Gen awakened the next morning and went straight to the bathroom, embarrassed at what they’d done the night before.
And yet, deliciously sore.
Duke was sitting on the edge of the bed when she returned, and she slowed as she saw the look in his eyes.
“New game this morning, Babe.” He pulled her to him, tipped her sideways and caught her as if she were an infant, then situated her on the bed, facing up.
“Hold onto the bars of the headboard.”
She lifted her arms, grasped the cool iron bars, her gaze locked with his. There was no wolf this morning, it was all Duke.
“Hold on the entire time and you’ll get unlimited orgasms until we leave the room for breakfast. Let go and you’ll have to do something to earn every orgasm I give you.”
Duke started at her breasts, his mouth worked the sides, and finally landed on her nipples. She yelped as he pulled one into his mouth, the suction strong enough she wondered if it were possible to get a hickey on your nipple.
When he finally entered her, she was holding onto the bars for dear life, and as she came for the fourth or fifth time, she begged, “Please let me hold you?”
“Mmmm. Not yet, Beautiful. Let me love you.” His finger swiped over her nipple, and she braced her feet on the bed and lifted her hips to meet him, since she couldn’t reciprocate any other way.
“That’s it, Gen. Fuck me back, let me see how bad you want it, how bad you want me.”
He made her orgasm three more times before he told her she could wrap her arms around him, and when she came the next time he pounded her even harder through the orgasm, and then growled and grunted as he finally let loose and came, looking into her eyes as he did.
He tucked her into his side, kissed her forehead and the top of her head as he said, “Love you so much, Gen. My wolf has claimed you, Babe. He sees you as my Duchess, too.”
* * * *
An hour later, Gen found herself in the kitchen with the other women. As they made bacon and eggs, Gen went to the sink and washed as the women finished with an item.
Sheila entered the kitchen, saw her, and joined her, reaching for a towel and offering to dry. Gen knew the kitchen likely wasn’t usually completely silent as the women worked, but didn’t know what to do or say.
Finally, Sheila said, “All right ladies, let’s get it out in the open. Gen’s new and she likely has no clue how you all feel.”
No one said anything, so Gen said, “How do ya’ll feel? Have I done something to make you upset with me?”
Sheila sighed and explained, “Before yesterday, only the two women who were present when you throat punched Duke knew you had weapons privileges, but there were too many here last night to keep it quiet, so now everyone knows.”
“What does that mean?” Gen asked.
“Don’t know,” one of the many skinny blonde bitches said. “No woman’s ever been given privilege before, other than the occasional woman police officer here on official business, and that ain’t privilege so much as a warrant they cain’t argue with.”
Another woman gave a horrid, bitter, laugh. “One of us throat punched our old man, we’d be in a world a hurt. You do it and they vote to allow you a gun on RTMC grounds. What the fuck?”
Gen turned to her, kept her voice light. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Veronica, but I ain’t your sweetheart.”
“Well, Veronica, it’s my understanding the vote went my way the second time because I earned their respect. I could’ve hurt Duke, bad, but they recognized I didn’t. I measured my response to put him down long enough to get away without seriously injuring him. That, along with the fact I’m well trained and a darned good shot, showed them I’m not a kindergartner masquerading as a grown woman, and can be trusted with a weapon. Not to use against them, but to have their backs if needed. And last night? No one had to come to my rescue. I took care of every problem — legal, physical, and emotional — without a single club member having to lift a finger to do anything more than make sure it was recorded. Perhaps you might want to do something that earns respect, if you want it, instead of just sniveling and wishing you had it.”
“It true you didn’t know how to give a blow job?”
“Yeah, and my guess is he enjoyed the one he had to teach me to give him a whole helluva lot more than any of the hundreds you’ve probably given him.”
Gen was operating on a guess, but the look in Veronica’s eyes told her she’d hit bullseye.
Veronica’s hand flew out to slap her, but Gen caught her wrist. The other woman was much stronger than Gen had prepared for, though, so she had to go to her knees to avoid the slap even with her hand around the other woman’s wrist. Someone else came forward, grabbed Veronica around the waist, and dragged her back as Duke came storming into the kitchen.
“You raised a hand towards my woman, Vee?”
