Pierce leaned back against the glass display case that housed handguns. A lot of them.

After Jag left last night, Weasel had shown up to “stand guard” at her broken front door. Despite what Jag said, she invited him inside to hang on the couch. She wasn’t going to have him standing outside all night long.

Ridiculous.

Now three of the prospects were in her apartment replacing both her front door and bedroom door.

Instead of stopping down and having to explain to Ace about why her doors were kicked in, she had texted her brother Dex to tell him she needed to run an important errand and would be in later.

Ivy knew this errand might bite her in the ass, but her frustration with Jag was apparently driving her to do stupid things.

Though she was far from stupid.

Pierce had his arms crossed over his broad chest and his ankles crossed as he perused her. “When you gonna come work for me? Could use the help.”

She would never work for Pierce. He was a biker who wanted to remain in the old ways. Women were nothing but a doormat and a hole to bust a nut into. “Recruit more prospects. They’re cheap labor.”

“Doin’ that, but this is a gun shop, gotta trust everyone workin’ here an’ can’t have a record.”

“Annie’s helping you out still, right?” Speaking of Annie, Ivy wondered where she was. She didn’t want her aunt overhearing what she came to talk to Pierce about.

“Yeah, only part-time, though. Has to help take care of that bag o’ bones that’s your grandmother.”

She sighed. “You’re such a gem, Pierce.”

He shrugged. “Truth, though, right?”

Ivy shook her head. But she had to stay on good terms with the club president, so she bit her tongue.

He jerked his chin in the direction of the glass display case. “Need a gun?”

“No.”

“Sure? Can teach you to use it.”

Right. That’s what she needed... To have him teaching her how to shoot in his indoor range with no one else around. To him, she was club property and with him being president, he’d think he could have her whenever, wherever, he wanted. She wasn’t claimed by any of the brothers, so in his mind she was fair game. Didn’t matter if he already had an ol’ lady. Wasn’t unheard of for Pierce to take what he wanted.

Also didn’t matter to him that he was old enough to be her father. Pussy was pussy to a man like him.

Which reminded her to state her business and get the fuck out of Dodge before she regretted this whole thing. But she needed to handle it delicately. She really wasn’t supposed to know club business. None of the women were. Though, they did find out some of it... But if the brother who spilled the beans was caught? Not good for him.

However, this time it was Diesel that kind of gave up some of the info to her and Jewel, the rest she overheard from Dex and Ace. Plus, Jewel was a pro at sneaking around the garage, listening for anything interesting.

Luckily, Diesel could sing like a canary and no one would do anything to the man, except maybe pull his rank of Sergeant at Arms. Though if Pierce did that, he’d be stupid. Diesel was the best and scariest enforcer the club ever had. No one on the Executive Committee or even any of the brothers would back the president on a decision like that.

“If you ain’t here for a gun an’ you got somethin’ to say, say it, woman.”

She almost rolled her eyes at him, but she was proud of herself when she didn’t. “I accidentally overheard a conversation about getting one of Dawg’s girls to infiltrate the Knights for intel. Did you find someone?”

He cocked a brow at her. “Expect me to answer that?”

Fucker. “Yes, and I’ll tell you why... I have a proposition...” She pursed her lips as she gathered her thoughts. “You probably can’t trust one of the strippers to do the job right or know what info you need... so...”

“Fuckin’ woman, get to the fuckin’ point.” The impatience ran deep in his gruff voice. “All you bitches talk in circles.”

Ivy sucked in a breath and counted to five. Five wasn’t long enough but it would have to do. “I just think you should send someone in who’s not only smart and loyal to the club, but is part of the club, too. Someone who has some skin in the game.”

“You sayin’ Dawg’s girls ain’t smart?”

It was her turn to cock a brow.

A wide smile crossed his face. “Hear what you’re sayin’. You proposin’ somethin’?”

“Yes.”

“Who you suggest?”

“Me.”

Pierce quickly pushed away from the display case and Ivy instinctively stepped back, her heart racing.

“You?” he barked loud enough that she flinched. “You fuckin’ crazy?”

