Page 49 of These Deadly Vows

I’m not sure any man has ever looked at me, except maybe Roberto. I shudder at the thought of his severed head. Capone whistling at Carla as she does a twirl for him breaks me out of that dark headspace.

I run my fingers over the creepy ghost face painted on the side of the gas tank, trying to pay attention as they each go over a basic rundown of guidelines for being a passenger.

“Don’t wiggle and move around,” Ghost tells me as I throw a leg over and straddle what he calls the bitch’s seat. Once he’s on, he has me scoot forward a little, placing my crotch to his rear.

I grab his belt loops and he shakes his head. “Arms around me, princess. Something happens and you need me to pull over, tap my belly twice and that’ll tell me to stop.”

I rest my hands on his stomach under his tee, trying to resist the urge to scratch my nails across his abs. I found out from Axe that my husband is fifteen years older than me.

Before I was aware of my father’s plan for me to marry Roberto, I had always had this strange fear of being forced to marry an older Capo. A fat, ugly one on the verge of losing whatever was left of his graying hair.

Even if I hate Ghost nearly every second of my existence, I’m glad he’s at least hot.

We roar out of the parking garage. The purr of the engine vibrates my insides. I look over at Carla and Capone in the lane next to ours when we stop for a traffic light. Her mouth is covered like mine, but I can tell there’s a big smile on her face.

Riding through the city is such a different experience compared to doing it in a car or even the L Train. Everything’s louder and more alive. Including me.

The four of us end up at a bar with other bikers wearing cuts with different logos on the back. Before we enter, Ghost takes the bandanna that was around my face and ties it around one of my belt loops, clearly displaying that I’m affiliated. Capone mirrors the same action with Carla.

Inside, we order some beers and the guys put in for the next game at one of the billiard tables in the back of the low-lit bar. We get a few looks, mostly the other men sizing up Capone and Ghost until they see their patches. Others seem to recognize them immediately.

“Friends of yours?”

“Something like that. This bar is one of the only neutral ones in the city that isn’t affiliated with one club. It serves as a space where we can communicate without a fight breaking out. Was the safest and worst place to take you. No one will touch you in here, but it also means they now know who you are.”

“Great.”

“We’ll always have targets on our backs, but you’ll always be safe with me.” His gaze lingers on my lips, but he doesn’t kiss me.

Disappointment must color my face, because he winks at me before tipping his beer back and chugging. A table opens up and Carla grabs me by the arm, leading me to the old-fashioned jukebox in the corner. She cashes in some bills for change from the quarter machine next to the bathroom, where there is also a condom dispenser. Classy.

We browse the song choices, finding a selection that probably hasn’t been updated since the late 1970s. I leave the decision to Carla. Capone grabs two stools, situating them away from everyone else, next to the jukebox where we can watch them play. With them distracted with their sticks and balls, I start grilling Carla.

“Have you been talking to Capone?”

“We’ve been texting a little. Nothing serious. I was surprised when he called. I was going to turn him down until he mentioned you.”

“Has he told you anything about Ghost or the club?”

“Our chats are more sexual. He wants to fuck me.”

I nearly spit out my beer at her bluntness, but that’s my best friend. She rarely holds back. “Are you going to?”

“I haven’t decided. Though there’s something to be said for tall, dark, and dangerous. And those tattoos are sexy.”

She’s not wrong. I’m torn. Of course, it would be convenient and great for me for her to be involved with him if I didn’t know what these men were capable of. Only I do know, and I don’t want this life for her. As much as I want to protect her, that’s not something I get to decide for her.

I know what it’s like to have the freedom of choice ripped away.

She bumps her shoulder with mine. “How’s married life treating you? The two of you seem less tense.”

“We’re trying to make things work. He, um, agreed to stop fucking other people for now.”

“For now? Ugh. I suppose that’s something.”

“Maybe. If he’s to be trusted.”

“And you don’t trust him?”

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