Page 9

“ W ell, that could have gone better,” Jack grunts from her position holding up the doorframe to my room.

I huff out a laugh. “You think?” I throw a few more things into my bag before I go back to my closet.

We’re back at our place. Had to. Boss says you’re going on a mission, you pack. I’ve never known Charles to sit on something for longer than an hour before she expects action to take place.

I grab a few more choice pieces that are submissive but can easily hold a dagger or two before coming back into the bedroom to find Jack has already flopped on my bed.

It would be useless to tell her she’s ruining my made bed. She’s never cared about that, but it’s something I always do. Even before I could make myself something to eat, I had to make my bed. Some say it’s a sign of leadership and sets you up in life for success. I just knew that if I didn’t make it, life would be horrible. Well, as horrible as an unmade bed on the brain all day long can be.

“What the big deal? You’ve done the submissive act before. Sure, usually with one of our own being your Domme, but I’ve never seen you turn down a role before.”

Of course she wouldn’t see it as a big deal. Jack has always jumped when someone asked her to. Didn’t matter if it was to jump off a bridge or not—she’d do it to prove a point.

And I usually have no problem when given an order. Maybe if it was someone else, anyone else, I might not have protested. But it’s not, and I did.

“And I’m not turning one down now. I just don’t see the need for me to go.” I didn’t say no to it. I just did the next best thing to that. I questioned the boss. Unlike the Hounds, C8 doesn’t give their people a say in what jobs to do. That’s because the job is so prepped that it makes sense for whoever is picked. Charles makes sure that each girl chosen feels comfortable in the job and that it’s no more than she can take on.

Have I done the submissive role before? Yeah. Is it something that comes easily to me and I feel comfortable doing? Again, yeah. I knew early in life that I liked to please people, but it was never something I could relax into with my past. Charles and the company helped me find a safe place to experience this part of myself. She also helped me realize that being submissive didn’t mean I was weak. And that just because I liked submission in certain parts of my life didn’t mean I was only that.

I usually relax in roles like this, but relaxed is the last thing I felt once Charles named me as the lead on this.

“You mean with him.”

Ding, ding, ding. Jack hit the nail on the head.

“Yes.” There’s no reason to deny it. Girl’s my sister. Knows me better than I know myself, just like I know her better than herself.

I halt my packing and look at her. She has her chin propped on her fist on my bed. She looks relaxed, as if we’re just talking about boys and nothing more. But there’s so much more than that.

With a quick smack to the bed, she jackknifes off it. “It’s not a problem. You got this. You’re all professional and shit.”

“You’re not helping.” I glare at her retreating back as I grab another thing to fold before I put it in my bag.

“Look.” The word has me turning to see that she stopped in the doorway. “Just do the simple thing.”

“And that is?”

She shrugs as if it’s obvious. “Forget that you know about him and get the job done.” She turns and heads to her room, no doubt to pack her own bag.

While my sister and I don’t do many missions without the other, we sometimes have to be in two places at once. I might be going in, but Jack will be part of the team to man the surveillance and close enough to pull us out if things go south. We don’t know the location yet, but Charles told us to pack warm. Not sure how that works with going into a sex club as a submissive. Usually less is required than more.

I go back to packing, snatching the Glock from under the pillow and putting it in my hip holster before grabbing the nighties in the nightstand beside the bed.

Right. Just forget it. Forget everything I know of the man. Of what I learned about the man. Just pretend I have no knowledge that he’s fiercely protective of his own and is a softy with animals. That he keeps eyes on his brothers’ kids to keep them safe even if he pretends he’s not looking out for them the entire time they’re in the club.

Or the feel of his lips.

Jesus. That might have been the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. Why did I have to kiss him?

Because he’s cute, and you haven’t gotten laid since they determined the earth is round.

“Yo, let’s go.”

Of course, it took her five seconds to pack. Girl literally throws all her clothes in a duffel bag and decides it’s good. I’ve even seen her use her arm to swipe all her bathroom products into a bag at once, not caring if anything was still open or not. Jack doesn’t give a shit about what she looks like or what others think. She only puts time into a look when she has to make sure no one sees beyond what she wants to show them. Like when she was Penny. Then the girl dials it in to make sure not a single hair is out of place. But that’s undercover Jack. Now I’m just dealing with regular Jack and all the joys of her natural self.

I put a few more things in my bag, then head out to the truck. Did I forget to mention that the club impounded our ride? They might agree to work with us, but I don’t see us getting that back. Even got ourselves an escort.

Kooper’s driving, and he looks pissed. So it must be Tuesday—or any other day of the week, because the guy always looks pissed when I see him.

The drive back is quiet. Not that Jack doesn’t mess with the radio for the first ten minutes before Kooper just turns it off. I kick her hard to keep her from turning it back on. We have enough troubles as it is. The Hounds billing us for when Kooper runs the truck off the road, choosing to kill us rather than deal with us, is not something I want to deal with.

The club’s parking lot is busy when we pull in, but I notice one of our own SUVs and two of the bikes missing, along with a few of the other girls. Charles must have decided the show of force she arrived in was enough of a point to make. We rarely make such a fuss, rarely show our hand in full.

I’m glad my company saw the Hounds for what I’ve been trying to detail in my weekly reports to them. They can be trusted. And if we play our cards right, they can even be a partner in some things we have going on. Just have to get this little debt paid off, and then any calls to arms after that is fair game.

