Page 66 of Biker's Enemy

“We’ll need more than a few of us to get the job done,” Hunter says. “No way in hell Juliette lets me go out to the rez without pestering me.”

“Ryder can handle it.”

“I can’t.”

He turns red.

“Why not?” I ask, giving him a suspicious look.

“I have my own problems,” he says. “Personal business.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Hunter asks, spitting out exactly what’s on my mind without me having to ask it.

“It means mind your fucking business.”

“It’s a woman,” Ethan says, barely looking up from his phone.

“Shut the fuck up,” Ryder says. “I couldn’t get Ruger’s crazy ass to listen to me, anyway. He might listen to Gideon. Tanner could put him through a wall.”

“I could handle him,” Owen says. “But… Not without backup.”

“I’ll get Tanner on the job,” I reply. “He needs to keep his mind busy.”

“I heard he has family trouble,” Ryder says. “Anything related to Midnight SS?”

“Not sure,” I reply, nervous as we get close to the subject of Avery, her identity, and the fact that the woman Don Hollingsworth screwed with might very well have a connection to these people…

But fuck if I could even guess what that connection might be.

Thirty-Three

CASH

Ipromise her I’ll get Avery back to make her stay.

Quin doesn’t know how much more I have hidden. The Midnight SS situation is absolutely fucked up.

Half the fucking Blackwood family dead in the goddamn desert. Doesn’t feel right. Next club meeting, we’ll have to look at our options from a pool of new recruits and choose which kids to patch in. I used to look forward to those meetings, but now it feels like we’re signing up our blood brothers to die.

We need war to end this quickly – I agree with Southpaw there – but that doesn’t make it pretty. Unlike my daddy, I never had a dream of running around this country and away from the woman I love. No thanks. I like my women like Quin. Soft. Planted in my bed. Unlikely to have the motivation to run away.

She sleeps heavily on my arm this morning. Her hair smells like the special oil she uses and she snores a little bit – denying it every time I confront her. I know she can’t be perfect – that she has a little darkness in her past. But who the fuck am I to judge a little darkness?

She doesn’t judge mine…

There’s something so fucking beautiful about her sleeping next to me like this… knowing that one day soon, I’ll get to make her my old lady. Make her my wife.

Quin stirs when my cell phone blares dramatically. I do let Southpaw call my phone at any goddamn hour of the day. Fuck me, these contraptions are annoying. She groans and paws around in an effort to silence the mysterious noise.

“There you go…” I grunt, moving her over slightly so I can grab my phone and answer it in bed. Quin groans with another complaint as she nestles into my arms while I let Southpaw ruin my morning sleep-in.

“What?”

“What’s with the fucking attitude?” Southpaw grunts.

“It’s nine in the morning.”

“I’ve been up with my son for the past seven hours,” he says. “My sleep is far more fucked up than yours.”

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