“So, I saw you hitting on her.” Teddy wrinkled his nose and drew down his eyebrows.
“And that’s your business because…?” Irritation nipped at Wyatt’s nerves.
“’Cause she’s here in an official capacity. Club business.”
“Really?” Wyatt huffed.
“She’s a damn good interpreter, trusted one too.”
“Good for her.”
“No, good for us.” Teddy’s voice was a low growl.
“She your old lady?”
As if she’d go for this hulk.
“No.” A crease formed on Teddy’s brow. “But I look out for her. Make sure assholes like you don’t think she’s an easy ride. Know what I mean?”
“Listen, man, caring is all well and good, but don’t get in my way.” Wyatt paused. “Got it?”
Teddy said nothing, just glared.
Wyatt pushed past him, knocking his shoulder into his arm as he went. Probably not the wisest move in his life, but this was Wyatt’s home turf, and he had a seat at the top table. He wasn’t going to let some over-protective dude mess up his chances with a hot chick even if he was the size of a grizzly on steroids.
No fucking way.
The select few moved into Hudson’s office. There was only one window. It looked into Nina’s, or it would have if a horizontal blind wasn’t drawn over it. The bottom two slats were bent at an angle. The walls were dark, and on the back one, a large Devil’s Barbarians flag was tacked to the wall. It held the image of a hooded grim reaper with its eye sockets full of red, orange, and yellow flames.
Hudson and Rigor sat at opposite ends with Belle next to her brother. The five Mexicans took the right side of the long wooden table, and the most senior Devils sat on the other. Beer bottles and smokes were stacked on the surface. Taff had a club sandwich on the go, pickles and mayo spilling from it.
Wyatt had hoped to get a spot next to Belle, but he was too slow and ended up beside Hudson. The only way he could see her was if he leaned forward.
He leaned forward.
She held a pen, and although she was chewing gum and staring into space, he got the impression she was listening to the Spanish chatter. Wyatt could barely pick up a few words. They spoke so fast, as if to purposely confuse. But then again, he’d never bothered to learn anything other than English.
She wrote something and nudged her brother.
Rigor lifted his shades to the top of his head and read it. There was no reaction. Instead, he pulled a cigarette from his cut pocket and lit it. Blew out a shoelace-thin stream of smoke.
“So, let’s get to business, guys,” Hudson said, winding his fingers together and slotting them beneath this chin. “I’m sure you’re dying to know how much money you can make out of us, Arturo.”
Arturo chuckled. “I think it the other way around,mi amigo.”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Taff pointed at Arturo. “Friends. We’ll help you out, you help us out.”
Arturo smiled while the biker to his right—goatee, fading black eye, large diamond earring—muttered something.
Again, Belle wrote.
Rigor read it.
“What’s she doing here?” Arturo pointed at Belle. “You gone soft, all this feminist shit finally got to you and you’ve let one with tits become a brother?”
“No.” Rigor laughed. “She’s our secretary, keeps notes.” He tapped his head and nodded at Hudson. “He’s not as young as he used to be, gets confused.”
Hudson’s eyebrows pulled low, four lines plowing over his forehead.