Page 68 of Last Mile

“Thanks. I was tired of being a loser.”

“You could never be a loser, Bishop. You have too much drive and ambition.”

“I didn’t always. I was pretty much a lazy drunk when I was a teenager,” I admitted.

“It’s hard for me to imagine you like that.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t pretty. I gave my poor parents hell with all the trouble I got in.”

“What turned you around?”

“My old man. He had me start prospecting at eighteen so that I could have some direction.” Shaking my head with a smile, I said, “In some ways being in an MC is like going into the military, and the prospecting period is like boot camp. Being disciplined by all the men I knew and admired really helped to put me in my place.”

Samantha’s expression turned serious. “Can you ever imagine not being part of the MC?”

I shook my head. “Nope. It’s not only in my blood, but it’s the only world I’ve known. Plus, it’s how I met you.”

She gave me a small smile. “That’s true.”

“Don’t worry, Sam. The MC world isn’t going to bury me until I’m an old man.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“We won’t be living by violence anymore, so we can’t die that way.”

“That’s a very interesting concept. One I hope that is true.”

“You just have to trust me.”

Something flared in her eyes. After staring at me for a few seconds, she finally replied, “I’ll try.”

I smiled at her. “Forget about your feelings for the MC world and just enjoy tonight. Enjoy dancing with me.”

“I am. I really am.”

“I’m glad because I am, too.”

A teasing smile played on Samantha’s lips. “The first time I ever laid eyes on you was when you were dancing.”

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

She bobbed her head. “I say dancing— but it was really more like humping on the dance floor.”

I barked out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess that’s the only real dancing I know how to do.”

“You’re not so bad with the slow, non-humping kind.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

As I stared intently at Samantha, I said, “I really like dancing with you.”

“You said that already,” she murmured, gazing into my eyes.

“I wanted to say it again because I really meant it— it wasn’t just some bullshit line.”

“Is that right?”