Page 9 of Ex-Military Biker’s Bride

She looks out the door at the mountain for a second, her eyes flicking down to where the lodge is, and nods.

“Let’s do it.”

I carry Olivia down from the cabin to the plane. She starts to protest, but then relaxes in my arms, wrapping her hands around the back of my neck.

My little Cessna’s takeoff run is on soft, wet ground, so I get her off the ground with the trees closer than I’m comfortable with. Once we’re clear Olivia starts to laugh, a little hysterically.

“What?” The plane’s buffeted by a crosswind and I can’t twist to look at her.

“Nothing.” Her voice in the headset is warm. “I'm alive. This is all very funny.”

I have an urge to put this airplane down in a field and kiss her, but instead I fly us home over the ridge, taking the long route so we don’t go directly over the Lodge.

We’re met by Savage on the landing strip before the prop's stopped turning.

He's still in yesterday's dress shirt, sunglasses on and has the demeanor of someone who hasn’t been to bed yet. He brandishes a thermos at me and a box of pastries.

“Brother.” He hands me the thermos with great seriousness, clearly in the grip of a bad hangover. “Real coffee… fresh from Marvin’s, Taryn made these pastries too.”

“You look terrible.”

“I feel worse. Prez wanted someone stationed here in case you came back today and needed help.” He's already got the blanket around Olivia's shoulders. He helps her down out of the airplane like she's made of glass. “Pleasure. Sorry about the state of me, there was a wedding.”

“Olivia.”

He holds out his hand to me. “If you give me my keys, I’ll drive us back.”

I shake my head. “I’m driving us. Your blood alcohol level must be in the stratosphere. Where we going?”

Savage rolls his eyes. “Sheila won’t let me crash. But you can drive her if you like. We’re going to the Saloon, Prez wants to see you.”

“Sheila?”

“My truck. Doesn’t your plane have a name?”

This time it’s my turn to roll my eyes, but I keep a tight grip on my keys. Savage’s pickpocketing skills are legendary.

The Saloon is full of my MC brothers, some still visibly suffering the effects of Hawk’s wedding last night. Wrench has Lila on his lap in the corner booth and they’re staring into each other’s eyes. Harley, the enormous one-eyed cat who guards the bar, opens his eye and then closes it again when we walk in.

Bethany, Striker’s old lady, is at the end of the bar with her feet up on a crate and both hands on her pregnant belly. She’s the High Vale MC’s computer whiz, and her sharp eyes miss nothing.

“You're the rescue girl?” she asks.

“That’s me. The damsel in distress.” Olivia grins. She’s taking meeting a group of roughneck bikers and their women in her stride, and it makes me like her even more.

“How come you were up there on your own?”

“I… uh… was looking for elk.”

“I'm Bethany. When you're ready to tell someone what you were actually doing up there, come find me, not them.” She tips her head at the room full of men. “They'll want to fix everything as quickly as possible. I’m the girl you need if you want a plan.”

Prez takes Olivia into the back room and shuts the door. Her eyes widen and it’s the first time since we walked in here that she looks worried. I stand outside with my arms crossed. I trust Prez with my life, but I can’t stand to have Olivia out of my sight.

When the door opens he nods his head at me, and Olivia comes out.

Prez sits down behind the desk. “You know I've had a flag on that girl since you wrote your report? You thought she had a false name, was asking questions… took your clipboard?”

“I remember.”