“She’s trying to help,” he murmurs.
Closing the drawer, I turn to face him but don’t take a step in his direction. Staying in my spot, I bite the corner of my lip as I search his sleepy face. He’s got a little color back in his cheeks and his brows snap together as his eyes move down my body.
“You’re wet,” he points out.
At the same time, I say. “She feels guilty and I don’t want guilty charity.”
Dylan pushes up slightly. “Get one of those shirts and put it on. It’ll cover everything. You can’t sit here in this room soaking wet. You’ll get sick.”
Pressing my lips together, I look behind me at the drawer and think about his demand. I should do it. I can throw my jeans and tank in the dryer and have his shirt to wear to cover me. Then I think about having his clothing touching my body and a shiver slides over my skin.
“Pammy,” he says, his voice rough and far too sexy. Whipping my head around, my eyes instantly connect to his. He’s watching me. His lips twitch up into a cocky smirk. “Get dry, Sunny.”
“Sunny?” I ask.
He chuckles. “First time I saw you, that sunshine hit your blonde hair and it just made it look like you were a giant sunbeam. Never saw anything so pure and beautiful in my life.”
“Pure?” I breathe.
He snorts. “Get something dry on, Pammy.”
I scrunch my nose up at the name Pammy. Ten minutes ago, I would have loved it, now I like Sunny a lot better. Turning my back to him, I open the dresser drawer and reach for one of the soft black T-shirts.
Slipping into the bathroom, I strip out of my wet jean shorts and tank. My bra soaked too. Since I’m not overly large chested, I don’t really need it, especially with as big as this shirt is. Taking off my bra, I slip the T-shirt on over my cold and naked body.
Fiddling with the waistband of my panties, I wonder if I should take them off too, then I shake my head, deciding against it. Leaving the bathroom, I gather my wet clothes and slip out of the room, hurrying toward the laundry room.
Shoving my clothes into the dryer, I set it on high so that it dries superfast and I can get back to taking care of Dylan. I don’t know what I’m going to feed him, but I know he has to be hungry, truth be told, I am too.
I’ve scrounged around the kitchen the past week, careful not to take too much, afraid that I’m doing something I’m not supposed to, but I have to eat something. I can’t remember the last time I had a real meal. Not that I deserve one, I haven’t done anything to earn a place to sleep, let alone food.
JAGUAR
As soon as she leaves, I push myself up to a sitting position. I’m surprised when the door opens a few moments after Pamela has hurried off in nothing but my tee. Inhaling as deep of a breath as I can, I cringe as the pain in my ribs radiates throughout my torso.
Dragon stands in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest, a disapproving look on his face. “Glad you’re breathin’,” he announces.
My gaze finds his and I jerk my chin up as my answer. “You get two more days to heal up. Then your new job starts.”
“New job?” I ask.
His lips curve up into a grin. “Welcome to the Savage Beasts, prospect.”
“Prospect?” I ask.
“Don’t know when or if you’ll ever be a member again, but we’re starting with this. It was decided by the club, together. You’ll be a prospect. No phone, no contact with the outside world at all. You stay within these walls. Any time you leave, it’s with a patched member, not another prospect.”
“What about Pamela?” I ask.
“Jailbait?” He smirks.
“Riot’s still out there somewhere up north, somewhere in Oregon. Wouldn’t take much to find her.”
Dragon sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Fucker got away. Still pisses me off,” he snaps. “He wasn’t in that room and I want to know what the fuck he was doing.”
Most of the Donkey Punchers died the day that the Beasts came barreling through the door. They literally were caught with their fucking pants down.
Riot’s a typical piece of shit though.
He got away, he’d been somewhere else when the Beasts arrived, promising to return in just a moment to start the initiation of Pamela. What he did was sacrifice his men to save himself.
He didn’t give a fuck and I have a feeling he’ll make sure that we pay, not just for killing his men, but also because he wasn’t able to fuck his own daughter the way he wanted, the sick fuck. At least he’ll try to make us pay. If he knows we have Pamela, he’ll try to get her back and he’ll no doubt torture her if he succeeds.
Dragon lifts his hand and scrubs his palm down his face, tugging on the end of his beard. His eyes find mine and he grunts. “She’s safe here, for as long as she needs to be. She ain’t free though. She can’t run around town. She can stay inside of these walls. Nowhere else, not just because of Riot, but also, she can’t be free until we can trust her.”
“Prospects don’t get paid,” I point out.
Ignoring the part about not trusting her, it’s not like I have a good track record in picking trustworthy women to hitch my goddamn star to. I don’t even want to think about Charm, the cunt, but the fact that I let her manipulate me says a hell of a lot.
He snorts. “You’re right, they fucking do not.”
“Pamela needs clothes and girl shit.”
I heard everything that she said. She
