Chapter 6

"God dammit!"I shout, pulling at my hair. Fuck! Iggie wasn't supposed to see this. We didn't plan on seeing Butch out today, but we have been looking for him. He owes the club money and he's been avoiding us. He's been a ghost at all his normal hangout spots, so running across him randomly as we were loading the truck with the donations was a one-off.

"Maybe this is a good thing, Pres. Better he finds out now than later, right? Then he can't claim he didn't sign up for this when things get tough." Viper puts a hand on my shoulder.

"I thought he did know. I've had my cut on every time, mentioned the old ladies and the club. He didn't bat an eye," I hiss through clenched teeth. "I need to fix this."

"Go on. We got this. Butchy here is gonna go get us our money, ain't he?" Viper teases before punching Butch in the gut. "Matter o' fact, we're gonna follow him home to get it."

"I want that money. Don't care if you gotta take shit to sell or pawn. We get paid back today and part ways," I tell my guys. "Butch." I turn my head to look at him. "Our business ends after this. If we see you again, I'm gonna let Viper here take you to his playroom, ya hear me?"

"Yes," he sobs.

Pussy. I don"t waste any more time thinking about him. Iggie is all I can think about; I need to find him and clear the air. He's not exactly innocent in this either, letting me think he was in the know about Hell's Mayhem and acting shocked when he sees us in action. It's a little too late, though. Ignatius is mine and I won't let him walk away.

Sprinting back to Howards' entrance, I rip the door open, burst into the uppity department store, and storm toward the children's department. Eyes wild, I scan the area for my man but come up empty. Where is he? I see an older woman behind the register and make my way toward her.

"Excuse me," I call, since her back is turned to me as she reads a magazine. My Iggie would never read on shift; he"s far too good of an employee for that.

"Can I help you?" she sighs like I've inconvenienced her. When she turns, I almost laugh that I thought she was an older woman. She sure is dressed like one, but now that I've seen her face, she's definitely younger, probably around Iggie's age.

"I'm looking for Iggie. He helped me earlier, and I just wanted to thank him," I lie.

"Ohh. Iggie just clocked out. I think he parked out back today, though. Might wanna hurry. He was headed home to get ready for later," she says huskily while licking her lips.

"And what is later?" I ask, since last I knew, he had plans for me to take him out. What could he possibly have set up in such a short amount of time?

"Heard he had a date tonight. Lucky snot. I've been trying to take him out since he started here, and he won't budge. Guess I'm just too much woman for him," she purrs. "But you, baby? You busy later? I get off at nine."

"Not my type, lady." I curl my lip in her direction. Quickly, I turn and head back out in the cold winter air and jog to the back parking lot. I'm taking my man to dinner, whether he likes it or not.

As soon as I get to the back lot, I see Iggie beside his car, a fancy cup on the roof while he digs in his bag for, I'm assuming, his keys. Not wanting to waste another second and risk him getting in his car and pulling away, I stride over to him briskly.

I rest a hand on his car on either side of him and he whirls around to face me. "Where you going, Iggie? I thought we had plans."

"I saw you beating that man. You're not a good guy, Steel. I was a fool to think some random stranger could be different just because you're sexy and give back to the community." His lips quiver and I don't miss the way his chest is heaving.

"He's not a good man either, babe. Owed the club a lot of money, we were just having a little chat about getting our funds." I step closer to him so he's pressed against his car.

"So call the cops or go to small claims court!" He stomps a foot at me, causing me to chuckle.

"And what would I tell ‘em? Hey, Officer Doe, it's Steel down here at Hell's Mayhem MC. Yeah, the one percenter club. So we have a guy out there named Butch Debaroy who owes us six grand and won't pay up. Oh, it was for the strippers and blow we got him. Can you arrest him?" I snicker even thinking about it; that would go over about as well as a pregnant pole vaulter.

"So you're in one of those MCs like Ryan Hurst played in that biker show? Fuck! I just keep running through red flags."

"Iggie!" I interrupt his tirade. "You knew I was in a club, even knew I was the president. You've seen the cut and the logo. We talked about church, old ladies, and brothers. What did you think all that was for?"

"Christ, I'm so fucking stupid! I knew brothers were your friends, but I thought old ladies were literally old ladies. Like, you know, you had a grandma get the guys' sizes. I saw your vest, but I thought you were in more of a Wild Hogs type club. Not tie me up and kill me type." He's breathing heavily, and I can't help the smirk on my face.

I run a hand down the side of his face and smooth my thumb over his lips. "I won't kill you, but I'd love to tie you up for much sexier and fun things."

He whimpers, and the sound has my cock standing at full attention. He's upright and saluting his general. "I can't."

"You haven't even tried. One date. Let me take you out tonight and show you how much of a gentleman I am. I'm a callous bastard, Ignatius, but I swear I'd never hurt you. I'd kill anyone who did. I want you to be mine. I'm not the type to beg, baby, but I'm beggin' now. Give me tonight to show you what it would be like to be mine."

Iggie's sexy eyes dance back and forth behind his glasses as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. He's warring with himself on whether he should take me up on my offer or not. He looks up at the sky and blows out a breath. "Fine. But only because I think I need to get you out of my system."

"Baby, if only it was that easy. No way could I ever get you out of mine," I growl before kissing his temple. "Put your stuff in the car, lock up and let's go."

He unlocks his car door, drops his bag inside, and moves the cup from the roof to the holder between his seats. "I should probably grab my wallet," he murmurs to himself as he snatches it from the bag and shoves it into his slacks' pocket.

I grab his hand and pull him toward the front of the store where I parked my truck. "Come on, I have a reservation at Century House and don't want to be late."

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