“She disrespected me, Duke.” Gen noted Veronica looked at Duke’s feet when she talked, and now that she knew what to look for, was certain Veronica must be a werewolf, too.
“You disrespected her first and you know it. Leave the grounds. Brain will let you know if the club votes that you can come back, and how long it’ll be, if you’re allowed.”
“My purse is in the back,” she sounded like she was about to burst into tears.
“Duke,” Gen said. “It sounds like she’s sorry, maybe she should get another —”
“No, Gen,” Duke interrupted. “This is club business. Remember what I said about club business and dangerous situations?”
“Yeah.” She sighed, started to argue, but closed her mouth and went back to washing the dishes someone had used to make the homemade biscuits. Gen paid someone to do this at her house and wasn’t a fan of doing it here.
When Veronica was gone and Duke was back in the clubhouse, one of the other skinny blondes said, “You ain’t just an old lady. You’re more. Not just the gun, but takin’ Duke down? Handlin’ Veronica? You’re right, they have respect for you, and they don’t for us.”
Gen looked at Sheila. Duke had used the term once, too, but they’d gone onto another topic before she’d asked about it. “Old lady? I’m only twenty-nine, not even close to old yet.”
Sheila smiled. “No, it’s a title, a position.”
The skinny blonde looked sad. “Position, yeah. Means you matter. Ain’t just a piece a meat no more.”
Gen turned to the way too thin girl and said, “No woman should ever let themselves be turned into a piece of meat. We all matter. We all have worth, and if we don’t see the value in ourselves, no one else will, either.”
“Easy for you to say, with all your money and everything handed to you. Not everyone drives fancy cars and wears fancy clothes, gets an education that lets them buy whatever they want.”
Gen took a breath and tried to keep her voice kind and gentle. “I have three sisters and one brother. I never met my father. My grandmother lived with us, to help my mom out. We lived in a tiny three bedroom apartment. My mom and grandmother shared a room, my room had two sets of bunk beds so there was room for all four girls to sleep, and my jerk of a brother had a room all to himself. I remember my mother buying me new clothes exactly four times my entire life, everything else was a hand-me-down from my sisters. From the time I can remember, the school bus dropped me off at my mom’s restaurant after school, and I did my homework, got something to eat, and then washed and dried silverware and rolled it into napkins until it was time for the kids to go home and go to bed. As I got older, I had better jobs — cook for a while, and eventually waitress, but my mom had to wait to put me out in the public so she wouldn’t get in trouble with the child labor people.”
Sheila opened her mouth to speak, but Gen kept going before she had a chance. “I went to a public school, and there was no money for me to go to college. I waitressed to put myself through the Realtor courses, and I took some legal and accounting classes at Chatt State, though not enough for any kind of degree. I also took some photography classes so I could learn to take the best pictures of the land and houses possible, and some negotiating and mediation classes. I spent several years learning what I needed to know to make the jump from residential to commercial, so I’d be ready to take on the big boys when I did. No one handed me anything. I worked my ass off to get where I am.”
Diana seemed to be the woman in charge of the kitchen, and at this she declared, “Breakfast is ready. Enough drama for one morning. Let’s eat!”
* * * *
Two hours later Gen was stretched out in a very comfortable — if incredibly ugly — recliner, with a laptop on her thighs, engrossed in research. She followed the corporations back a ways, realized she’d taken it as far as she could, and called Chance, her guy at Drake. Without thinking about her audience, she told him she’d followed the corporations through a well-constructed labyrinth and come up against a brick wall in Switzerland. “Can I send you what I’ve found, see if you can figure out who actually owns this land? I really need to know who I’m negotiating with before I walk into the room, and I’m willing to pay extra if you can do it now? Pretty please?”
She hit send on her email, knowing he’d be looking for it before he even told her he would. “Yeah, I got it,” he said. “I’ll let you know when I have something.”
“Well,” Gonzo said as she disconnected, “why didn’t I ever think of that when dealing with a private detective?”
Gen looked up and asked, “What?”
Bash answered for him. “Pretty please? Does that really work for you?”
Rolling her eyes, she grinned and told them, “Just offering extra money can come off high-handed. It’s about respect, right? I’m asking nicely, not ordering him to. If he can run it down in fifteen or twenty minutes he’ll charge me one-fifty, and I’ll pay him two-hundred or maybe even two-fifty. But we all know it isn’t just about the money. Everyone responds better to being asked than to being ordered around.”