Probably. “No.”

“You don’t think they know who you are? With that fuckin’ red hair of yours? They don’t know you’re DAMC property?”

“I’ve never met any of them.” At least she didn’t think so.

“Good thing, that.”

“So why would they know who I am?”

“Hard to miss, Ivy. Any of ‘em ever come into the pawn shop when you’re workin’?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Couldn’t miss ‘em if they did. All of ‘em are black an’ would be wearin’ their colors.”

She already knew the Dark Knights were an all-black MC. That was no secret and hard to miss. And since she had a college education, she was sure she could read the words “Dark” and “Knights” on their cuts. Not that she was going to say that to Pierce. Now was not the time to be a smart ass.

“Then no, never saw any of them, never ran into any of them anywhere.”

“Lucky, then. Probably like a girl like you. All that white skin an’ red hair with that temper to boot.”

Temper? She didn’t have a damn temper.

Okay, maybe just a little one.

Before she could respond, he continued with a thoughtful expression, “Though, probably would like a girl like you. Probably swarm you like flies on shit. Try their chance at some sweet white pussy surrounded by a red bush.”

Ivy struggled not to roll her eyes, or even heave at his words. Sometimes Pierce was just a plain old obnoxious asshole. More than sometimes. How he ever got the gavel, she’ll never know. That’s what happened when you let men run things.

“Well, there you go. I’m perfect for it.”

“Why do you want to do this?”

Why? Because she’s crazy, that’s why. Did she want to help the club out? Sure. But that was just the excuse, not the real reason.

She didn’t want to admit to herself the real reason. And if she couldn’t face the truth herself, she certainly wasn’t admitting it to Pierce.

“Show my loyalty to the club,” she said simply.

He frowned. “When was that in question?”

She shrugged. “I’m not saying it was. But you guys need someone, right? Who better than me?”

He uncrossed his arms and ran a hand through his short salt and pepper hair, and down to his tattooed neck, which he squeezed as he stared at his boots for a moment. When he looked up, his gaze pinned on her hard. “Need to bring it to a vote.”

Shit. No. That wouldn’t work. She should have just done it and not told anyone, but she needed someone to know she was going in. Someone other than Jewel.

“No vote. You bring it to the committee and it’ll be shot down. And then what? Even if the Knights agree to a sit-down, you’ll be going in blind. Wouldn’t it be better to have some intel on what’s up first? Go in prepared?”

He shook his head. “Fuckin’ Ivy. Too damn smart for a female. Could run this club if you had a dick.”

“But I don’t. So let me do this.”

“Ace know you’re here?”

“No. No one knows.”

“Might wanna keep it that way.” He stared at her long enough she wanted to squirm. Finally, he sighed. “You go. Get what you can. Get out. Report directly to me.”

She nodded, trying not to smile.

“Careful what you gotta do to get intel, Ivy. Don’t need any of your blood breathin’ down my neck if you get knocked up by one of those Knights.”

She no longer had to fight back a smile, now she frowned. “It’s not going to get that far.”

“Hope not. Ain’t like they ain’t gonna try for a piece of you though. You bring fresh pussy into Dirty Dick’s, you know they gonna be sniffin’ hard. Maybe even fightin’ over you. Be prepared. Sure you don’t want a gun?”

“No, I’m good.”

Little did he know that she already had one. Ace got it for her a long time ago and taught her how to shoot it. She hardly ever carried it, though, and kept it locked away in one of the pawn shop’s safes. It was a little .38 snub nose and she doubted she could do much with it in the midst of a brotherhood of bikers who was sure to be packing lots of fire power. But she’d bring along a small container of pepper spray, just to be safe. And to give her a little peace of mind.

Suddenly Pierce stepped closer and before she could back up, he reached out and flipped a finger through the wavy ends of her hair.

“Damn, your hair is hot and feisty like you. Bet you’re searing hot in bed, too, ain’t ya? Jag get a piece of you yet?”

Should she say yes to get him off her back? If Jag claimed her as his, Pierce wouldn’t express interest. At least out loud. But she also didn’t want anyone in the club to know that Jag and her had hooked up.

