Cash is his cool-headed best friend, the one who brings the logic and fairness. He’ll always be there as a sounding board, ready to talk Mace off the ledge when he needs it. Every good leader needs somebody like that by their side.
Logan’s the stable presence this club needs. Dependable, solid, but fearless as all get out when the situation calls for it. He’s the older brother who’ll keep everyone grounded and in line.
And then last but not least, there’s Ozzie. The wild card. The comic relief who keeps them all laughing even in the darkest oftimes. Somehow he’s able to get even the grumpiest son of a bitch to crack a grin. All while holding his own when necessary.
These men are my successors, and I couldn’t be prouder to pass the baton to them.
Some part of me thinks Tom—the real Tom, the one who used to be my best friend before everything went to shit—would be proud too.
Wherever he’s watching from…
I push up from my chair and gesture toward the door. “Come on. Let’s head out to the barroom for a drink. We all need one after everything that’s been happening lately.”
The five of us turn and walk out of the office together, and I flick off the light behind me.
The fierce rumble of my bike disrupts campus as I pull up outside Wheaton University.
Heads turn. Students glance over from the quad, some curious, others wary. A professor walking to his car does a double take, clutching his briefcase a little tighter.
I’m sure I make quite the picture—a silver-haired biker in a leather cut complete with a skull and crown, parked outside a college campus like I own the place.
But I don’t give a fuck.
I’m here for one thing and one thing only.
I prop out the kickstand and sit patiently, the engine idling before I cut it off.
The April afternoon is breezy and warm, the kind of spring day that makes you grateful you survived winter. Cloudless blue sky stretching on forever. Bright sun shining down, heating up my shoulders through the leather.
I check the time on the dash.
Right on time.
I settle back and wait, my eyes scanning the crowd of students spilling out of buildings and crossing the campus in every direction. Backpacks and books and chatter fill the air. Kids who have no idea how good they’ve got it—young, free, their whole lives ahead of them.
Then I spot her.
Solana materializes among the crowd like she’s the only person in color and everybody else is black and white. Her butterfly locs swing along her shoulders as she walks, her bookbag half slung over her back. She’s wearing a springtime dress that comes a few inches above her knees, the fabric rippling in the breeze, showing off those gorgeous legs.
She’s so fucking breathtaking it takes me a moment to compose myself.
Easy. You’ve got all night to be naughty with her.
Her dark eyes scan the parking lot, and the moment she spots me, her whole face lights up. She beams wide then scurries over, weaving through parked cars.
I dismount to meet her halfway.
My hands find her waist, and I pull her into me, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss hello. She tastes sweet like the strawberry lip gloss on her lips. The taste has come to symbolize everything good in my life.
When I finally let her go, she’s giggling, cheeks flushed.
“I expected you in your truck,” she admits, a little breathless.
I grin down at her. “Figured since it’s Friday and I’ve finally gotten rid of that cane, we could go for a ride. You up for one?”
Her brown eyes sparkle. “Gear me up.”
I chuckle and grab the extra gear I brought. I take my time wrapping her up, zipping the jacket over her dress and making sure the helmet is snug. She watches me with soft eyes the wholetime, letting me fuss over her like she knows how much I need to.
