Page 17 of The Price of Love

“Ya gotta stop worrying about me so much. I’m fine.”

We both know it’s a lie.

I point toward the clubhouse. “You need to track down Wiz or a Steel Grace for the route. Before I ride down to Saratoga Springs and pound on their fucking door. Wiz wouldn’t have disrespected Aces like this.”

Before she can respond, I stalk back into the clubhouse.

CHAPTER 9

ELLEN “SHADOW” STEWART

I turn down the short lane that leads to the 1893 carriage house, which serves as the Steel Graces’ clubhouse. Much of the original charm remains, despite having been modernized. My headlights hit the russet bricks, which I imagine were brighter before time dulled them. The two large wooden doors are operational, and we still open them for special events.

I drive around back. On the outskirts of a town like Saratoga Springs, nobody wants bikes littering the street, so like the good neighbors we are, the Graces park in back. I pull my car to the rear of the lot, leaving the spots closest to the entrance for bikes.

I fidget with my keys as I walk across the parking lot, hoping Wiz didn’t see me pull in. Wiz, the longtime president of the Steel Graces, doesn’t pull any punches. Over a dozen bikes are scattered in the lot. Maybe that’s enough witnesses to keep her off my ass. Sure. When Wiz is mad, she doesn’t hold back. For such a small woman, she commands a room.

I take a deep breath before pushing open the door to the clubhouse. A warm blast of air and loud music hits me. The music is likely courtesy of Sloth, the Steel Graces’ sergeant-at-arms. Everyone’s always telling her to lower the volume, but she wants it to be a party twenty-four/seven.

With the high ceilings in this old building, it’s surprising how warm the clubhouse stays. Whenever I enter, it feels like a warm hug, especially since I keep my house at sixty-three in the winter, unless the kids are visiting. I can’t afford high heating bills anymore.

I make my way down the short hallway to the main area. Inside, it looks like an upscale bar, complete with a dance floor and a gaming area.

I need a drink, so I head toward the bar.

Shit. I didn’t realize Wiz was there since the Graces standing around her tower over her. It’s too late to turn away, so I put on a smile and keep walking.

“I didn’t hear you ride in,” Wiz says as I approach.

It’s an obvious dig since she couldn’t hear anything over the music and the chatter.

“I drove my car.” I know she knows, considering the numerous monitors that stream footage from the camera out back.

“Turn around, Shadow,” Wiz says.

Shadow is my club name. They say it’s because I move quietly like a shadow, but I know there’s more. When I came to the club, I was timid and afraid. Both courtesy of my ex. I learned to stay quiet, be invisible, so I wouldn’t incur her wrath. But when she was angry, she had me jumping at my own shadow. She never hit me. Sometimes, I think it would’ve been easier if she had.

I stare at Wiz, trying to understand why she wants me to turn, but then I do as she says. I’m feeling shitty enough, so I’m not looking for more trouble. After I turn, Wiz doesn’t say anything, so I look over my shoulder.

She narrows her eyes. “Just making sure you still have a patch on your back reading MC.”

It’s her not-so-subtle way of saying that someone in a motorcycle club should ride their bike, not drive a car to the clubhouse. I know, but it’s cold tonight, and since I’ve moved out of Saratoga Springs, I hate riding home by myself in the dark.

“Stop busting her chops,” Edge calls from her seat at the bar. She’s the Steel Graces’ VP and the only one who ever challenges Wiz.

Edge has had a soft spot for me ever since I lost custody of my kids. With three of her own, she knows I’m hurting not seeing them but every other weekend. With my ex playing games, it’s been more like once a month.

“When you patch into a motorcycle club, you’re expected to ride your motorcycle,” Wiz says. She points at Sloth. “And turn down that goddamn music.”

Edge stands and approaches while the other girls watch the show. I can see by the looks on their faces that they don’t envy me.

Edge drapes her arm over my shoulders. “Weren’t you supposed to have the girls this weekend?” She glares at Wiz when she delivers the line.

“Supposed to is the magic words. Margot did it again.”

“What this time?” Edge asks, still eyeing Wiz.

“She claimed Nora was sick, and Leah didn’t want to come without her sister.”