Page 18 of North’s Claim

My fists curl. “Get her a cell phone,” I order. “All her documents. ID, driver’s license, everything. I want her on paper and protected. You hear me?”

Soul and Tornado nod, both stone-faced now.

“And a cut,” I add. “She wears my colors. No one fucks with her.”

That gets a reaction.

“You making her your ol’ lady, Prez?” Iron snorts.

“Shit, I didn’t even know you dated.” Colt grins.

“Shut it,” I snap. “She’s not my ol’ lady. She’s under my roof. That’s all.”

Cutter grins. “Under your roof. On your bike. Wearing your jacket. You sure, brother?”

I shoot him a glare so sharp he actually steps back.

“Anyone else wanna make jokes?” I ask.

No one does.

Good.

My phone rings and my eyes land to the caller ID.

I sigh and answer. “Yeah?”

“You boys’ ride smooth?” Bullet asks. I can hear a beer cracking open on the other end.

“She’s fine.”

“You sure about that?”

I glance toward the window. “She’s not going back.”

Bullet chuckles. “Never saw you look at a woman like that.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I’m not. I’m just sayin’… she yours now, and I don’t mean property.”

“She’s under protection,” I correct. “Mine. Saints'’.”

“You ever plan on giving her back?”

I pause. “No.”

Bullet laughs hard. “Didn’t think so. She’s got fire. Didn’t see it at first, but I see it now.”

The line goes quiet for a minute.

“Keep her safe, brother.”

“I will.”

I end the call, shove the phone in my pocket, and look up.

Every man in the room is watching me but no one says a word because they know the truth I won’t admit. She’s not mine but I’ll burn the fucking world down before I let anyone else touch her.