“You ready?” Casper drops his bag in the back and looks at Kooper, who tosses the keys to him as soon as he exits the vehicle.

“Now?” Fuck. I’d really hoped I would have a chance to talk to Charles one last time.

Charles wasn’t a fan of Casper changing it up and putting himself in play, saying he wouldn’t have the club deal with shit he could do himself, but after he shared that he had experience in the community, the Crazy Eights’ hands were tied. Whether the Hounds believe it or not, this debt is more of a blessing for us than anything.

Our entire operation is based on being in the shadows, blending in. We’re the Charlie’s Angels that the CIA wish they had. We have no morals, not really, except to each other. We could go in, grab Candy, and blow the place up, but it would compromise more missions in play. And like the Hounds, C8 has to look at all parties involved. We don’t let one burn if we can help it, but would we sacrifice it for another? Maybe.

Before we left the clubhouse to pack, I pulled Charles in and asked if I was really the best choice. The look she gave me made me glad I didn’t have a mother growing up. I wouldn’t have been able to handle all the disappointed looks she gave me if they were anything like the one I got from Charles. It had me switching directions immediately and going home to pack.

And now we’re here. Seconds away from me leaving. With Casper. Is no one else seeing me freak out right now? ’Cause I feel like there’s a ghost in my soul, just screaming like a banshee, telling me to run and run far. That if I get in this truck again, leave with Casper, I won’t come back the same person.

If I come back at all.

He has a look in his eyes, murder and retribution. If that’s his Dom face, I don’t want to see it. It does nothing to calm me and set me at ease like a Dom should.

Then why are you shivering in anticipation and your panties are wet?

Shut up. Whoever is talking in my head, just shut up. I don’t need you right now to add to my anxiety.

I shake my head so quick that I cause a crick. I don’t care if people think I’m crazy. Maybe I am. I swear I just heard a part of me laugh when I told it to stop talking so loud for me to hear it.

I’m going crazy. Certifiably crazy.

Jack pulls me in for a hug before I can do it myself. She isn’t much for touching others, but being her sister, I get away with more things. And the girl craves a physical connection, even if she pretends she doesn’t. When things get bad, she ends up snuggled next to me in bed.

The world moves around us while we embrace, and it’s not a simple hug like we generally share before a mission. This one is saying goodbye. Neither of us believes in fairy tales. We saw the way the world worked at a very young age. We know the odds of our death are greater just because we’re in C8. Amplify that by a hundred and you get the risk of this mission.

Especially when your partner is mad as hell at you and doesn’t need to keep you alive out of necessity. The job only entails finding Candy. Nothing was exchanged about keeping me or her alive.

“Frank?”

Jack and I both turn at the name, only to watch Frank, a man we’ve only seen with Charles, get mauled in a hug of his own by Lady, Bulldog’s old lady.

“I didn’t think I would ever see you again.” She’s holding on tight. Although her words are muffled, I can still hear them. So can both groups. Nothing makes the world stand still like watching the wife of a Hound embrace a C8 member like a lost lover.

Frank releases her and tilts her head up to him. His smile is rare. I’m thrown that he gives one freely to her. “Hey, little sister. No need to cry.”

She laughs before swiping her eyes and nodding. “You know I was never good at doing what I was told.”

“Better than me.” His smirk drops as Bulldog approaches and pulls his woman under his arm.

“This the same Frank you grew up in foster care with?” Bulldog asks, a hint of anger in his tone.

Lady nods.

Well, maybe this won’t be so bad after all. See? C8 is good. We bring families together and shit like that.

“The same one who left you to deal with that shit so he could be free?”

Ah crap. The air around this place just went from a Category One warning to Category Four real quick.

“Technically speaking, the system only allows care for those up to a certain age. Based on his statue and build, I would venture to guess he’s at least four to six years older than Lady. I don’t think he was given a choice when he left. If he took her with him, that would have been kidnapping.”

“Damn, I always did like her,” Jack says as she smiles wide like a crazy person at Cheyanne, who just spoke. Girl was always extra, so when the club gave her the name Fairy, it made sense in my book.

“She sure has a way of breaking the tension,” I mutter. Her words seem to have destroyed the tension, as the focus goes away from Lady and her brother, or foster brother. I personally think a foster brother or sister is stronger than a regular sibling. On average, a foster kid goes through more shit than most, and sharing those types of hellish moments brings you that much closer.

“Fairy,” Casper calls out to Cheyanne, and they walk off to the side, out of earshot.

“What’s that about?” Jack leans in to me, and I shrug. Fairy isn’t around unless Mad Max is, or that’s what Rue told me. Haven’t seen the former president’s personal enforcer in a while. Maybe he’s taking the death of his boss harder than the rest. Mad Max was meant to protect the big guy. Instead, he wasn’t there at all.

I turn away from them—can’t read lips if I can’t see them. Looking back at the rest of the group, I see Bulldog has pulled Lady away from Frank, but they keep staring at each other. Bulldog is the jealous type, and I doubt this is going to end in anything less than friendly fire. I’m almost upset that I’ll miss this coming to a head. It’ll be a helluva show.

“Let’s go,” Casper shouts, and I nod once more at my sister before getting in the truck.

I give it a full two minutes before my curiosity gets the better of me. “Where’s Mad Max?”

He grips the steering wheel so tight I swear I hear it creak. “None of your damn business,” he spits out.

Oh yeah, this is going to be a fun trip.