Heart-On: Turf Wars #2 by Bella Jewel (top 20 books to read TXT) 📗

me with concerned eyes, and we both rush to the back rooms where all the commotion is coming from.

What we see when we get in there is certainly not what we expected.

The girl they dragged from the car is now tied to a chair, surrounded by big, angry bikers. She’s looking up at them, a smirk on her face, blood trickling from her lip. She looks like she’s been dragged across the dirt a few times, or perhaps she’s lived rough the last few weeks. She looks tired, even behind her smirking face. She looks like she’s been through a lot.

“I swear,” I say, without thought. “If one of you brutes hit her and made her bleed, I’m going to go all Jackie Chan on your asses.”

Everyone turns, and Eve’s eyes get even wider when she looks at me with horror.

She can look as horrified as she likes. If one of them hit her, I’m going to fly kick every single one of them until they stop. They have no right to lay their hands on a woman, I don’t care what she’s done. We don’t live in the past anymore, we live in an age where you do not behave like that. I won’t stand for it, I don’t care how they take it.

It’s Riggs who speaks. “What the fuck are you two doin’ in here?”

“Ah,” Eve raises a finger. “You were dragging a girl in by her arm. I wasn’t cool with it.”

He narrows his eyes. “Club business, babe. You need to leave.”

She crosses her arms and throws her hip out to the side, challenging him with her sassy nature. “What club business involves hurting a girl?”

Riggs glares at Eve. She holds that glare.

That’s my girl.

I turn my attention to the girl.

Definitely around the same age as us. Up close, her dark hair is laced with purple streaks, and she has the prettiest face I’ve seen in quite some time. She looks like a doll, only a mean one. She’s got these stunning blue eyes, but they’re not light blue. They’re a deep set dark blue, but yet equally as spectacular. Her hair is long and thick, her lips are full, and she’s got the most perfect white skin. Untouched, it would seem.

She’s only tiny, very petite. She’s wearing black jeans, a pair of scuffed-up converse, a tank top that shows she’s more than equipped in the breast area, and a denim jacket. Retro as fuck. I like it. She’s adorable in a badass way. Judging by the smirk on her face and the way she’s looking at everything unfold, she’s been around the block a few times.

She’s not scared of anything happening right now.

Not even a little bit.

I think I might want to be here when I grow up.

“Did one of you hit her?” I ask Adan when he approaches, a pissed look on his face.

They still haven’t answered my question.

Adan looks horrified that I’d even question it. “No, we did not fuckin’ hit her. She hit her face on the car door tryin’ to get away.”

“Well good, I wasn’t sure how I was going to take you all down, but believe me, I was.”

He smirks. “No doubt. You need to leave. This is club business.”

“Hmmm, is it though?” I say, squinting my eyes. “Seems like you’re holding a girl against her will. You can’t expect us just to walk away. Right?”

Adan glances at Riggs, who has clearly been having the same conversation with Eve because she’s got her arms crossed and she’s not moving.

“This girl,” Riggs begins.

The girl looks at him with a hard expression, then cuts him off. “My name is Poppy.”

Everyone looks to Poppy, who is still smirking.

“Poppy,” Riggs grinds out, “has been stealin’ from the club.”

I blink.

“Her?” I say, glancing at Poppy. “That tiny little thing has been stealing from the club?”

“That tiny little thing,” Beckett growls from his position beside her, “is a fuckin’ tiny demon.”

Okie doke. Demon. Got it.

“I wasn’t stealing. I was borrowing,” Poppy points out. “There’s a difference.”

“Fail to see fuckin’ how,” Beckett growls at her.

“Poor thing,” She croons. “Miss a few years of schooling, did you? Let me educate you. Stealing is when you have no intentions of returning said object, borrowing is when you have every intention of returning it. Is that clear for you? Would you like me to write it down?”

You can practically see the steam pouring from Beckett’s ears. I fight a laugh because damn, girlfriend is sassy as fuck.

I love it.

“We’ve had cash goin’ missing for weeks now, and we find you with the fuckin’ lot of it,” Riggs growls. “Care to explain.”

“Absolutely,” Poppy chimes in. “You found me with cash, correct. Cash that you had made, fake cash, cash that’ll never cut it out there in the real world. I took said cash and replicated it. Properly. So, the cash you found on me indeed looked like your cash; only it wasn’t. I scrapped your rubbish and made my own. I made it better. I made it so it’ll pass every check.”

Wait, what?

Does the club make fake cash?

For what?

Do I even want to know?

I’m not sure I do.

“Show me that cash,” Riggs orders.

Beckett reaches down to a bag sitting on the ground beside Poppy, and he shoves his hand in, pulling out a bundle of cash. He tosses it at Riggs, who starts inspecting it. I have no idea what he could possibly be looking for? How do you tell if cash is fake or real? To me, that looks perfectly real. Can people tell if it’s not? Shops? I have no idea how this all works.

“You made this?” Riggs asks, looking at Poppy with an impressed expression on his face.

Obviously the money is good.

Poppy nods.

“Why would you be takin’ my cash?”

Poppy shrugs. “You’re a club. I know you do illegal shit. I’ve been interested in counterfeit money for quite some time. I won’t share how or why. Either way, I have sources that told me you make it, so I wanted