Page 40 of Biker's Collar: Property of Scrap

“Why?”

“You put a collar on me and act all protective but… you’re sending me into some mess I’m not apart of,” Vickie says. She moves her hand against my chest and I hold it in place. I don’t want her to move her hand or any part of her body… even if we have to leave soon.

“I’ve seen how you can handle yourself,” I remind her as I stroke her hair. “If I thought you were in real danger, I wouldn’t let you do this. I swear.”

I bet she can hear my heart raising a raucous in my chest. It’s been that way with Vickie from the start. Maybe that’s what scared her off.

“Are you scared?” I ask her after a few seconds of silence. I touch her hair because I want to hold her close and keep her there. This accidental vulnerability between us scares the shit out of me.

“No,” she says. “You won’t let anything happen to me… plus… the worst already has.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I didn’t get to Vegas when you first met me because my life was easy,” Vickie says. Her breath feels so warm on my chest. Vickie’s soft cheeks press into me and my hand rests idly on her ass. We have ten minutes. Not enough time for what I want to do with this woman butfuckI want to do things to her.

“If there’s anyone left who hurt you once I’m done here… I’ll take care of them. Just as a thank you for helping me get my daughter back.”

She never questioned our mission. Never once. I like that about Vickie, even if her uncertainty about me gives me the strong impulse to control her.

Vickie doesn’t seem at all nervous, which makes me worry more. I don’t want her to do anything crazy and as we get ready to leave, I review our plan several times. Since we’re paying off my debts, I doubt the bikers we’re meeting up with will give acrap about who they get the money from. We just need a body standing there.

Not like Vickie is just a body. She wants to help. But she made herself clear — this isn’t for me, this is because of Waverly. Whatever. I don’t care why she’s doing this. It just feels nice not to have her screaming her head off about my screwups. It makes it easier to think.

We park our bikes at the meetup about a half mile away from the park. My brothers have completely overdone it with the weapons. Ethan has a rifle, a pistol, and a revolver, plus a knife strapped to his ankle. Wyatt has a shotgun, a rifle and a pistol. They brought backup, which I appreciate, even if I question the capacity of a new recruit to handle a job as important as this one.

“I don’t like the idea of giving them money and letting them fuck off,” Ethan reiterates. “They kidnapped one of ours…”

“That’s the problem with gambling,” Wyatt says, parroting the new philosophy that he says keeps him clean and sober from blowing all his cash on card games and dominoes. “You can lose everything if you’re not careful.”

“He swears this wasn’t a gambling debt,” Ethan says, looking at me with disbelief, while taking my side verbally. “What if he isn’t lying?”

“He’s a gambler,” Wyatt says. “Gamblers lie.”

Vickie looks up at me, but she’s quiet. The collar still tight around her neck. She still doesn’t like it, but since the news about Waverly, she hasn’t fussed or fought about it. Just watching her like this gets me inappropriately aroused.

“I’m not lying. But it doesn’t matter. We give them the money and get the fuck out. Wyatt is right. We have big enough problems with the Midnight SS.”

Ethan grunts. “I’m missing a Fantasy football?—

“Shut up,” Wyatt interrupts. “Give the money to Owen. He’ll take the girl and approach the West Entrance, splitting up right about where they’re likely to have someone standing watch.”

Ethan unwraps a duffel bag from the pack on the back of his bike. It doesn’t look that heavy, but he grunts when lifting it. Once I feel the weight, I know it’s the exact amount. I’ve done enough work for the club to have an estimate of the different weights large amounts of cash hold.

“If it’s a debt, it’s a debt. We’re just standing by to make sure there’s no funny business.”

“I don’t want Vickie in danger,” I remind them.

“Neither do we,” Wyatt says calmly. I hold my breath for whatever hurtful comment will inevitably fly out of my brother’s mouth. “But she’ll be in a lot less danger than that deranged macaw you knocked up seven years ago.”

I’m not in the mood to defend Kaylee-Marie from my brothers’ digs this time. I just want to get my daughter back.

“Let’s get Waverly back so I can get the fuck out of here.”

Vickie moves closer to me and my chest throbs. If I didn’t know any better, I would say she wanted to comfort me. Maybe I have it all wrong and my brothers just scare the crap out of her. That would make just about as much sense.

“You’d better not take her back to that dump,” Ethan says. Wyatt shoots him a sharp ass “not now” glare. Vickie can’t help her facial expression. She clearly agrees with Ethan. My body tenses. I don’t want to send Waverly back there. But if I don’t… if I keep her too long, Kaylee-Marie could get the courts involved.

I don’t want to lose my daughter forever.

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