at her feet, and blood raced from her palm to her elbow. Conversation stopped and she became the focus of attention.
“Shit,” Marilyn hissed. “I don’t know when I got so clumsy.” Tears gathered in her eyes. She was a dam about to burst.
Jentry rushed over with a wad of linen napkins and pressed them to the wound. Marilyn winced and bit her lip, but she was in pain. “How bad is it?” Jentry asked, leading her to the bar on the other side of the room.
“I’m okay, really. It’s fine.” Marilyn’s voice hitched. “I’ll go to the locker room and put a Band-Aid on it. I’ll be right back.”
Jentry waved Quincy away. Scowling, he hovered in the doorway as she followed Marilyn into the hallway because something wasn’t right, and she was going to get to the bottom of it. “I know you don’t want to share, especially with me.” She did have Marilyn’s face cuddling the plaster earlier. “But are you okay?”
Red-eyed and pasty white, Marilyn shook her head. “I’m sorry I said those things to you. You’ve never seemed the vindictive type, but I-I don’t want to get hurt over bullshit.”
Oh. Now Jentry understood why Marilyn was losing it.
“I’m sorry, and when the meeting is over, I will personally apologize to Harden,” Marilyn said.
He’s not a monster, Jentry wanted to say. Followed by, You screwed him and
would screw him again if I weren’t in the way, yet you act like he’s a raving lunatic.
This was not what she wanted. She wasn’t the person to wield power through other people. Especially not her boyfriend. “Please, calm down. I swear. Nothing will happen to you. Certainly not because I want it. I promise.”
Marilyn sighed, her entire body sagging in relief. “Thanks.” She chewed the inside of her cheek, bringing a spot of color to her face. “Look. I know it means nothing coming from me, but… I’ve seen him with a few women.”
Jentry stiffened, uncertain where the conversation was going and if she wanted to hear it.
“No one he was serious about, including me,” Marilyn continued. “It’s different with you. He’s present with you, where he wasn’t with me or anyone I’ve seen him with.”
Out of respect for her, Jentry hid her smile. “Thanks for telling me that. Now go get cleaned up and check on Hillary. I’ll hold down the fort.” She squeezed her good arm and returned to the room.
A quick glance showed a few empty glasses and bottles. The Black Dragons preferring the latter. She loaded up a tray and made the rounds, studiously ignoring Harden’s glare. She didn’t have a problem rolling up her sleeves and wading in the trenches. This was her job a few short weeks ago. Just because she was sleeping with the boss didn’t mean she was suddenly above it all.
She was more than eye candy. If Harden expected her to sit around and look pretty, waiting for him to show her some attention, he’d get over his disappointment.
Or wouldn’t. Better to know now rather than later.
She served the beers, then the drinks. Harden and his men preferred whiskey. She placed his glass of Jack Single Barrel in front of him. He took her hand, keeping her from drifting away. He surprised her when he pushed back from the table and escorted her back to the bar.
She went behind the counter while he stayed on the opposite side. He glanced over his shoulder to see if he was missed, and not a single head was turned their way.
Harden stared at her. She couldn’t guess his mood in his neutral gaze, but he didn’t seem pissed off. “How goes it?” Then needing to clarify, she added, “I don’t want details.”
“Well. Things are wrapping up. I have some business to take care off after this. Time for you to go home.”
“Oh.” She hated being dismissed, and that’s what this was, a dismissal. “I can stay and clean up after you leave.”
“No.” His voice was sharp enough to cut. “You’ve done enough. Go home.”
Back stiff, she wiped her hands on a clean bar towel and exited from behind the bar. He hooked her waist and drew her in until she was flush against him, in full view of everyone. She tried to lock down her muscles, but her body had a mind of its own when it came to him. Right now, she didn’t like it.
He leaned in, his warm breath fanning her cheek, sending sparks down to her nipples and core. “I don’t want you here for the nuts and bolts. Understand.”
It didn’t mean he didn’t trust her. It was to protect her. Even though she truly wasn’t listening to the discussion, he was right. It was time to leave.
“The only reason I wanted to stay was to be with you,” she murmured and pressed a kiss to his stubbled jaw.
He groaned quietly. “Don’t make me embarrass myself and drag you out of here to fuck you.”
There went her stupid heart melting again. “Alright. I’m outta here.” After she checked on Marilyn and Hillary.
Chapter Fifty-Two
“Your coat and purse are in the opposite direction,” Quincy said when Jentry took a left instead of a right.
“I know, but I’m not leaving until I check on Hillary and Marilyn. It’ll take a second to make sure they’re okay.”
Quincy grunted and mumbled something she didn’t catch as he took out his phone and started texting.
“Who are you texting?” she asked, certain it concerned her.
“Letting Mr. Gage and Mr. Neritti know we’re delayed.” He cranked his head around and spoke to one of the men following. “Get her things and bring the car to the basement entrance.”
“See. Problem solved.” Not that it was a problem. Quincy meant well and was a sweetheart, even if he was overprotective. The trio piled into the elevator.
