“Well, that successfully killed my lady boner,” Ruth calls out from the bar. Tank laughs, his face buried in his old lady’s big hair.
“Bunch of old perverts,” Viper mutters from where he’s chalking his cue at the pool table. At the bar, Kade stops polishing a glass and nods in agreement.
“You,” I snap, making his eyes turn to me in a flash. He drops the glass, barely catching it before it hits the counter. “You don’t have the right to bitch about anything, prospect.”
“I wasn’t—I didn’t say anything,” he tries to defend himself.
“Saw it on your face, kid.” I tilt my head, considering. “You know what,” I begin. “Go fix the toilet on the second floor. Preacher took a shit last week, and it hasn’t flushed since.”
Sasha makes a gagging sound, but I don’t look at her, worried I’ll crack a smile.
“Oof, that bathroom’s ripe,” Bullet snickers as he slaps Kade’s back.
“Shame we don’t have any biohazard masks,” Diesel adds.
Wyatt walks in then, carrying a crate of beer. “What do we need masks for?”
“Don’t ask,” Tank rumbles. “Not unless you wanna join your fellow prospect on a shitty job.”
“Shitty, alright,” Viper cackles, and my composure slips as I bark out a laugh.
“That toilet better be flushed and sparkling by the time I get back from Knoxville,” I tell Kade. I throw Sasha one last wink and stride out to where my baby’s parked.
My blacked-out Low Rider is warm from the morning sun. I pat the seat like a lover’s ass before I straddle the bike and kick it to life. The engine roars beneath me, making my blood sing in chorus. I let it idle for a second and glance back at the clubhouse. Where Sasha is—my old lady.
Time to make it official. Or at least get the ball rolling.
Tennessee opens up around me as I leave Briar Fork behind. Trees blur past in deep shades of emerald, the sky overhead wide and blue. It’s a goddamn beautiful day, and I regret not taking Sasha with me. Could’ve made an excuse and had her wait outside while I gave my order to Martha.
Fuck me, I really am turning into a whipped pussy. I grin against the warm wind. Didn’t imagine it’d feel this good.
I’m not at the county border yet when a police cruiser pulls out behind me, lights, sirens.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter to myself.
I recognize the man stepping out immediately, his gait a familiar thing over decades of traffic stops.
“Chief,” I greet him.
“Jenson,” he says in return as he walks to my side. “You know you’re supposed to be wearing a helmet.”
“That’s right,” I say, acting like I just forgot.
I reach into my saddle bag and pull out my brain bucket. While I’d never let Sasha ride without a full helmet, a skull cap is enough for me. At least enough to keep the law off my ass.
“How’s the girl?” Morris asks as I strap it on, forced casualness in his voice.
“Oh, she’s great,” I say with a smile as fake as the rest of this conversation. Any moment now, the old man’s gonna say what’s really on his mind.
I don’t have to wait long.
“I hope you’re not letting someone take advantage of her youth and innocence.”
Bingo.
“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it,” I retort, earnest as I can fucking be. “No one’s laying a single finger on her.”
Morris’ shoulders drop with relief. “That’s good. Thank you.”
