Page 10 of Single Mom for the Bikers

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t surprise me. She got pregnant and let’s just say he made it clear he wasn’t interested in helping out.Nova—that’s what Shelby was going by back then—had nobody. I’m no fucking angel, but my sister’s only a year younger than her and the thought of her alone on the street… I couldn’t walk away. I helped her get back to her folks and kept in touch, making sure she was okay.”

Sledge nods like it makes perfect sense. He probably woulda done the same thing. He’s blunt to the point of rude, and leads with his fists a lot of the time, so people tend to discount him as dumb muscle, but it’s a mistake. He’s smart, with rock steady principles and loyal to a fucking fault.

“And Dodger just let her leave?” Phoenix asks quietly.

I wince. It’s an ugly story, and Shelby’s to choose who knows it. “No, but thanks to us, the Pit Vipers are a fucking skid mark in the history books. He survived the slaughter when we rescued Eagle eye’s daughter, but got picked up by the cops. Must’ve pissed someone else off because now he’s six feet under, and both Shelby and Mia are better off for it.”

“Only a shame it wasn’t us who did it. Good fucking riddance.” Phoenix leans back. “So how long are you fuckers gonna sit there and watch me?”

“Long as it takes.” Sledge leans back too, and crosses one leg over the other.

“Jesus Christ, you fuckers are a pain in my ass.”

6

PHOENIX

“Quit lookingat me and spit it out, old man,” I grumble, not looking up from my bike. And here I was enjoying finally having some time alone without everyone acting like I was about to fucking keel over and die.

Razor steps out of the shadows. He whistles when he sees my rear wheel mangled on the floor. “How bad is it?”

I sigh and lean back, hands black with grease and one of my knuckles bleeding. “Could be a lot worse. The rim is toast, but other than needing a new axle and a swingarm, it’s not as bad as it looks. Still pretty fucking bad. But that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

He crosses his arms in front of his chest and scowls at me from behind his thick, gray beard. He might have thirty years on me, but sometimes it feels like we’re veterans from the same war. We both carry scars, some visible, some not. There’s no hate between us, but usually we avoid each other, so I know he’s gotta have a reason for talking to me.

“I can’t just want to make sure you’re okay? Your parents?—”

“Are dead and gone. Don’t fucking bring them into it.”

He nods and the jolly old biker mask slips from his face, revealing the tired old timer beneath. He gestures at the bike. “Fine, fine. Listen, before someone took a shot at you, did anyone reach out?”

A chill runs down my spine. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Crouching down low, his hands resting on his scuffed leather boots, he leans in to whisper, “Think. Have you gotten any calls or messages that might tie back to our… shared history?”

There’s no one here to hear him, but I still look over my shoulder. Eagle-eye and the officers know my past, but it isn’t public knowledge, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. “I might have had my bell rung, but that’s not the kind of shit I’d forget.”

He grunts in agreement.

“Why? Who contacted you?”

Razor rocks back on his heels with a guilty look on his face.

I curl my fingers around the wrench. “If you?—”

“No!” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Do you really think I’d turn?”

“Then stop talking in fucking circles.” I glance around the huge garage attached to the side of the Screaming Eagles clubhouse. It's not unusual for members to be working on their bikes in here, even at this hour, but tonight it's fucking dead. “No one's here. Just spit it out.”

“When did you grow up? When did I get so old? Look, I don’t know what’s going on. If I did I’d go to Eagle-eye. That’s why I’masking you. I got a call the other night from an unlisted number asking me if the grass really was greener on the other side, if it meant being a pampered little lap dog. When I asked who was asking, they said to think about it and hung up.”

“Did you recognize the voice?”

He shakes his head. “Sounded familiar enough that it’s itching inside my brain, but I can’t place it.”

“They're dead,” I snap. “We made fucking sure of that.”

Razor shakes his head. “You know as well as I do that’s not true. We cut off their heads, but there’s always a couple rats that manage to run down the ropes. For all intents and purposes, the club's just dust in the wind, but some of them got away. I thought someone was fucking with me, but then you were targeted. I think someone wants to revisit the old glory days, and they're trying to get the band back together, if you get my drift. So I was wondering if you’d heard anything before they hit.”

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