Page 57 of Last Mile

Mommy gets mad if Daddy stays too late. She says there’s nothing he can be doing but getting into trouble when he stays.”

I had to bite back a smile at her words. “She’s probably right.”

Willow smiled happily as she swung my hand back and forth in her own. “Uncle B said to take you over to Mommy and the other women.”

“Okay. That sounds good.”

After Willow led me through the wall to wall crowd inside the roadhouse, we went out the back door. As soon as we got outside, we entered what could only be classified as birthday party overload.

Clear and multicolored Christmas lights were strung up all around the clearing, along with Chinese lanterns. My nose picked up the delicious smell of hamburgers and hot dogs cooking. When I looked to where the aromas were coming from, I saw several bikers, with beers in their hands, stationed at three commercial- sized grills.

Willow then steered us over to where a multitude of picnic tables had been set up. Some of the tables, with their red- and- white- checked tablecloths, were overflowing with food and drinks while others were set with plates and plastic forks. In the middle of all the tables, there was a towering, three- tiered birthday cake with a motorcycle on top. “Wow,” I murmured.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Willow questioned.

“That’s the biggest birthday cake I’ve ever seen.”

“Uncle Rev promised me I could have the motorcycle on top.”

“Do you like playing with toy motorcycles?” Considering that she was outfitted all in pink, I hadn’t pegged her for a fan of cars.

“No. I wanted it because it’s made of chocolate.”

I grinned down at her. “Now, that sounds like my kind of motorcycle.”

A feeling of apprehension came over me when I glanced down the grouping of tables to where several of the Raiders women were setting up some of the food. Once again, I recoiled slightly at the sight of some of the ladies wearing cuts with “Property of” patches on the back. But I knew from my research that a lot of the women considered the patches a badge of honor, just as their husbands or boyfriends did their patches.

When Willow and I walked up to the group, all conversation silenced at the sight of me. Although I had met several of the women when I went on the run, all of these faces were new. “This is Uncle B’s girlfriend, Samantha,” Willow introduced.

At the mention of the word “girlfriend,” several of the women gasped in surprise while a few narrowed their eyes at me. Almost instinctively, my hands flew up in front of me. “Friend, not girlfriend. Bishop and I are just friends.” My explanation did little to lighten the animosity flowing through the air.

A busty brunette, who was outfitted from head to toe in black, stepped almost toe-to-toe with me. “Willow, will you run to the kitchen and get us some more ketchup?”

“Sure, Miss Annie. Be right back,” Willow replied before sprinting off toward the house.

I felt like a real chickenshit after Willow left me alone with the women. I glanced nervously around the group. Where the hell was Kim or Alexandra and Annabel? The better question, though, since most of these women were new to me, was whether the Raiders had a revolving door of women. A large part of me didn’t really want to know the answer.

When I remembered the gift bag in my hand, I thrust it out lamely. “This is for Rev.”

Annie’s eyebrows shot up. “You got Rev a present?”

I nodded. “It’s his birthday, isn’t it?”

Annie pursed her lips. “That’s not the point.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t get what you mean.”

After sweeping her hands to her hips, Annie questioned, “Do you often buy presents for other women’s husbands?”

Annie’s tone had me swallowing hard as I glanced at the other women. “Um, well, I didn’t think⁠—”

“I don’t know where you come from, but around here, we don’t take too kindly to floozies trying to flirt with our husbands.”

Once again, I held my hands out in front of me. “I swear, I wasn’t trying to flirt with Rev. I just⁠—”

I was interrupted by a familiar voice behind me. “Okay, Annie, that’s enough yanking Samantha’s chain.”

Relief flooded me when I realized it was Kim. With a friendly grin, she threw her arm around my shoulder. “If anyone gets to give her shit, it’s me.”