“They’re just picking on you, Beautiful. Ignore them.” Duke was looking through news articles on his tablet and seemed to be pretty engrossed as well.
She started organizing her notes for the meeting, and jumped a little when her phone rang. She’d asked her assistant to hold all calls unless something important came up, so she answered in her most professional voice possible.
“I just sent you an encrypted file,” Chance said, his voice serious. She noted almost every man in the room looked up, and realized they could hear Chance through the phone. She looked away, determined to ignore them.
“When you saw me a few weeks ago you made a comment on my outfit, and I made fun of a word you used. That word is the password to decrypt it. This is serious shit, Gen. I’ve already called Tyler and texted Nathan, they’re on the way to my office for a briefing. Not likely dangerous, but it’s a political minefield, and one our people may need to address.”
Gen punched in carnivalesque and hoped they both spelled it the same way, and was relieved when the file opened, but then her stomach flip-flopped as she realized the mayor’s wife owned the property the city was trying to buy from a corporation not willing to sell.
She sized the situation up, tapping her nails on the edge of the laptop a half-dozen times before saying, “Okay, Tyler’ll want to know my game plan. Before the meeting starts, I’ll ask their rep how the mayor and his wife are doing, and casually inquire as to how long they’ve been back from Switzerland. I’m guessing he’ll be a lot easier to negotiate with at that point, but if not then I’ll walk out of the meeting without a deal, and then probably jump into the center of the landmine. No game plan for Plan B yet, but I’m sure something will come to me.”
Duke walked to her as she ended the call, and she minimized her window as he looked at the screen. He looked to her and she said, “Remember how I’ve shut up and backed down a couple of times when you told me it was club business?” He nodded and she continued. “Well, this is my business, and I know how to handle it. There’s no physical danger, just professional, and I’m well equipped to handle it.”
“The mayor owns the property?”
She shook her head.
“You know,” he reminded her, “if it’s been on that laptop, Brain can pull it back up.”
Gen closed the program she’d been using to remotely access her office computer, pulled the USB out, and motioned for Duke to take the laptop. “Fine, then I won’t need to tell you anything.” She put the jump drive in her jeans pocket, physically handed him the laptop this time, and said, “This calls for an entirely different outfit. I need to go home and start getting ready.”
In truth, she wanted to talk to Tyler away from RTMC ears. He tended to be a little overprotective of everyone in Frisco’s group of friends, and she needed to be sure Tyler didn’t insert himself into the situation.
“Yeah. I think I’ll follow you home,” Duke drawled, his gaze sharp. “See what kind of outfit this type of situation calls for.”
Gen rolled her eyes. “Fine. That lets me wear the boots home, and you can bring them back with you, so they’ll be here if we want to ride.”
She talked to Tyler on the drive home, with Duke on his motorcycle behind her. He’d emailed an app to her, told her to install it, and then use it to call him, insuring it would encrypt their conversation so no one could overhear.
When she had him on the phone via the app, his first words were, “I don’t know that tipping your hand is the way to go.”
She wasn’t entirely certain he was wrong, so she asked, “I’m assuming you have a better idea?”
“How about calling the mayor’s office now, with a few hours to go before the meeting, and telling him there’s a potential problem with the land he’s been looking at, and suggesting another property that may work better for the city’s needs.”
“I’m not aware of any problems.”
“Easy to fix. I’ll get one of the archeologists working on the Moccasin Bend site to draft something and email it to you, so you’ll have it before you’re home.”
Gen laughed. “You’re brilliant. The whole area is riddled with Native American stuff. The city attorneys will run screaming to another plot of land if anyone even mentions an artifact within a quarter mile. Okay, work it up. I actually have another spot already picked, and I’ll get double commission if I sell it, so this works perfectly.”
“Yes, and gets you out of the quagmire without making a political enemy.”
“Thanks, Tyler. I’ll give you fifteen percent of my commission on the sale. You’ve more than earned it.”
“That’s very generous, and I’ll accept, but only because I need to grease a few palms.”
“Right, and I’m sure I don’t need to say it but I will anyway. No money trail going from me to the archeologist.”
“Of course.”