I let go immediately, pull back and sit up. If she’s going to play it like this, I’m fucking done now. I won’t torture myself by trying to convince her to wrap her lips around my cock and suck like her life depends on it.
She scrambles to do the same. I don’t want to stop what we’re doing, nor do I want to let her go, but the mood is kind of broken at the mention of Squat. She shouldn't know that Squat has been following her. I thought he would have been able to handle it when I assigned him the task, but I obviously overestimated his dumb ass. I only put him on her to begin with because I trusted that he wouldn't fuck it up. He won't be able to earn his cut if he can't do something as simple as tailing someone without getting busted, and I’m not thinking too favorably of him since he’s the reason I’m willing myself to go soft. The kind of business we handle and the risks we take require that the men who wear the Forsaken patch be able to blend into a crowd. Holly never should have been able to figure out that she was being followed. Not that it matters now, since Squat is being reassigned. I don't know who I'm going to put on Cheyenne, but it won't be that fuck up. That's a risk I won't be taking with my kid.
"You thought I didn't know?" she asks. Of course I thought she didn't know. I would've thought that an eager asshole like Squat wanted his top rocker enough to do the job right.
"Had to make sure you were keeping your mouth shut," I say. She doesn't say anything for a few minutes. She’s all nervous glances and heavy sighs with her lips smashing together and then pushing out. It almost looks like she's making one of those stupid fish faces that Cheyenne likes to do when she's getting her photo taken. But it's more than that—she's not trying to look cute or sexy. She's working through something silently, and I think I spent enough time around her by now to know that she won't speak until she's ready.
"I told you that I won't say anything. You won't take me at my word, so if I have to take the money to get you to believe that I'm not going to do anything to get you or your club into trouble, then I will." And that's exactly the problem. We deal with a lot of shady as fuck people in our line of business. I learned two things in my last twenty years with his cut on my shoulders: number one, everybody has a price; and number two, that there is no such thing as getting something for nothing. And the fact that she won't take my money makes me think she's going to take my freedom. Only, she doesn't seem to be malicious or deceitful. If I didn't know any better, I would think that she really just wanted to be left alone. Which is a damn shame because the more time I spend around her, the more aware I am of her presence.
"Stay here," I say. She is an adult and responsible for own fate, but I can't help the bad feeling that I get from the idea of letting her walk. She hasn't told me what exactly went down between her and Mancuso's guy, but from the way she avoids the topic altogether, I'm starting to worry that it was more than she's letting on. And if he has taken an interest in her, then she’s screwed.
"No," she says. She gives me a small shake of her head, and then her shoulders rise in the air, stay for a beat, and fall. "I was an idiot for thinking that it could be a good idea to let Cheyenne think that were sleeping together. Now my boss is asking questions and even Mindy thinks I'm hiding something from her. If I stay here, it's only going to make everything worse."
"You won't stay here because people are asking questions, so you would rather be murdered to avoid a few uncomfortable conversations?" I don't even know what the fuck to say about this shit anymore. I've tried my best to get it through her thick skull that getting dead is a very real possibility here. She shifts in place and looks down at her lap. Her fingers work at the hem of her blouse.
"The more time I spend with you, the more that guy is going to think I matter. It's better for you and Cheyenne that I stay away. If he thinks we know each other then he can use me as leverage. You have enough to worry about with Cheyenne and your club. You don't need to worry about me as well."
“Stay,” I say again, quieter this time.
“I don’t fit in here.”
“Yes, you do,” I whisper.
“But, I don’t.”
“You’re insane, and ballsy, and you handle your shit. You fit in here alright.”
I sound like a pussy.
Her silence is unnerving. She doesn’t react to my fucked-up attempts at getting her to stay for a long moment, then she says, “But I don’t want to be those things.”
I don't give her anything for a good minute or so. I've nothing to give. She doesn’t want this and I won’t force it. On one hand, she makes sense. Her staying here could make it look like she means something to me, which she doesn't. Well, more than I want her to, anyway. Still, that doesn't address the fact that she's already had words with this guy and apparently the asshole pulled a gun on her. But she's made her choice, and I'm not the kind of man who begs.
I can walk away from this.