“I don’t think you do. You didn’t ask, but I’m gonna tell you what it means to me and my family.”
Her head comes up fast and she begins trying to explain. “I’m not trying to put you on the spot or make assumptions. I’m really not.”
I get huffy real damn quick. “Why don’t you close your mouth and let me talk?”
“Go ahead, Slate,” she says quietly.
Clearing my throat, I explain, “It means we live free and, like tonight, if the cops can’t keep us safe, we’ll take the law into our own hands.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“It also means we claim territory in order to protect it from other gangs. Because of those two things, the law calls us outlaws.” When she doesn’t immediately respond, I continue. “But we don’t run drugs or illegal weapons. We don’t traffic women or do any kind of crime at all. We earn our money just like everyone else. The brothers pay dues, work regular jobs, or earn through the club’s legit businesses. We’ve got a garage, amobile mechanic business, and an auto parts store. Everything is above board, and we pay our taxes every year like clockwork.”
She studies me for a long time. I can tell she’s trying to decide if she believes me.
“My family runs the club,” I add. “My old man built it. My brother’s the president. My ma and sister-in-law handle the day to day running of the clubhouse. I’m not gonna lie—we’re a little rough around the edges, but we’re not outright outlaws. I’m gonna put you in my property cut. No one in Cedar Falls would dare touch you with my name stamped across your back. No one will even raise their voice to you because they’d answer to me if they did.”
She blinks slowly, her expression softening just enough to show how tired she is. “And they’d really be okay with me showing up out of nowhere? With a child?”
“Queenie will have your room ready before you can turn around. Tessa too. You and your kid can stay in my suite upstairs. It’s off-limits to everyone except my family.”
When she hesitates, I remind her, “You always did feel safe in my keepin’.”
She squints at me, confused. “Why are you going to all this trouble for me and my daughter?”
I think about it, then shrug. “I already told you. It’s what friends do.”
She looks at the sleeping child, murmurs, “I really do like you, Slate. That’s why I don’t want to bring trouble to your door.”
“Gee, I might be a big, rough-ass biker, but ain’t never been in trouble before, ma’am.”
That gets her to crack a smile.
I tell her, “There ain’t nothing out there that I can’t handle. If there is, my club can call up almost a thousand men if we need to, and arm all of them. I think we’re more than a match for that asshole ex of yours.”
She finally nods. “Okay. It’ll just be until I can figure something out.”
“Take the time you need, sweetheart.” I stand, pull off my cut, and grab a couple of blankets from the closet. “I’m gonna sleep on the sofa. Get some rest. We’re gonna ride around mid-morning.”
She nods again before crawling into bed with her little girl. I stick the kid’s milk in the tiny mini fridge, spread my blankets out, and go to sleep. As I close my eyes, I can’t help but remember the way she looked at me when I pulled off my helmet. It was a mixture of disbelief and relief tangled together. It was just like how she looked the day I lifted her onto that transport. It’s enough to make me think we could rekindle what we once had.
Though the way she talked about leaving as soon as she could afford it, doesn’t sound like a woman who wants me. I know I should leave well enough alone, but I know myself well enough to know that I won’t.
***
The next morning, we wake up late, because we were up so late, no doubt. I had one of the prospects bring my truck andride my Harley back. While I hate the thought of someone else on my bike, I don’t want Christina and her kid getting a lift back with anyone else. I also had the prospect bring me a Sons of Rage property cut for Christina. We can always add my name when we get there. I want her in it immediately, so everyone knows from the get-go to leave her the hell alone, she’s been through enough already.
We hit the road as soon as we get showered and dressed. She didn’t put up much of a fight about the property cut because she didn’t understand the significance of wearing one. I’ll save that talk for later. Damned if she doesn’t look good in it, though.
She’d look even better inmyproperty cut.
The diner I arranged to meet Rivera at sits a few miles from the safehouse, tucked beside a feed store that hasn’t changed much since the seventies. My four-man crew comes with us, but they’re respectful enough to get their own table.
Rivera arrives about ten minutes after we do. He’s all smiles, particularly when he sees Christina in a Sons of Rage cut.
“Damn, bro, you don’t waste any time, do you?”
“Safety first,” I tell him curtly.
