Page 12 of Frosty the Biker

“How much has your brother told you about our club?”

Damn, I didn’t want to get my brother in trouble, but then again, he hadn’t really told me anything. So, I was honest. “Not much at all.”

“Nothing about the uh… talents most of our members have?”

It was my turn to frown. “You mean like you’re a kickass tattoo artist?”

He grinned and shook his head. “I mean, yeah, but that’s not what I was referring to. I’m trusting you to keep this quiet. If you fuck up and run your mouth, you’ll force us to take care of the leak. You understand me?”

I nodded. I wasn’t completely oblivious of what some of the patches on his cut meant. No way did I want to end up on their bad side.

“A lot of my brothers are different and with that comes certain gifts and abilities.”

We were both quiet for a few moments while I mulled over what he said. “You mean like things like my visions?”

“And then some. Sure you don’t wanna join us?”

“I’m good. Really. I’m happy with just being a friend of the club,” I assured him.

“That’s fine. I won’t push it on you, but if you ever change your mind, I like you. I’d sponsor you if you decided to prospect,” he countered.

I’d started to watch that motorcycle club show everyone had been so crazy about, but I always fell asleep watching and couldn’t really get into it. Still, I wasn’t exactly sure what he was talking about. This was the first time I’d noticed the “vice president” tab on his cut, and I was sure his offer was an honor. “I appreciate that.”

“You want me to talk to Ryian? Maybe I can help a little,” he offered.

I inhaled deeply and let it out. “I appreciate the offer, but I think this needs to be handled between me and Ryian.”

“I can respect that.” From the look on his face, he approved of my reply. “See you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” I assured him.

He got to his feet and reached out a hand that had every finger tattooed. I shook it and we left the room. When I got back out to the common area, my brother glanced over his shoulder. Paint brush midair, his brows rose and he gave me a look that asked if everything was okay.

I gave a curt nod.

I was giving Ryian another day then I was reaching out again.

“ElasticHeart”—WrittenByWolves

Pushing that text from Dalton out of my head, I chewed on my lip as I thought about what to say. As if he could sense my turmoil, Anson stopped watching his show.

“Did that man in the store say anything to you?” I finally asked and he returned his attention to the blue dog on the TV.

“My dad,” he stated as his attention was zeroed in on the cartoon dog on the screen.

I gasped. My chest caved and my mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. After I coughed, I sputtered, “Did he tell you that?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know that?”

“I see him.”

“What?” By that time, I was so confused and a little concerned. Had Dalton been stalking us? Then I remembered the shock on his face. No, he had no idea. “Where do you see him?”

“Here,” he replied as he pointed a finger at his closed eye—as if that was nothing more than him saying he wanted soup for dinner.

I walked over and sat next to him on the couch. “What do you mean, Anson?” I asked him as I brushed his soft blond hair back off his forehead. Goosebumps skated over my skin.

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