Plus, Pierce would probably change his mind about her heading into Knights territory if he thought she belonged to Jag. He wouldn’t want to create any static with his Road Captain.

“No.”

“Sure you know you’re on his to-do list. Maybe you can give me a little taste first.”

When he reached for her, she shimmied away from his grasp and rushed to the front door. “Gotta go. Ace is waiting for me to get to the pawn shop. I’m late.”

“Right,” he grunted, looking a little put out.

Before the door almost shut completely behind her, she heard, “And, woman, we did not have this talk, got me?”

* * *

Jag gritted his teeth so hard he thought they might shatter. He parked his sled close to but not exactly in line with all the other bikes that sat in front of Dirty Dick’s. Even the glow of the neon beer signs didn’t do shit to light up the stone parking lot. But he could see a Dark Knights prospect standing guard in the shadows at that line of Harleys. The young guy was doing his time and whatever he was told to do to in order to patch in.

Been there, done that, he thought. He’d gone through all that bullshit himself over a decade ago and survived. This guy would, too.

The prospect probably texted someone when Jag rode in. Most likely their President or Sergeant at Arms. Someone who, no doubt, would greet him as soon as he stepped through the door.

After he kicked his stand down, he turned and noticed Ivy’s Charger parked in a very dark corner of the lot. That made his jaw tighten even more. She could be ambushed there, raped, and no one would see it or maybe not even care if they did.

The woman was fucked in the head for coming here alone. Hell, for coming here at all. Of all the hair-brained ideas she could come up with to piss him off... this was at the top of his list.

Putting herself in known danger.

And what was worse, not getting permission to do it. Or letting any of the brothers know. Diesel would bust a blood vessel for sure when and if he found out.

However, right now, he needed to get her out of there. And in one piece. If anyone was going to tear her apart for this stunt, it was going to be him. Not a Dark Knight.

And, for fuck’s sakes, if she slept with any of them...

He bit back a curse, his fingers clenching into fists.

Though he would never hit a woman, the thought of her fucking a Dark Knight to get information made him want to explode. He would make Diesel look like a newborn kitten.

He stood next to his bike and sucked the night air through his nose. He needed to get his shit together before walking into this nest of Knights to confront her. And maybe even them. All by himself.

He’d decided to come alone because he figured he could get in, get Ivy, and get out. If he brought a bunch of brothers with him, the Knights might see it as a threat and war could break out.

They weren’t enemies at this point, and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t want to have their club added to their list of rivals right below the Shadow Warriors. Things were tense enough when it came to that nomad MC.

As he approached the badly lit entrance, the young prospect had his arms crossed and legs spread, attempting a look of strength. Jag could easily take the guy down, but that would be a bad start to his mission. As well as counter-productive.

Jag did a chin lift toward the guy.

“You got business here?” the young recruit asked.

“Yeah, somethin’ inside belongs to me.” Whether that somethin’ realized it or not.

“You or your club?”

He knew it was risky wearing his colors to the bar, but he needed to establish a claim on Ivy. “Both.”

“The redhead?”

Jag’s spine stiffened and his chest tightened. “Yeah,” he grunted.

“Been here last three nights.”

A muscle in his jaw popped. “Figured as much.”

“Gonna get greeted on the inside.”

“Figured that, too.”

The prospect then did his own chin lift as if giving him permission to proceed. Jag returned it. A silent way of saying thanks for the heads up.

He yanked the old, cracked wooden door open and was immediately assaulted by loud music, the stale smell of beer and heavy cigarette smoke, as well as the muted sounds of conversations.

But there was no mistaking it when eyes turned toward him and a majority of the conversation halted.

He steeled himself and stepped deeper into the grungy bar. He ignored the attention and let his gaze bounce around the dimly lit room.

Her back was to him, her unmistakable red hair falling around her bare shoulders. She was wearing a snug black tank top, tight black leather pants and thigh-high black suede boots with probably a three-inch heel. She must have gone shopping with one of Dawg’s girls at Hookers-R-Us.

