“I’ve made the best with what I had.” I motion to the furniture. “After my mother and father split up, he lived here and ran The End. Believe it or not, it was a decent place before he got arrested and they shut it down.”
“So, your father did leave you this place.”
I nod. “Yup, my great inheritance, but at least I have a roof over my head. Plenty aren’t that lucky.”
“True. I spent plenty of years living rough, not knowing where I was gonna lay my head at night.”
I narrow my eyes, surprised at his admission of anything personal. That was not the biker code, or at least the code of the Rabid Dogs.
“Oh, and I know your name is Sammie.” He quickly brings the conversation back to me.
“Great, so stop calling me babe.”
“I should probably go now.” He leans forward and winces.
“I don’t think you could even make it down those stairs again, much less straddle your Harley.” I point to the couch. “You can stay here for the night.”
He rubs at his mid-section. “It does hurt like a bitch.”
“You should probably also stay awake, just in case of the concussion thing.”
“You gonna keep me company? Maybe tell me some interesting story of your life.”
I bark out a laugh, and he grins.
“Now you gotta tell me something. Like how you know Viper and Bullet for starters.”
After all this time, what could it hurt? And knowing Deuce was an outlaw too made it easier. He’d probably done way worse.
“Like a lot of my stories, it starts and ends with my dysfunctional family.”
“Ahhh, family. That word carries a lot of weight.”
“More like baggage. Messy and overstuffed with guilt and bad decisions thrown in.”
He cautiously smiles like he knows exactly what I’m referring to, then waves his hand at me. “Go on, let’s hear it.”
“My father owned a trucking company, and I guess you could say Bullet worked for him.”
“Driving the trucks?”
“Not exactly. More like suppling the cargo that went in the trucks.”
“I’m getting a wonky feeling, babe.”
I hold up my finger. “No more babe, remember?”
“Okay, Sammie, but you gotta tell me your real full name.”
“I don’t gotta do anything, but I’ll make an exception since you got the shit hammered out of you.” I draw in a deep breath. “My real name is Cinzia Marino. My father has always called me Sammie. I guess he really wanted a boy.”
“No shit.”
“Says the guy named Deuce.”
“My road name.”
“And is it against some biker code to tell me your real name?”
