“Hmm.”
I don’t like hmm.
“What?”
She smiles. “You look like a baby whose hair’s coming in slowly.”
I touch my head realizing I’ve not shaved.
Somewhere behind her, a Queen laughs.
I stare at Hot Mama. “That a compliment?”
“Baby, from me, most insults are compliments wearing brass knuckles.”
“I came for Amelia.”
“I know.”
“Then take me to her.”
Hot Mama’s smile vanishes.
The temperature seems to drop.
“No.”
One word.
Flat.
Queen’s law.
My hands tighten on Widowmaker’s bars. “No?”
“You heard me fine.”
“I rode across the country.”
“And I walked across this porch. We both got exercise.”
My jaw locks.
Shortie shifts slightly with the rifle.
The shaved-haired Queen puts a hand near her pistol.
Hot Mama lifts one brow.
She wants to see what I do.
Fine.
Every woman watches.
I don’t move toward Hot Mama. I stand beside my bike and force my hands to stay open at my sides.
“I’m not here to drag her back.”