Page 131 of Property of Rattler

I’m not the only one to see Ghoul clenching his fists.

“Flynn,” I hiss into his ear. “Please. I don’t want a fight on my wedding night.”

With a pained look toward me that suggests he’d rather be anywhere else, and a whispered, “I just hope you weren’t lying when you told me I could sing.” Flynn steps forward. “I’m willing to give it a shot.” He grabs the microphone and remote, then steps up to the monitor, flicks through the suggestions, then his lips curve.

As the opening sounds of ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ start to play, he clears his throat.

I don’t think Creed has noticed he’s lost control of his karaoke equipment as he and Ghoul are body checking each other. Laughter and jeers are still continuing, while Flynn’s brothers are backing away as if to distance themselves.

Then Flynn starts singing. And, oh my God. His voice is everything I remembered. He’s not just fumbling his way through it like amateur singers I’ve heard at Open Mic nights, he’s putting his heart and soul into it, sounding just as good as the original.

Slowly the racket dies down, Creed and Ghoul stop their bickering and they, like everyone else starts paying attention to my man singing. When the final notes of the song fade away, the clubhouse is once again in uproar, this time with cheers, hands clapping and feet stomping.

Shouts start to go up of, “More.”

Mouthing,I told you, I watch as a grinning Flynn starts scrolling through the options again before launching into an excellent rendition of ‘Bad to the Bone’, quickly followed by ‘Born to be Wild’ and ‘Highway to Hell’.

Someone passes him a beer and a shot glass. He takes them then tries to leave the stage.

“Just one more,” Creedance begs him.

Flynn holds up one finger. Creed selects a song for him. Flynn chuckles, then launches into ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’.

The clubroom’s come alive, both chapters now seeming to mix and socialise. I hear more than one man congratulate Bullseye for having such a talented singer among his members, and overhear his repeated reply.

“Fuck if I knew, Brother. Man’s kept that talent hidden.”

“Get Big Daddy to hold a contest at next year’s rally.” I recognise that’s Prowler talking. “Rattler would wipe the floor with anyone.”

The music dies away, and Flynn taps the microphone. “I’m all sung out, Brothers, but I’ve got one more song in me. Might not be a total fit word-wise, but the sentiment’s in here.” Looking straight at me, he places his hand over his heart. “We live and ride hard, Brothers. But there’s one promise I want to make to my old lady.” He leans over to speak to Creed, who tees the next tune up.

Then Flynn starts to sing, his voice so full of emotion, each word obviously heart felt as he tackles another song by Journey, ‘Faithfully’. Not only is his voice strong, firm, unwavering, but he pitches every note perfectly. Cleverly he changes some of the words, making it sound like a biker on the road rather than a musician. And there’s that promise ringing out, that he’ll always be faithful to me, and he’ll always come home.

Before the final strands of the wailing guitar end, I’m across the room, throwing myself into his arms, and as he lifts me, I hoist my legs around him. Our lips meet in a bruising kiss as we promise each other forever.

“Get a fuckin’ room!” someone yells out.

Our surroundings fade as I lose myself to his taste, his touch, both of us ignoring the people around us. This is my man. My husband, again, at last. Flynn might be an asshole. I’m not stupid enough to think I’ll ever redeem him completely, but he’s my asshole, and he always will be.

The party continues around us. When we come up for air, I notice no one’s been brave enough to attempt to follow Flynn’s performance. Karaoke forgotten, the jukebox has again come into service and is blaring out heavy rock. And looking around, it’s no longer possible to distinguish Nevada and Arizona brothers, they’ve melded as one. Loud voices and laughter are all around us—people swapping stories, talking about bikes, or simply enjoying the pizza that has finally turned up.

This might not be the wedding night I’d envisaged, but as the time draws on, I realise I wouldn’t have wanted anything different. What was it Ace had said about Trixie and Freak’s nuptials?Perfectly imperfect.And he was right.

Kings are Kings wherever they’re from. Though, while I’m feeling relaxed, and enjoying the company, on an instinctive level I now understand Bullseye’s wariness when he’d accepted the invite for the night. I’m certain this club would be there for anyone wearing the Kings of Anarchy patch or those under their protection. But underneath all that, there’s just something about them, an edge that’s different. One thing’s for certain. I wouldn’t want to cross this particular club.

For a start, there’s something about their eyes. It must be the lighting, but I swear, from time to time, they flash yellow.

I shake my head. I must have drunk too much.

“You okay, darlin’?”

With Flynn’s arms around me, how can I be anything but?

Later, after we consummated our marriage in such a glorious way, I now feel drained and totally worn out. I let the events of the last few months run through my mind. Never would I have expected my own kin to hate me so much that he’d kill me or sell me off just to get his hands on my money, or that the person I thought was my friend would betray me. I definitely could never have imagined that my saviour would turn out to be a leather-clad biker who I despised at first sight. Nor that I’d be married, not once, but twice.

Turning, I snuggle closer to my man, who shifts in his sleep to accommodate me. Will life be roses from now on? Smiling to myself, I reckon like most couples we’ll have our ups and downs. At times, Flynn’s probably going to let the asshole side of him come out. My mouth curves further. If he reverts to his previous behaviour, I’ll be right there by him to put him right.

It seems a lifetime ago that I was a happy-go-lucky student. My only worry was keeping my grades up. Would I go back to the simpler, innocent time when I had no inkling of what evils the world could hold?