Page 37 of Her Possessive Bikers

"Blood and guts never bothered me," she says with a shrug. "Plus, I like the adrenaline rush. Desk jobs aren't my style."

"Just like your old man," I say, remembering how Brick could never sit still for club paperwork.

Snake leans forward. "You see some crazy shit out there?"

"Oh you have no idea." Her eyes sparkle with mischief. "Though there was this one call where a guy got his dick stuck in-"

"Maybe not during dinner," I cut in, though I can't help smiling. The tension in the room eases as a few chuckles break out.

"You got ink?" Ripper asks, gesturing to where her jacket has slipped, revealing part of a tattoo on her shoulder.

She pulls back the leather, showing a detailed anatomical heart. "Few pieces. This one's my favorite though - got it when I finished my certification."

"Beautiful work," I say, admiring how the shading creates depth. My fingers itch to trace the lines, but I keep my hands firmly on my beer.

"You ride at all?" Tank asks.

"Not yet. Dad always promised to teach me but..." She trails off, pushing food around her plate.

"I could show you sometime," Tank offers quickly.

Jacoby clears his throat from across the table. "Already got that handled, thanks for your… eagerness, Tank. He says snidely. If this was a pissing contest, Jacoby just cocked his leg and marked Indy.

Through the haze of cigarette smoke and dinner conversation, I watch Indy lean towards Kyler. Her fingers brush his arm, right where I know those fresh stitches are healing.

"How are those wounds feeling? Any pulling when you move?"

The kid's whole demeanor changes. His usual brooding expression melts away, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. Christ, she's got him too.

"Actually feeling pretty good. You did an amazing job with the stitches." He rolls his shoulder, demonstrating. "Barely notice them now."

"Let me take a look later, make sure there's no infection," she says, and I swear Kyler practically preens under her attention.

"Yeah, of course. Whatever you think is best." His voice has that eager-puppy tone I've never heard from him before.

I take a long pull from my beer, watching how Kyler hangs on her every word as she explains proper wound care. His eyes never leave her face, like she's speaking gospel truth. It's thesame look I've seen on Jacoby, the same one I probably wear myself when she's around.

Brick would be laughing his ass off right now, watching his baby girl turn three of his toughest brothers into lovesick teenagers without even trying.

Jesus, we're all so fucked.

The conversation drifts to safer topics - her favorite bands, stories about Alabama, medical horror stories that have half the table groaning. Through it all, I notice how naturally she fits here, like she's always belonged at this table.

Just like her father did.

23

KYLER

The clubhouse has quieted down, most of the brothers either passed out or gone home. My footsteps echo through the empty hallway as I climb the stairs to Indy's room. That Crystal bitch at dinner was brutal - typical club behavior, but Indy doesn't deserve that shit.

I pause outside her door, running a hand through my loose hair. My knuckles hover over the wood before I finally knock.

"Come in," Indy calls out.

She's curled up on the bed in sweats and an old Al's body shop t-shirt that must have been Brick's - it hangs off one shoulder. The TV flickers, casting blue shadows across her face.

"Hey. Just wanted to check if you're okay after..." I gesture vaguely. "You know."

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