Although the weed had afforded Layla a deep slumber that otherwise would have eluded her, it came with the added side-effect of being completely unprepared when morning came.

It wasn’t exactly morning, though. It was more like mid-afternoon, and the only reason Jesse knelt at her bedside and shook her awake was because she’d slept so long they were going to be late for their meeting at La Hacienda.

She opened her bleary eyes, trying to focus on his face. It took a few seconds before she make out his toothy grin.

“Rise’n shine, beauty queen,” he said, brushing a length of her hair behind her ear. “We got work to do, and I figure you wanna pretty yourself up before we get on our bikes and ride.”

“What time is it?” she mumbled, her lips still heavy with sleep. It vaguely occurred to her that she might have morning breath, but if she did, Jesse didn’t seem to care.

“Damn near one-thirty,” he answered. “Thought you were gonna sleep all day.” He glanced at the empty bottle of beer and the burnt-out joint on her makeshift nightstand. “Chronic knocked you out, huh?”

“Must’ve,” she answered, slowly pushing herself up on the cot. It creaked beneath her, and not for the first time, she winced in preparation for it to buckle. But just like every other time, it held fast. She rubbed her eyes.

“How’re the guys?” she asked him. “I mean… how are they holdin’ up?”

Jesse shrugged. “They’re all right. Hollywood’s got ‘em pretty psyched about the hardware. Even Gareth couldn’t find too much fault with the haul he scored. It might get a little dicey today, but I think everyone feels a lot better knowin’ they’ve got some firepower backin’ ‘em up.”

Layla nodded, running her fingers through her hair to pull the wild locks out of her face. “What about Bear?” she asked, sniffling. “Has he come around yet?”

On that topic, Jesse hesitated before answering. The shades he was wearing made it hard to see his eyes, but she could tell he’d averted his gaze when she asked.

Bear was something of a sore subject lately. Layla knew he played the role of “surrogate father figure” to Jesse—probably to the rest of the guys, too, whether they wanted to admit it or not—and having his approval meant an awful lot to the club members.

But ever since Camel’s death, Bear had barely said a word to anybody, disapproving or not. She got the feeling that hurt Jesse a lot worse than if the old man cut loose and tore into him.

Disappointment: it was practically Parenting 101. Layla knew that. She also knew it was effective as hell.

“Well,” Jesse said at length, “he doesn’t seem to hate me so much anymore. At the very least, I don’t think he completely blames me for Camel’s death.” He forced a smile and folded his arms across Layla’s lap, looking up at her over the dark rims of his shades. “There is somethin’ he said, though. Somethin’ I thought I oughta bring up.”

Layla stretched, raising her arms high over her head. “Is this gonna be about me staying behind? Because if it is, I really don’t want to have this conversation again. I’m coming with you guys.”

Jesse wet his lips. “Layla,” he began, and suddenly she knew he was serious, “I said some things before—y’know, about you bein’ a Marauder bitch and a sweetbutt and… and a lotta other stupid things. But you don’t gotta prove yourself to me, or to the rest of the guys here. Not like this. This isn’t your fight.”

“You’re wrong,” Layla told him. The words came out more venomous than she meant them to, but they were no less true. “I was there the night Camel got killed. His murderer looked me in the eye and used me to get him to bite the curb that shattered his teeth and broke his neck. That’s ‘cause everybody thinks a girl in a motorcycle club is some kind of bargaining chip—a commodity. It’s a fucked up sense of chivalry, like to keep your honor, you have to be this alpha male that protects his bitch because she’s too weak to protect herself.”

Jesse opened his mouth as if to argue, but the withering glare Layla shot him shut him right up. He had a little grin working the corners of his lips, but though he looked like he wanted to, he didn’t say anything.

“I’m tired of it,” she continued. “That attitude is what got Camel killed. If you’d treated me like any other… uh… inductee…”

“Prospect,” Jesse interrupted her. She eyed him.

“Thank you. If you’d treated me like any other prospect when you picked me up that first night instead of showing everybody I was your bitch, then maybe I’d have been better prepared to deal with somebody like el Coyote. But instead I had to sit there and beg and plead while that fucker killed him anyway. I wasn’t a Marauder that night, Jesse. I was a liability.”

Jesse’s expression softened. He said, “El Coyote would’ve killed Camel anyway, beauty queen. Clubs treat their women like property all across the damn country. It’s ingrained into our culture. Sure, we could’ve changed the rules for you, but that doesn’t mean el Coyote would’ve played by ‘em.”

“It’s gotta start somewhere,” Layla said, clenching her jaw defiantly. “ ‘Cause until all these clubs stop putting their women on pedestals while treating them like trash at the same time, they’re just gonna be another tool their enemies will use against them. And I don’t think we need any more weak spots. How about you?”

Jesse sighed and shook his head. He stood up, hands on his hips, his jacket falling away to reveal his pecs peeking through the flimsy fabric of his white wife-beater.

“Maybe we don’t,” he admitted, “but you still don’t need to come along on this one, princess. You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Then I’ll die a Marauder,” Layla countered, standing up with him in her cheap t-shirt and pajama pants. “I wanna be there when Nuñez gives the go-ahead for us to put a bullet in el Coyote’s brain. And maybe I won’t be the one to do it, but I wanna look him in his eyes when whoever the lucky son of a bitch who gets to pull that trigger does.”

She met Jesse’s gaze through his shades and held it. “This is my fight just as much as yours. And these tits, as awesome as they are, sure as hell don’t make me any less of a Marauder than you. And if I have to do something incredibly stupid to prove it—which seems to be the point of entry around here—then I guess this is a good place to start.”

Jesse held up his hands in mock surrender and took a step back from Layla. “Bear said I should give you one more chance to back out of it. That’s all.”

“Would you back out of it?” Layla asked him. “If you had the choice?”

Jesse lowered his hands, stuffing them into the pockets of his ratty jeans. He shrugged. “Guess that depends.”

Layla looked at him, at his bronze skin and dark hair and impossibly green eyes. Everything about him was perfect. Everything about him was flawed. “On what?”

“On if I could go back and keep everybody safe,” he answered.

His voice rang hollow, and Layla inwardly cringed. She remembered how he’d sounded back at his apartment as they sorted through Camel’s belongings, remembered the emptiness inside him as he realized his friend was really gone. She remembered the way he’d looked at Maritza when she’d told him about the baby.

She wasn’t going to carry it to term. Layla knew Jesse thought that meant Camel would die another death right there in her womb.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” she told him. “But not because I want to ‘pretty up.’ It’s just that I smell and I don’t want to draw any extra attention to myself when we’re at La Hacienda with Nuñez and his crew.”

Jesse smirked. “Yeah. I guess ‘Stinky’ is pretty shitty, as far as biker names go.”

Layla smiled. She couldn’t help it. All that intensity she’d worked up, and yet he still disarmed her with a flash of his cocky grin.

“ ‘Layla’ will do just fine,” she told him. Then she grabbed the bag of clothes from under her bed and sorted through them in search of panties, a bra, and something practical to wear.

“The yellow shirt,” Jesse said on his way out. “That and those dark jeans with the things on the back pockets. You’ll look good in those.”

Layla shook her head. She waited until he was down the hall before selecting those exact items to wear to the meeting at La Hacienda. She liked that Jesse paid attention to how she looked, and she liked that he had an opinion on what she ought to wear. She liked that he wanted her to look nice for him.

Damned if she’d ever tell him that, though.