Page 34 of York

“Can I see him?”

“You can feed him. He loves eating those flowers out front.”

“I’ll get some!” Denny said, excited.

“Be quick,” I demanded, trying not to helicopter her, but hating when she was out of sight for more than a minute.

“I should have asked about the car instead of demanded,” York said when we were alone.

“It’s fine. I appreciate it. I noticed the brakes being a little less touchy. And I want Denny in a safe car.”

“Me too.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are you married?”

“Married?” He barked out a laugh. “No.”

“Why do you have swimmies then?”

“They’re for the club kids.”

“The club kids,” I repeated.

“Did you somehow miss the motorcycles out front?”

I’d noticed them, but until right that second, it hadn’t clicked.

He was a biker. As in, he belonged to a biker club. And this house…

“This is your clubhouse?” I asked, turning to look at the two-story home. “Every biker club I’ve ever seen has been a bar or something like that.”

“The president wanted members to be able to live here before they move out when they settle down.”

That explained it.

“You live here.”

“Yep. It’s just me, Velle, and Dixon now.”

“Dixon. Was that the one weeding the flowerbed all… unnecessarily sexily?”

He chuckled at that, and the sound had desire curling through me once again.

“That’s Dixon. He puts on a show for the old lady book club across the street.”

“That makes more sense than weeding while standing upright. So, what kind of club is this? I’ve never seen you with your cut on.” So I had no idea what kind of patches might be on it.

“When we met, I had a gun and knives on me,” he reminded me.

“Yeah.” So he was a one-percenter. “I don’t want my daughter around drugs.”

“We don’t deal drugs. We deal in weapons. And all of them are safely hidden. There are a lot of club kids around here.”

I nodded at that. “How dangerous is your job?”