Shit.
Maybe I’m the fucking pussy here and shouldn’t be throwing stones.
“Let’s get home, boys,” I say to my brothers, already striding back to my ride.
“Hang on,” Ace says, jogging to the truck. “Hazard lights,” he adds when he gets out.
Riot snorts. “You don’t fucking say? That’s what that blinking is?”
“Just don’t want these guys getting run over, you know?” Ace explains, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Genuine Mother Teresa,” Bullet mutters.
“Heard she was a bitch, actually,” Reaper throws in.
I shake my head and straddle my bike, not feeling the need to add to the conversation. In seconds, we’re back on the road, the breeze finally cooling me off.
It’s quiet back at the clubhouse, with most of the brothers working tonight’s run in one way or another. A few hangarounds and tired-looking club girls sit at the bar, their eyes going to us as soon as we enter. Looking for a target.
“We need some fresh blood here,” Viper says sadly. “These bitches have taken so many turns they’re practically hollow.”
Bullet clicks his tongue. “Didn’t need that visual, asshole.”
“I’m just sayin’, if we don’t get some new pussy in, we’re likely to start fucking each other.”
“Shut up, Viper,” Ace mutters. “We don’t need strange pussy here on a night like tonight. Poking their noses in club business.”
Diesel chuckles. “You’re just still bitter that the blue-haired reporter chick didn’t succumb to your lacking charms last year.”
“She was only after a story!” Ace bitches, dragging himself to a barstool.
“That and our coke, brother,” Ryder snickers, slapping him on the back.
I wave at them and turn to the hallway leading to my bedroom. “Good job tonight.”
“Already pussy-whipped,” Diesel calls after me. I flip him off over my shoulder, even though my feet are leading me right to Sasha’s door.
There’s no light coming through the crack at the bottom. I carefully test the doorknob—unlocked. Did she leave it like that hoping I’d come in?
Why would she want an old man like you, Jenson?
My conscience, or whatever the fuck this nagging voice is, needs to take a motherfucking hike.
Slowly, I push the door open until the shaft of light falls over her sleeping form.
There she is. Sweet. Innocent. And she calls to me like a siren.
I grit my teeth. Tomorrow, we’re having a cookout to celebrate a successful run. And I’m going to need to decide once and for all if I’m going to lose myself in random pussy to try and forget about her… or make her mine and put her in even more danger than she already is.
9
SASHA
Ruth hands me another pitcher of lemonade, her hands steady despite the weight. “Just top off anyone who looks thirsty, honey. These boys drink like they’re trying to put out a fire.”
“Thanks, Ruth.” I smile at her, grateful for her constant guidance. Whether it’s explaining club etiquette or showing me how to navigate this strange new world, she’s been my lifeline these past weeks.
The compound’s backyard buzzes with activity—smoke rising from the grill where Tank flips burgers, brothers lounging in lawn chairs with beers in hand, music thumping from speakers. It feels almost normal, like any summer barbecue, except for the cuts and guns casually displayed alongside the condiments.
