Page 63 of Biker's Property

I followDeacon into the motel lobby. There’s a Hollingsworth at the front desk. That side of the family is so fucking big that I don’t know her, but she has hair as red as Tylee’s that can only come from that side of the family. Deacon leads me to a door at the back of the lobby, opening it to reveal his illegal off-rez gambling operation.

The two Indian girls from outside are running a blackjack table. Four bikers hunch over the table as they play. The poker table sits three. The fourth seat is mine, I’m guessing. Small globes of orange light barely illuminate the sketchy back room filled with thick cigarette smoke.

I glance at the men sitting at the poker table. Bikers. I recognize one as a fellow Rebel Barbarian, the newest member Warden. But the other two… I glance at their cuts. What the fuck? I don’t want to betray anything, so I sit down at the poker table, although my heart starts pumping blood when I read the names on the patches and the club name stitched on the back of their leather jackets.

I’m playingpoker against the Midnight SS.

And I don’t knowwhy I agreed to get into this shit.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

STEEL

The drug screaming its way through my arteries right now feels far more potent than liquor. I hated the coffee in prison and only viewed coffee as a hangover cure rather than a possible avenue towards pleasure. This is better than coffee. This is sweet, sweet American nectar. And I crave more of it.

I smack Joslin’s ass and she yelps. Loud.

“Come on, hot stuff,”I say to her as I smack Joslin’s perfect, perky ass. The damn thing jiggles as she gives me another pointless warning over my reasonable consumption of caffeine. I could have finished a few more of these drinks. “I’m ready to go.”

“Do you know where you’re going, Ryder?” She asks nervously. “You’re vibrating.”

“I’m not vibrating. Just awake. Now come on.”

I get on the back of the bike. The energy coursing through me makes me want to run to Las Vegas with Joslin on my back. I want to marry this woman. Soon.

“It’s better than being drunk,” she says. For the first time in my life, I agree. This shit is way better than coffee and in a couple hours… I’ll be needing more. The second I feel Joslin’s sexy ass clawing my back with her death grip, I start the engine. Glad she got used to the bike the first time because I’m done going easy on her…

Her grasp on me tightens as I hit the highway and rev the bike up to the speed limit. Then faster. Joslin takes one hand and squeezes my thigh, an obvious warning sign and change from her previous behavior. I try to comfort her by adjusting my hips in the seat as I push the bike even faster.

I’m afraid of what will happen if I slow down. Every minute I spend around this woman puts me in total danger of losing my mind and fucking her like crazy. I don’t care about her first husband or whatever religion or race she comes from. Everything about Joslin brings out my protective, animalistic urges.

This woman makes me feel like more of a man. The way she looks at me. The way she touches me. Every second I have her in my arms, I want to plunge my dick between her legs. It’s more than sexual desire. It’s… complete. Total. I already know it doesn’t get better than Joslin. You don’t find sweet, funny women who kiss like they’re wild, but keep you in line with their strong, unshakable morals.

Sure,she killed her first husband. But let he who is free from sin throw the first stone. It goes something like that in the Bible. After we’re married, and after I get permission to mostly retire from club business, I’ll ask Joslin to show me her favorite parts…

The colors are much brighterin Las Vegas. Maybe it’s those energy drinks, but it feels like the perfect Nevada summer. Once you experience summer heat behind bars, you find nothing to complain about with sunlight on your skin — or soaking through your denim jeans.

Joslin hasn’t let up on her tight fucking grip. I know my speed must have put some fear in her but… here we are. This city has more spirit than St. Louis, far more local spots friendly to bikers, great football team, and some Sinclair history. I wonder briefly if I should tell mom I’m getting married.

I don’t knowwhat to tell her. Part of why I always wanted to elope. Driving into the city, we have to slow down due to traffic, giving Joslin plenty of time to relax her grip and look around.

I’m searching for something…but I don’t know what it is until I see it driving a few blocks away from downtown.

VEGAS DELUXE WEDDINGEMPORIUM

My turninto the parking lot surprises Joslin, who nearly tips off the bike but I slow down around the curve so she can get a better grip on me. There aren’t any other cars in the parking lot, but the red neon “OPEN” sign spells good things. Joslin hops off the bike like it’s on fire.

Before I can solve the puzzle of what I did wrong, she takes her helmet off and throws it at me.

“I TOLDYOU NOT TO HAVE THREE!” She shrieks. I swear, I never heard Joslin get this loud. I take my helmet off and stop hers from clattering to the ground. The force of her voice shocks me.

“We’re fine. Look, church girl. Deluxe Wedding Emporium.”

“I can read it, Ryder. You almost killed me!”

“Baby,” I say to her, trying not to laugh. “You’re fine. We’re both fine. I would never hurt you.”

The rage still plastered on her face tells me she isn’t buying it. I’ve run into a wide range of responses from first timers and considering everything, she’s still handling it quite well. No need for anger. This woman’s life was never in danger. Joslin now has uncertainty she didn’t have before written all over her face.

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