“Youdidfall for me,” Skip says, smug as sin. “Accidentally. And now? Can’t escape.”
“I don’t want to escape,” I mumble.
Skip wiggles his eyebrows and grabs the book from my hands. “See? Accurate.”
He flips the book open dramatically and reads, “‘Chapter One: Accepting Your Fate: He’s Going to Call You Pretty Boy Until You Die.’”
Everyone laughs again.
“I fucking knew you wrote these damn books,” Spike says.
“It has diagrams,” Patch adds proudly.
My head snaps up. “Diagrams?!”
Sunny claps. “Oh yeah. Mine had stickers.”
“Mine had a fold-out chart,” Riley says. “About emotional regulation for stubborn bikers.”
“Mine had a glossary,” Lila whispers. “Mostly…grunts translations.”
Skip flips further. “There’s a page calledIf Your Biker Gets Shot and Tries to Walk It Off: What Not to Do.”
He clears his throat…loud and dramatically…then reads:
“Section 4: If Your Biker Gets Shot and Tries to Walk It Off: A Step-By-Step Guide to Preventing a Near-Death Temper Tantrum.”
Bones groans. “Patch…come on.”
Skip’s grin only gets bigger. He keeps reading:
“Step 1: Ignore anything he says. Anything. If he claims the bullet ‘barely grazed’ him, understand he is lying. Bikers lie. About bullets.”
Max mutters, “This is personal.”
Skip continues:
“Step 2: If he stands up, sit his dumb ass back down. If he insists he’s fine, he is not fine. If he tries to ride his bike, call for backup. If he tries to win an argument while actively bleeding, slap him with a wet towel.”
Spike rubs his neck.
I can’t help but smile at the pure joy on Skip’s face.
“Step 3: If your biker attempts to escape medical care:
• Lasso him.
• Bribe him.
• Threaten to take away sex.
• Or run him over gently.
Pick whichever method causes the least property damage.”
Sunny chokes. “Really, Patch. Run him over gently?”
Patch shrugs. “It’s effective.”
