Page 36 of Her Possessive Bikers

But even as I say it, I know it’s not that simple. The funeral might be over, but there’s still so much left unsaid and undone.

I dry off quickly, toweling my hair until it’s only slightly damp. I run my fingers through the dark strands, untangling knots and letting it fall naturally over my shoulders. The red dress hangs on the closet door, a bold choice but one I’m making without hesitation. I want them to desire me like I desire them.

Sliding into the dress, it clings to my curves, accentuating every line and dip of my body. It’s simple but effective – the kind of dress that demands attention without trying too hard.I check myself in the mirror again, adjusting the neckline and smoothing out wrinkles. The red pops against my skin, making me feel powerful and confident.

I slip into a pair of black heels and grab a leather jacket from the closet – an homage to my dad and a bit of armor against whatever the night might bring. My heart races as I step out of the room and head downstairs.

There’s no point in pretending this is just about sorting through Dad’s things anymore. This place has always been more than just a memory – it’s home in a way Alabama never was.

22

TRES

The clubhouse dining room falls silent as Indy descends the stairs. My grip tightens around my beer bottle, watching her float down in that tight red dress that hugs every curve. Those fucking heels add an edge that's purely her - purely Brick's daughter. The black leather jacket draped over her shoulders is probably his too. She's dressed to fucking kill. She's got something up her sleeve, I just wish I knew what it was.

"Damn," Snake whispers from two seats down. "Didn't know we had an angel joining us for dinner."

I shoot him a look that could freeze hell. "Watch your mouth."

"Just appreciating the view, Prez," he mutters, but his eyes stay glued to her.

Indy takes the empty seat next to me, seemingly oblivious to the effect she's having on every man in the room. The candlelight catches the silver rings on her fingers as she reaches for a roll.

"Hope you boys saved me some food," she says, her voice light. "I've got quite the appetite."

"Plenty to go around, darlin'," Ripper calls from across the table, and I notice how he's straightened up, trying to catch her eye.

I clear my throat. "Pass the potatoes."

The bowl makes its way down, passed from hand to hand by brothers who suddenly can't stop finding reasons to lean closer to Indy's end of the table. My jaw clenches as I watch Tank deliberately brush his fingers against hers during the exchange.

"Thanks," she says, completely professional, but Tank grins like he's won the lottery.

I tap my glass with my knife, commanding attention. The din of conversation dies down as every eye turns to me. "Listen up. Got an announcement to make."

Indy shifts beside me, her fork pausing mid-bite. I rest my hands flat on the table, scanning the faces around me.

"Due to some complications with Dos Banditos, Indy will be staying here at the clubhouse until further notice. She's under our protection."

"Under your protection, you mean?" Crystal sneers from the end of the table, tossing her flea market extensions around. "Didn't take long for daddy's little princess to worm her way in, did it?"

The room temperature drops twenty degrees. My chair scrapes back as I stand, slow and deliberate. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Crystal's smirk falters as I lean forward, palms pressed against the wood. "That's O'Brien Cooper's daughter you're talking about. The man who built this club from nothing, who gave half of you ungrateful bitches a warm place to stay when no one else would."

My voice drops lower, deadlier. "If anyone - and I mean anyone - has a problem with Indy being here, there's the fucking door. Test me on this, I fucking dare you."

"But-" Crystal starts.

"No buts. Show some respect or get the fuck out. Your choice." I straighten up, letting my gaze sweep the room. "That goes for all of you. Indy's family. Anyone treats her otherwise, they answer to me. We clear?"

Murmurs of "Yes, Prez" ripple around the table. Crystal stares at her plate, face red.

I sit back down, picking up my fork like nothing happened. Under the table, Indy's knee brushes mine - whether by accident or on purpose, I'm not sure. But the contact sends electricity through my veins all the same.

The clinking of silverware fills the awkward silence until Tank clears his throat. "So, Indy, what made you choose paramedic work?"

I watch her dab her lips with a napkin, buying time to compose her answer. The candlelight catches the silver nose ring that somehow makes her look both innocent and dangerous at once.

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