Page 68 of Playboy’s Purgatory

I can only fucking imagine.

Hands wrap around my arm and my head snaps down to find Lola trembling and trying to get closer to me. “I’m her mother, I have a right to be concerned about how she’s being raised,” Lola tries to defend herself.

For a second, I’m amazed at the layers of victimization she’s crafted into one sentence. And I’m disgusted by how easily it would have worked on me before.

Not now though. No fucking way.

My jaw clenches and I barely get the words out through my gritted teeth, “Let go of my arm. Right fucking now.”

Lola whines, but I don’t give a single fuck.

“I have never wanted you, Lola. I’ve already said this to you. Do not reach for me. Do not touch me. Do not follow me around. Now that you’ve spread lies about a brother, you should just start packing,” my voice is glacial and edged with steel.

I won’t back down from this.

When I meet Ryker’s gaze, he inclines his chin slightly and I know the decision is all but made.

Even though most things are taken to a vote, whether it’s just core leadership or the entire club, when something like this comes up our Prez can decide. For the sake of the club and expediency.

There’s a reason he’s our fucking Prez.

And I trust Ryker with my life.

Lola looks around and properly reads the room. Without a word, she turns and struts away like none of it can ever touch her. I only keep my eyes on her to make sure she actually fucking leaves.

You can never be too careful.

“Damn, Graycie,” Wrecker jokes, “I was a little afraid of you for a second there.”

“If only you hadn’t stopped me,” Graycie pouts and shoves Snake’s shoulder. He doesn’t move an inch.

When I look back at Lara, she’s already watching me. It’s like she’s waiting to see what I’ll do next. She’s not sure how hard I’ll fight.

My movements are fluid as I bend and pick her up and drape her over my shoulder. Laughter and cheers ring out from my brothers and the ladies.

Lara hits my back, her voice incredulous, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m taking you for a ride,” I tell her like it should be obvious.

She still struggles, but my strides are long. I don’t waste time and put her down right on the back of my bike. Her big blue eyes are wide as she steadies herself.

“I’ve never ridden before,” her voice shakes slightly.

I don’t say anything at first while I reach into my bag to pull out the jacket I have ready for her. And her helmet.

Lara’s mouth falls open as she looks at what I’m holding out for her. I know when Rumble picked Vanessa up today, she got the same and a pair of boots. Dad sent me a photo and I’ve already saved it.

Vanessa looked like she was ready to take on the open road.

Now my woman will too.

“I’ll go slow at first. You keep your feet on the pegs and lean when I lean while holding onto me.”

“You make it sound incredibly simple when I’m not sure I understand the physics involved in us not toppling over to our doom,” she sasses.

“There’s no need to understand the physics of it all, Cupcake,” I drawl. “Your job is to hold on tight and enjoy the ride.”

Her nod is tentative and when I look into her eyes, I see something I’m almost afraid to name—burgeoning trust in me, as the man not the tattooist.