He was going to strangle her.

It took everything in his power not to rush over there, grab that hair of hers and drag her out of that bar on her ass.

Then teach her a lesson she would never forget.

Instead, he found himself face to face with one big black dude blocking his way. Their gazes met—though, Jag had to raise his a bit—and the guy did a chin lift.

Jag returned it reluctantly.

“Magnum.”

Jag didn’t miss the Sergeant at Arms patch on his leather cut. “Jag.”

The club enforcer’s head turned to where Ivy was talking to three Knights in the back corner. “Can’t help but notice why you’re here. She belong to you?”

She belongs over my knee, that’s where she belongs. “The club.”

The man cocked a thick, dark brow. “Then she lost her way.”

“That ain’t the half of it.”

His beefy hands landed on his hips. “What she doin’ here?”

Jag might be able to take the prospect but there was no way he could take this guy. He needed to keep things cool. “Bein’ a pain in my ass.”

The larger man cracked a smile. “Ain’t they all?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“My brothers have takin’ a likin’ to her.”

Jag sighed and his eyes slid back to Ivy, who still didn’t know he was there yet. “I’m sure.”

“She doin’ it just to piss you off? Or is there another reason she’s been hangin’ here makin’ nice?”

Hopefully they had no idea she was there trying to grab intel on their territory grab.

“Doin’ it to piss me off. Truth is, she’s not just the club’s. She’s mine. She just likes to be difficult.”

“Difficult bitches are usually the best fucks.”

“That she is.”

“Be a shame for none of my brothers to try her out then.”

Fuck. The guy was testing him. Once again, he reminded himself to restrain his temper. “Prospect out front said she’s been here last coupla nights.”

The enforcer grunted, “Yeah.”

With a calmness he didn’t feel, he asked, “None of your boys got a taste?” Strangling wasn’t going to be good enough if this man said they had.

Instead of answering, Magnum asked, “You said she’s yours, why she out lookin’ for strange?”

“Like I said, likes to piss me off. Likes an angry fuck.”

“Hear you there. Sure can’t piss a white brother off more than his woman chasing a black brother. Once she gets a taste, she may never wanna come home.”

This was no time to be comparing dick sizes.

When Jag didn’t answer him, the Knights’ enforcer did a chin lift to one of the guys Ivy was talking to, one who faced their direction.

The guy did an answering chin lift and leaned toward Ivy, saying something close to her ear.

The tension in Jag’s body ratcheted up a hundred notches at that. But then the guy pointed in his direction and he couldn’t miss Ivy’s spine straighten like a steel rod. She slowly turned around.

Even from where he stood and in the bad lighting, he could see she wore heavy makeup. Her eyes were dark, her lips as red as her hair.

She looked like a damn whore.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

Her eyes had widened when she first spotted him, but they narrowed as she stalked toward him in those hooker boots.

It hit Jag then that she wore no fucking bra, and he knew every man was watching the bounce of her tits as she approached him.

“Looks like you’re gonna get an angry fuck tonight, too, brother.” Magnum laughed and whacked him hard enough on the back that the air fled his lungs.

“No shit,” he muttered.

“Think I’m gonna go piss off my old lady so I get some of what you’re gonna be gettin’.”

Jag gave him a nod of thanks as the larger man stepped away when Ivy got to him.

“What are you fucking doing here?” she whispered angrily.

Jag cocked a brow in disbelief. She had some nerve. “You fuckin’ kiddin’ me? You gonna back talk me right now?”

Ivy pressed her lips together as he grabbed her arm and yanked her toward the entrance and out the front door to a bunch of cat-calls and whistles.

He did a cursory nod to the young prospect, who now wore a large, knowing smile, and pulled Ivy through the parking lot as fast as he could walk. She leaned back but couldn’t stop his forward motion.

“Slow down! I can’t keep up like that in these boots.”

“Think I give a shit? Those damn hooker boots are goin’ in the damn garbage.”

“The hell they are. I paid a fortune for them.”

