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“He thinks he can just sweep in and take over,” I said, anger seeping through the cold that numbed my body. “We can’t let him, Hudson. We have to stop him.”
Riptide nodded, his determination mirroring mine. “We will, Star. We’ll bring this to the clubs. United, we can stand against him and protect our territory.”
“But my dad…” I started, the confrontation with dad earlier adding more intricacy to the already hard time.
“We’ll deal with your father too,” Riptide assured, his voice firm. “Right now, the priority is your safety and getting this information to our clubs.”
His words, solid and sure, cut through the lingering fear and cold. In his arms, I found not just physical warmth but a renewed strength and resolve. Together, we would face Marco’s threat, and united we’d navigate the murky waters of my family obligations and club politics. As we left my borrowed Harley behind and headed to the Roost, I felt certain we could face anything together.
Chapter 21
Brat
After Riptide brought me safely back to the Roost, I took a shower to wash off the lake’s chill and my encounter with Marco. I was still on edge. Not only from seeing someone who wanted me dead, I was preparing myself to face discussions about my father’s demands. But as I entered the main area of the clubhouse, I was met with a scene I hadn’t anticipated.
The transformation of the Roost was jarring in its festive air, a world away from the dark currents of fear and conflict that had pulled me to the lake earlier. Balloons and streamers in black and red adorned the walls and ceilings, while the tables were laden with dishes and drinks, sweet and savory aromas mingling in a tantalizing dance. The usually faintly lit clubhouse was aglow with soft, vibrant string lights, casting everyone and everything in a celebratory hue.
Standing there with my wet hair still clinging to my neck and my clothes slightly damp, I felt as though I had stepped into another reality. Sure, the sounds of classic rock and roll blended with the laughter and chatter of the crowd as always, but the lively symphony of celebration had nothing to do with my sister’s celebrating hustling an unsuspecting man. The Roost, with its walls echoing the rumble of motorcycles and the whispers of past confrontations, now resonated with a different kind of energy.
That’s when I spotted my actual sister. Well, my half-sister, Sunny, ever the radiant beam of our family, in the midst of the Heelz. Her laughter ringing clear across the room, she caught my eye. Her smile widened in pure joy as she beckoned me over. My half-brother, Arizona, standing tall and unmistakable with his laid-back demeanor, beside her was deep in conversation with some of the Slayers, his gestures animated and friendly.
And there was Emery, the woman who had brought a sense of stability and love to our family after my mother’s passing. She stood by the bar, her elegance and warmth drawing a crowd of bikers who listened intently to her stories, her voice smooth and comforting above the racket of the party.
The sight of my family, integrated so seamlessly into the fabric of my biker world, was both heartwarming and strange. The lines between past and present, between what was once home in Tucson and my chosen home here with the Hell on Heelz MC, blurred in an image of unity and celebration.
I moved through the crowd to my family, greeted by smiles and nods, the respect and friendship of the club members enveloping me like a warm embrace. Each step took me deeper into the unexpected party, each interaction a stitch in the woven narrative of my life’s journey.
“Sunny, what are you doing here?” I asked my sister, hugging her tightly, my confusion clear in my voice.
Sunny, nearly a decade my junior, carried the youthful radiance and energy that her name suggested. With hair the color of sunlit wheat, pouring down past her shoulders, she resembled our stepmother, Emery, not just in her blonde locks but also in her gentle demeanor and warm, inviting smile. Her style was bohemian, favoring flowing dresses paired with rugged boots.
“Dad flew us out for the special occasion. It’s not every day my big sister gets engaged,” she pipped. “Congratulations, sis. Where is this hunk?”
Engaged? The word echoed in my mind, a tidal wave of shock and realization crashing over me. I turned to Arizona, who clapped me on the back with a grin.
“Never thought I’d see the day, sis. You settling down with a biker?” Arizona, my younger brother, was the spitting image of our father, Scar, with the same strong features that spoke of our heritage. Features I somehow lacked.
With high cheekbones and a stern jawline, his face was softened by a friendly smile and sharp, observant eyes set deep. His hair, long and dark, was often tied back in a style that echoes our father’s.
Emery, my stepmother, was a vision, a timeless beauty. Her blonde hair, always perfectly styled, framed a face that remarkably hadn’t succumbed to the passage of time. Though she had quite the tan. Standing fit and toned, she carried herself with an elegance and strength that spoke of a disciplined commitment to being my father’s ol’ lady, as his club calls their wives.
She was so happy she practically sang, “Star, we’re here to celebrate you and Riptide. Scar flew us out to give you our blessing for your upcoming marriage.”
I felt my world tilt again, the pieces slotting together in a dizzying array. And I was about to be pissed, thinking dad had really gone too far, asserting Riptide and I marry to seal this truce. However, Emery quickly explained that Riptide had asked Dad for my hand in marriage. The party, my family’s presence, it was all for our engagement.
But the thing was, he hadn’t asked yet. The confusion was settled once I realized my biker had planned to when he found me. He’d found something else instead, me in the lake.
“Where’s dad and Riptide?” I asked Rage, who seemed a bit overwhelmed by the family reunion.
“Out to track down your old friend, Marco,” she said. “Took some of your sisters with them.”
Before I could fully gather my thoughts, the crowd parted. And there he was. Riptide, flanked by his Slayer brothers, my sisters, too. He walked in with a confident stride, his dark eyes searching the room until they found mine.
A blush overtook me, and I couldn’t help but smile. Yes, all this fuss was for us. All for an engagement that hadn’t happened yet. However, his look conveyed a mixture of love, anticipation, and a hint of nervousness. He reached in his cut and paused. I imagined he was perhaps unsure of how I would react to this public declaration. But when our eyes met, the room seemed to fall away, the noise and celebration fading into the background.
Riptide approached, his presence commanding yet gentle, and I knew what was coming. I was ready. My heart raced, not just from the surprise, but from the realization that this was a turning point, a moment that would define our future.
The biker made his way through the crowd, and every step he took seemed to resonate with the beating of my heart. The room, filled with the joyous noise of our unexpected engagement party, hushed as he stood before me.
