Digging into my jeans pocket, I pull out my phone. Her number’s in my log of missed calls, so I tap it and put the phone to my ear.
“This is Sabrina,” Silas’s old lady answers after barely half a ring. Her intense focus practically strangles me over the phone.
“Hey, it’s Tate. You’ve got something for me?”
“Yes. Give me a second.”
That’s one thing I appreciate about the nature of our interaction. Neither of us has a problem with cutting through the bullshit of frivolous small talk and getting to the point. I hear her flipping through pages on the other line, so I lean against the wall to wait. I have just enough time to smack the round, sweet backside of one of the redhead sack demon as she moseys on by.
“That’s a fine piece of ass right there, little lady.”
“What?” Sabrina asks.
Right. Boss lady is still on the line.
“Nothing. Just appreciating the…ambiance over here at the clubhouse.”
“Hmmm. Okay…”
“By the way, how’s the poor little kid doing?” I ask about her friend, Jordan Bain. He’s not poor and not a kid, but that’s the way we all refer to the only son of Nevada State Governor Harvey Bain, one of the wealthiest legitimate billionaires west of Chicago. Ever since Silas rescued Jordan from the Los Diablos compound during our last all-out brawl, the kid has shown his gratitude time and time again by referring us to a fuck ton of new uber-rich clients needing protection services.
“He’s doing fine. And you can ask him yourself in a few weeks when you go to his place for card night.”
“Right.”
“Okay here’s the file. I’m assigning you to Molly Davenport for the next few weeks, maybe more.”
“What? Nice.” I smile. A mandate to be around Molly. My Molly, the sex kitten with a hankering for me. The woman’s been up for anything and everything kinky that I’ve ever thrown her way in the bedroom. And against the wall. And on the floor. And right over there on the counter of the clubhouse bar. Blindfolds, paddles, handcuffs, whips, chains. You name it, she’s been game for playing with me. This is going to be one sweet job assignment.
“You two know each other a little bit, right?”
“Yeah.” Real well.
“Good. Silas suggested that you’d be best for this job. Her intake form points to a medium risk case of stalking, but as always, I wouldn’t rely solely on my notes. Your first meeting should be more of a friendly house call to dig deeper. You know the drill.”
I’m digging deeper, all right. “Yes. You can count on me, Captain,” I say with a low chuckle. “Thank your boy-toy for me, will you, Sabrina?”
“How about I pretend you didn’t just call your President a boy-toy, and we’ll call it even?”
“Isn’t that what he is now?” I ask, but I know her well enough. I don’t wait for her to answer. “Sure, sounds good. I’ll keep you in the loop about Miss Davenport.”
“Excellent. You do that,” Sabrina says and quickly hangs up. She probably has a bunch of other work to do today. For the moment, her regular job is at a successful law firm, and on top of that, she handles client intake for our MC’s newly launched security firm. It’s one hell of a job, but she does it with poise.
With my assignment taken care of, I take a second to survey the prime sack demons in the clubhouse, all ready and willing to be licked, sucked, and fucked by any patch-wearing member, especially executive members like me. They’re usually a nice treat after a long day, but not today. Come to think about it, not for a while. Slapping asses is one thing, but ever since I started seeing Molly, I’ve had no desire to be with any other woman. Sure, we’re casual, but there’s something else going on between us that neither of us has taken time to acknowledge. In any case, with this new assignment, I’m sure to have plenty of good times with Molly Davenport. Whoever said it’s a bad idea to mix business with pleasure has no idea what they’re talking about. It’s like killing two birds with one stone. Except there’s no killing, and no stones or birds are harmed in the process.