Page 63 of Ruger's Rage
Her eyes lock on me immediately, "So you're the one," she says, her voice carrying across the room. "Ruger's new toy."
The conversations around us falter.
I feel heat rising to my cheeks, but force myself to hold her gaze. "I'm Tildie."
"Bailey." She smirks, looking me up and down. "Didn't realize he was into the curvy type these days."
I've faced mean girls before.
Marco's world was full of women who viewed other females as competition rather than allies.
I know better than to show weakness.
"Apparently, he is." I take a deliberate sip of coffee. "Nice to meet you, Bailey."
She slides into the seat next to Bloodhound, ignoring his obvious displeasure. "You know you're just temporary, right? Ruger doesn't do relationships. When he gets bored, he'll come back to what he knows."
"Bailey," Bloodhound warns, his voice dropping to something cold. "That's enough."
She ignores him, leaning toward me. "You're replaceable, honey. You're not his ol’ lady, just his current entertainment."
Something cold settles in my stomach, but I refuse to let it show. "Thanks for the insight. I'll keep that in mind."
"Bailey." Bloodhound's tone leaves no room for argument. "You're the most replaceable thing here. Don't forget it."
Her face flushes with anger. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." His eyes are flat, dispassionate. "There are a dozen women willing to take your place. There's only one of her."
Bailey stands abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. "Fuck you, Bloodhound."
"Not anymore," he replies calmly. "Wasn't memorable enough the first time."
Several brothers chuckle, and Bailey storms out, the door slamming behind her.
I stare at my plate, unsure how to respond to the exchange. "Thank you, I think."
"Don't mention it." Bloodhound returns to his breakfast. "She's just pissed because Ruger never gave her the time of day. Not really."
"Does this happen a lot? Women fighting over... territory?"
His lips quirk in what might be amusement. "Club life. Women come and go. Only a few become ol’ ladies. Rest are just passing through, hoping to catch a patch. Bailey’s a clubwhore, along with Venus and Shayla, but those two aren’t a problem. Bailey, on the other hand, she’s got a hell of a big mouth unless she’s got something shoved in it."
"I'm not trying to catch a patch from him," I feel compelled to clarify.
I don’t even really know what catching a patch even means.
"I know." He regards me with those watchful eyes. "That's probably why Ruger's different with you. You want the man, not the patch, not the power that comes along with being his ol’ lady… whenever that day comes."
Before I can process that statement, the door swings open and Ruger strides in.
His eyes find me immediately, relief visibly washing over his features.
"Morning," he says, making his way to our table. His hand brushes my shoulder casually. "Sleep okay?"
"Fine." I'm hyper-aware of the eyes tracking this interaction. "Your bed's comfortable."
A small smile crosses his face before he turns to Bloodhound. "Everything quiet?"