He glared at her over his shoulder, but didn’t stop walking until they got to her car. He spun her around and pushed her against the driver’s door, his knee between her thighs and his hands holding her arms tightly. Just in case she tried to start swinging.

“Have you lost your damn mind?” he yelled in her face, his breath coming hard and fast.

She winced. “No.”

He dropped his head, tried to steady his breathing and counted to ten. Of course, it didn’t help. “You didn’t think you’d be recognized? Fuck. You could’ve blown this whole thing. Even started war between us an’ the Knights.”

“Thought I could slide in there.”

“Slide in...” The pressure in his head became unbearable. “Slide in where? Into one of their beds? How else you think you goin’ to get info? You think they just gonna get a loose tongue around some white bitch hangin’ around their bar? Fuck no. If anything, you’d have to be doin’ one of ‘em to get anythin’ out of ‘em.”

“I’d do what I have to do.”

His head jerked back at her response. She did not just say that. “Stop being a whore, Ivy,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I’m not a whore.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

“You know, I’m sick of the double standard. No one blinks an eye when you fuck Goldie in front of everyone at church.”

Holy mother fuck. “That shit again?”

“And I know you’ve had plenty of women in your room at the clubhouse. It’s okay for you, but not for me.”

“Right,” he grumbled.

Ivy shook her head, looking like a pissed off hellcat. “Right.”

“When were you watchin’ me, Ivy? How do you know who’s up in my room?”

Her expression quickly became a blank mask. “I don’t watch you.”

“Must be. Keepin’ tabs.”

“I’m not.”

“Haven’t been with anybody but you since the night you broke into my room. Didn’t notice that, though, did you?”

Jag heard her suck in a breath. He leaned closer. “You keep tabs on me. I keep tabs on you. Must mean somethin’, baby.”

She shook her head. “How do you keep tabs on me? Do you follow me?”

“How do you think I know when you got dick up in your place?”

“You follow me?” she repeated much slower this time.

“Not always. Sometimes. Should’ve been following you the last few nights, but thought we had a deal. Should’ve known better. Could’ve stopped you before you even set foot in that place.”

He tilted his head and wished he could see her face more clearly. Though the heavy makeup on her face would probably piss him off all over again. She needed to wash that shit off.

Reminded him of one of Dawg’s girls. And that’s not what he wanted in his bed. That’s not who he wanted as his ol’ lady.

“You don’t belong here,” he said softly. “Dirty Angels’ property don’t belong in a Dark Knights’ bar. You know that, Ivy. That’s why one of Dawg’s girls was gonna go in. You played with fire by doin’ this.”

“Nothing happened.” She shrugged. “Made some new friends.”

Jag snorted. “Made some new friends? You gotta death wish? What do you think Diesel or Hawk would do if they found out you were here? Messing with Dark Knights?”

“I wasn’t messing with anyone.”

“It was stupid. Grow up, Ivy before you make a mistake you’ll not only regret but won’t ever recover from. Got me?”

“I’m not DAMC property.”

He shook his head at that same old song and dance. “The fuck you aren’t. Always been. Always will be. Don’t need to tell you that you were born into it. Hell, you got Doc’s blood runnin’ through your veins. You don’t get any more DAMC than that. But even if that wasn’t enough, the second you dragged me upstairs that night and climbed into my bed, you cemented it.”

“A drunken mistake.”

He released her arms and stepped back. “Right.”

“You want to talk about regrets? There you go. Biggest one ever.”

“You’re a fuckin’ fool, Ivy. And a fuckin’ bitch. Go home.” He spun on his heel to leave.

“That’s right, I’m a bitch. And apparently a whore. So move on, Jag.”

His shoulders straighten and stiffened before he said over his shoulder, “Nothin’ to move on from. You just killed whatever was there.”

Ivy winced.

“Go home, Ivy. I’ll follow to make sure you get home safe, then that’s it. Done with your ass.”

“About time,” she muttered, yanking open her driver’s door and sliding in.

Jag watched her for a moment, then shook his head, stalking back to his bike. He didn’t doubt she’d take off without waiting for him.

And he was right.

Fuckin’ Ivy.