Page 33 of Falcon

I turned around and the bleach blonde with shitty eyeliner and overdrawn lips stood with her arms crossed. “Is there a problem?”

“No problem. Just making sure you know your place here, bitch.”

Mama Hen barked at her, “Shut the fuck up, Sugar, and get back behind the bar.”

“By the way, I already rode on his bike once, and I’m pretty sure I will again tomorrow. I’ll let you know how it goes.” I smiled as I leaned back in my chair and Jeannie, Lacy, and Mama Hen laughed. The other two ladies sitting nearby were fighting back grins and looking the other way.

Sugar’s face turned beet red before she stomped away.

“What’s the deal with riding with them?” I asked. “She doesn’t care we went on a shopping spree but has a problem with me riding on his bike? I don’t get it.”

Jeannie turned up her beer. “Women don’t ride on the bike with them unless they’re an old lady, like Mama Hen,” she said as she tipped her bottle in that direction.

“Really?” Lacy squealed.

Mama Hen put her bottle down. “There’s rules. They live by a code. And when it comes to women, they’re all fair game unless they’re claimed. And being claimed is only good for them. Means nobody else can touch you, but that’s it. If you’re an old lady, though, that’s more sacred than a wife. You’re the only one who rides with him, lives with him, gets taken care of, and is his property.”

I nearly choked on my beer. “Property? Like cattle?”

Jeannie giggled. “Not like cattle. It’s an honor and a privilege. Think of it more like you become part of the club. Just so you know, women aren’t necessarily seen as equal to them. But the old ladies are important and have the protection of the club.”

“And you all are just fine with that?” I scoffed. “I’m not property. I’m a human.”

Mama Hen and Jeannie shared a concerned look. Jeannie went on. “Listen, that’s just what they call it. But you’ll see. It’s different. And from what I can tell, you should probably make peace with that soon.”

“I’m proud as hell to be an old lady. This cut,” Mama Hen said as she grabbed the collar, “is my most prized possession. Even more so now.”

Lacy sank into her chair, and I stumbled over my words. “I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it wasn’t important. This is all just so different.”

Mama Hen dropped her chin. “It is. This life is different, hon. But from what you told me, it’s better than any you’ve experienced. You’ve got a family now, if you’re willing to accept it.”

“Accept what?” His deep voice was behind me and I turned in my seat. Even though I wasn’t sure about being his property, I was glad he was back.

“Oh nothing, hon. You boys sitting with us?” Mama Hen asked.

Falcon reached his hand out and I put my hand into it without thinking. “It’s been a long day. Gonna grab some shut eye. I have a long sitting tomorrow.”

I stood but leaned down to give a soft side hug to Mama Hen. I got close to her ear so she could hear me over the music. “I really am sorry. I appreciate all that’s been done for me and my friend.”

She pulled away and her hand cupped my cheek. “I told you sweet girl, it’ll take a lot to offend me. We’ll show you the ropes. And we’ll see about getting you out to the strip club soon, okay?”

Sighing with relief, I went with Falcon out of the party area and back toward his room. My buzz was nearly non-existent now and exhaustion was creeping in. We were halfway back to his room before it registered that we were still holding hands.

Looking over, I studied him. He was acting like it was totally normal. I probably should have pulled my hand away, but I liked the way it felt in his. He held it tight. Not squeezing hard, but not all loose like it was out of obligation, either. It felt more protective than possessive, but I got the sense it was a little of both. Like property.

I shook off the thought. I probably just didn’t understand, but it sounded bad. Especially since I just left a man who treated me as if I was literal property.

We made it to his door and he opened it, waving me in first. Once the door was closed, he let my hand go and pulled things from his pockets, tossing them into a bowl on his dresser. “What were you shaking your head at just now?”

Shit, he noticed that? “Nothing. I just have a lot to learn about bikers.”

“Not bikers. One percenters.”

“Is there a difference?”

He chuckled and the deep sound from his chest made the space between my hips warm. “A lot of differences. Yes. What were the ladies telling you?”

I sat on the edge of the bed and watched as he carefully removed his cut before sitting on the futon to pull his boots off. “Things. Like how Mama Hen is property of the club.”

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