Page 15 of Ripper's Redemption

In our world of shadows and violence, these sorts of moments are worth any risk. And sometimes, that’s enough to keep going.

I step out of the hospital into the cool night air, the hum of my Harley calling me like a siren’s song.

The moon hangs high, casting an almost ethereal glow on the pavement.

I take a deep breath, relishing the cool breeze that hits me. Hell, I’m lucky I can even ride my Harley right now.

But, they said next week we’re supposed to get some pretty bad thunderstorms.

Sliding onto the bike, I let the engine roar to life, the vibrations coursing through my veins.

My mind drifts to Tara—her playful smirk, the way her eyes sparkle when she teases me.

Yeah, maybe it’s just a ruse, but who am I kidding?

We both know the agreement. No strings. Just pure, unadulterated fun, and convincing the club we’re dating.

God, I hope we go for a few rounds in the sack while we’re being fake boyfriend and girlfriend.

I still remember her that night on the bike—God, she was glorious.

The image of her beneath me, lost in the moment, sends a thrill down my spine.

As I ride, the wind whipping past, I think about the club, about how we’re going to deal with the Commander, and what it means for us.

But for now, with Tara, there’s an escape, a way to forget the heavy shit going on with the club, if even for a few moments.

Pulling up to the clubhouse, the familiar sight of bikes lined up, chrome gleaming under the floodlights, brings a sense of belonging.

I nod at a few of the brothers lounging outside, their eyes following me with silent respect.

Inside, the scent of stale beer is far too strong, the low murmur of conversations creating a comforting backdrop.

“Hey, Ripper,” Jugs’ voice cuts through the noise, a sweet melody I’d normally love to hear.

She’s leaning against the bar, a mischievous glint in her rebellious eyes. “Miss me?”

“No, not really.” I reply, sliding onto the stool next to her.

If I’m going to sell the fact I’m dating Tara, I can’t be getting caught up with the clubwhores right now.

“Ouch. Maybe I need to give you a reminder.” Her tone dripping with suggestion.

“Don’t think it would do any good, Jugs. Go try to suck someone else’s cock. I’m good.”

She reels her head back like I’ve just slapped her. “Wow, that’s dickish.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Tara

The clinking of glasses and the low hum of laughter fill the air as I wipe down the bar counter.

It’s Valentine’s Day and the clubhouse is buzzing with activity.

They seem to celebrate every holiday, no matter how big or small it might be.

Roxy’s voice cuts through the noise, sweet and smooth like whiskey. “Hey, Tara,”

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