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Leaving the room, he called over his shoulder, “Lynx, your bike is here. Be outside in ten,” then disappeared.
Expecting to hear Elle say she couldn’t stay with me since I was a murderer—like Lorenzo—I was shocked when she raced to put on her nightclub high heel shoes, loudly complaining to my dad, “I thought you said I didn’t need to protect him!”
“Stop your bitching, Girly-Girl,” echoed from somewhere down a hall.
With tight fists, Elle growled. She marched to her pile of dirty clothes, picked them up, and slammed them into a small garbage can. Then she faced Vice while gesturing to me. “Please help him get dressed. I have an arse to grill.” Without a word to the man she wanted to be helped, she marched out of the room and chased Pops. “He’s not getting on that death trap on two wheels, you leather wearin’ baboon…”
Laughing, Dagger pushed off the wall and headed for my cut, still hanging on a chair. “Boy, you better hurry up and brush your teeth so we can get goin’. Grilled arse sounds painful.”
After coming back out of the bathroom, Vice offered me a pair of jeans while updating me on our next plan of action. Then he chuckled. “Your pops is my hero. No joke. That’s one smart fucker. She’s so pissed she’s forgotten she’s scared.”
Until that morning when Pops argued with Elle, I hadn’t realized how much my sister had missed out. Having just watched my dad fight for me and my heart, I suddenly felt like a lucky man, having had such a dad to watch over me. I hoped the woman raising my sister was watching over her, just like that.
T-shirt on and buttoning my jeans, I watched as Dagger came to me with my cut. “Here ya go, VP.”
Accepting it, I declared, “This don’t mean you are to stop guiding like a father.”
In such moments, motorcycle brothers can be so deep.
He smiled and said, “And let your pup-ass fuck shit up? Never.”
Slipping into my cut this time, I was even more proud to wear it.
Turning toward the door—and an uncertain future that I was now willing to face—I said, “Stallion for life.”
Dagger and Vice immediately stood tall, both repeating the words we would take to our graves. “Stallion for life.”
Being raised by bikers, who were hardly the most admirable of role models, I could be proud they had made me the man I was today. The one who wanted to fiercely watch over Elle, even though it was she who fiercely watched over me.
By the time I got outside, Pops was asking Elle, “Why are you putting on that helmet?”
She was next to my bike, pissed, and struggling to connect the strap under her chin. “Because you buffoons are going to get him killed. He has fresh stitches in his gut. We have a mafia and rival MC gang after us—”
“Not rival MC,” teased Vice. “Cartel.”
“Oh. Perfect. I love me some law-abiding cartels.” Her eyes slammed shut for her next yell. “Not!” Still fighting the helmet straps, I watched those little nostrils flare again. “Yet you ding-dongs think it is time to jump on two wheels and hit the highway?”
Dagger’s head bobbed. “Technically, hitting the highway is frowned upon. Due to road rash and all. Cruising along it is badass, though.”
Thinking it was time to save Dagger’s life since Elle was about to go nuclear, I approached her. My heart was smiling as much as my face. “Can I help you with that?”
Dropping her hands, she lifted her chin. “Please. Your da and,” she glanced at Dagger, “are making me crazy.”
After I strapped on her helmet, I kept her head tilted back. “Can I have a Stockholm kiss?”
Her eyes suddenly locked on mine, and her mouth parted. She whispered, “You need me?”
I whispered back, “Fuck yes.”
Already appearing affected by me, she nodded.
Pressing my lips to hers, sparks ignited. I could feel this simple contact throughout my whole body. If she didn’t truly want to be with me, nobody did. That is how attracted we were to each other.
Slowly pulling my mouth from hers, I sighed. “Thank you.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she distractedly replied, “Y-You’re welcome.”
Smiling, I stepped around her to see the other woman in my life. My HOG. Bertha.