He grumbled something too low to hear and grunted at her pointed glare. He really was too cute with his dark hair and equally dark eyes. Jentry thought about Jane and wondered if her sister would kill her if she set her up with him. Whatever Jane had with Nick had apparently fizzled. Quincy was a good guy. Jentry wouldn’t mind him joining the family.
Cart before horse much? She shoved her matchmaker plans aside and exited the elevator. A cold wind whipped down the hallway. She wouldn’t give Quincy the satisfaction of admitting she needed her coat. The exit to the alley was around the corner. Someone must’ve just left if she could see her breath.
Instead of backtracking for her outerwear, she pressed on and entered the staff lounge. Expecting to find both women, she found neither, though the first aid kit was on the Formica dinette. The room was really too small for the amount of staff. Maybe she could do something about that since she knew the owner.
She pushed open the women’s locker room door with Quincy on her heels. “Ah, no. You are not coming in.”
He scowled. “It won’t be my first time seeing a pair of tits, among other parts.”
“Well, you’re not seeing theirs. Stay here.” She ordered him and the other bodyguard.
Jentry pushed on the locker room door and entered. L-shaped, the room was fairly large for the female staff with showers available and two entry points. The one she entered through and one around the corner closest to the exit in the alley. Her heels weren’t quiet on the concrete floor, but she wasn’t trying to sneak up on anyone.
“Marilyn? Hillary? Where are you?” She didn’t have time to consider the quiet and lack of response as she rounded the corner and found Marilyn sprawled on the floor, her eyes open and fixed, blood leaking from a hole between her head.
“No.” The word was a long, barely audible hiss, not the scream it should’ve been. She should’ve run, not drop to her knees as if CPR would’ve brought Marilyn back to life. In truth, Jentry was in shock. She’d never seen a dead body. This wasn’t a funeral home where one expected to see a body laid out in sweet repose. This was the floor of a woman’s locker room. The freshly dead, a woman she’d just had a conversation with, after we had an altercation. Why did her inner voice sound like a detective interrogating her?
She reached out to touch Marilyn’s hand and drew back. Touching her was a really bad idea. Have to tell Harden.
Gunshots echoed in the hallway outside the exit nearest to the alley and the hallway leading to the freight elevator. No! Not again. The door leading to the lounge swung open. Frightened out of her wits, she yelped, landing on her butt, and scooted nowhere.
It was Quincy rushing to her side. His face grim, he grabbed her arm—fingers bruising through her sleeve—and hauled her to her feet. “Hide! I’ll lead them away.”
“Who?”
“Don’t know yet, but I’ll take an educated guess. Colin O’Rourke.” Quincy shoved her toward the showers. “Don’t come out until I come for you.”
She stumbled into the open room; the clickety-clack of her heeled boots announced her presence. Survival instincts back online, the first thing she did after hitting the lights and hiding in the last stall behind the glass door was to remove her shoes and curse herself for not getting a weapon from Quincy.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
That’s it. Once this was over, she would live at the gun range and do whatever she had to get her concealed permit. That’s if she survived this to make it to a gun range.
Harden. Did he know what the hell had happened? Or was he already dead? Not Harden. He was alive and coming for her. She just had to hold out. Any second now, he’d barge in here and save her.
Any second…
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The door closed behind Jentry and the pleasantries were done. It was time to talk money, delivery, and protection.
Harden let his underbosses take the lead and lay out the nitty gritty, all the ins and outs of the deal on the table. Tripler handled the negotiation personally. Either he was hands-on, or he didn’t trust his men around him. Harden found forcing his allies to deal with Pavel, Leonid, Nick, and Bruno kept them off balance. Invariably, his allies attempted to infiltrate his organization through one of his men. They found out the hard way the loyalty between his men wasn’t frayed and wouldn’t break. He trusted all of his men with his life, as they trusted theirs with him.
The deal on the table was a good one, for both sides, more so for the syndicate because, in the end, they could find another MC to fulfill their needs, even if it took a while. The delay wouldn’t be a hardship. However, by all reports—a.k.a. the word on the streets—the Black Dragons were cash strapped. They had some setbacks in a war with a rival gang and came out on top with greater territory, but not enough product to meet the need. There was more to the supply than meth and marijuana. The list, innumerable.
The discussions were amiable. Everyone at the table wanted to make money. The Black Dragons were tired of bleeding.
So why was Harden uneasy? The conversation swirled around him, yet his attention wasn’t in the room. He never claimed to be psychic; however, his instinct had never steered him wrong. And right now, his instinct was screaming.
Harden freed his 9mm and stood, the weapon in his hand, resting on the table in front of him. The room went silent. Conversation over. All eyes on him.
“Ah, Harden?” Leonid’s hesitant voice filled the quiet.
Harden quelled Leonid’s and everyone else’s speculation with an icy glare. Someone shifted in their seat while the wheels squealed as another pushed back from the table. Harden’s lips peeled back in a silent hiss and…
That’s when a thud sounded, something solid landing on the floor on the other side of the door. Followed by another, and a shout before another body hit the door and tumbled away.
Plain Jane and Mr. Wrong (Plain Jane Series Book 4) Page 39
