Page 116 of Fighting the Forbidden

“I think most of the officers have built houses for their families back there,” Remy whispers.

“So, definitely stay out of their woods.”

“If we want to live, yeah.”

The front door’s open. But there’s no music or smoke pouring out like there has been the few times we’ve been here for MC parties. Instead, it’s all loud, rumbling male voices, women’s laughter, and children’s high-pitched squeals.

“Family night, indeed,” Remy says, pulling the screen door open. The place is a huge, log-cabin sort of building. High ceilings, exposed beams. A large staircase to our left is lined with framed photos. A generous leather sectional takes up the entire back wall and corner. The room’s full of bikers and their families.

Murphy notices us stepping inside first. The burly lumberjack-looking VP of the club grins and opens his arms wide. “Welcome.”

Murphy’s greeting draws everyone’s attention to us. We face a lot of steely-eyed biker glares. Didn’t Teller mention we were invited?

MCs are known for all their strict protocols and any perceived slight can get your ass kicked—or worse. While I try to be mindful and respectful of their rules, Remy approaches these gatherings with a whatever the fuck attitude that’ll probably get us killed one day.

Rock, the president of this charter, approaches us first, hand outstretched. “Thanks for joining us.” He shakes Remy’s hand, then mine.

“Appreciate the invite, sir,” I answer.

The corner of his mouth quirks. “Rock is fine.” He turns toward the large open living room. “I think you two know pretty much everyone here.”

I spot Wrath, the club’s enforcer, in a back corner of the room with his wife. He lifts a hand and waves. The movement draws the attention of the redhead next to him. Hope flashes a bright, welcoming smile. For a second, she disappears in the crowd, then emerges holding the hand of a little girl who looks like her tiny carbon copy.

“Hi, Griff.” Hope’s warm voice carries above the rest of the noise. Rock moves closer and slips a protective arm around her waist. Her green eyes shift to Remy. “It’s nice to have you guys up here finally.”

“Hi!” the little girl chirps, waving her hands at us.

I smile at the little girl. “Grace, right?” I say to Hope, praying that’s her kid’s name.

She nods.

Rock leans down and picks up his daughter. “Mommy’s got work to do.” He kisses her cheek. “You’re with me.”

Grace beams at him.

“We don’t have to right now,” I protest.

Somewhere deeper in the clubhouse, a baby lets a scream rip. Then, another one adds to the noise. My eyes widen and I search the room.

“Let’s go check on your cousins,” Rock says to his daughter.

“Bye, Momma!” Grace waves to all of us. Hope waves back and watches her husband head up the long staircase to our left.

Grinder takes Rock’s place, holding out a hand for Remy to shake, then me. “Good to see you two up here.”

Have we been invited before and declined or something? Remy and I share a look. He must be getting that wandering-sheep-returning-to-the-flock vibe I’m picking up.

“Do you mind if I borrow him?” Hope says to Remy, resting her hand on my shoulder.

Remy flashes a flirty smile. “As long as you return him.”

Hope’s lips purse likes she’s fighting off laughter.

Wrath somehow sneaks up behind Remy and wraps one of his tattooed, tree-trunk arms around Remy’s neck, capturing him in a rear chokehold. “Ruthless. Just the man I was looking for.”

“Why?” Remy gasps and tucks his chin.

Hope flicks an exasperated glance at Wrath. “Please don’t toss our guests around like chew toys.”

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