Page 126 of What Lies Within

Fuck—as I settle Rae between my legs, ass on the tabletop while she perches on the seat below—it occurs to me how fucking busy our goddamn calendar will be over the Christmas period. We head out for the rally tomorrow; then there'sBuster's potential ceremony, Christmas itself, the usual charity drives we do to keep up PR, and then the formalities of a new year: planning for the coming months, re-voting on positions, evaluating existing memberships, figuring out what projects we need to complete to keep up maintenance on the clubhouse.

And all that before we touch on the fucking contracts and obligations of our lifestyle.

“You want to share what’s got you stuck in your head?” Rae tips her head back, resting it on my inner thigh.

I stroke the strands of her hair caught on the chilly breeze away from her eyes. “Kind of worry that we didn't warn you enough about what it'll mean to be an old lady before we put that choice on you."

She sighs, flattening her lips. “Digger.”

“What?” I shrug. “It’s a valid concern.”

"Are you telling me you're scared I'll leave you?" She twists between my legs, setting an elbow to one.

“Nope. This is me tellin’ you that I’m worried you’ll freak out when you realize how big of a workload you get as an old lady.”

"Maybe I like being busy." She gives me a sassy look and spins back to face the gate. "Don't confuse how I am one week of the month with how I am always."

“Never said I did.” I crunch forward and set a kiss to her temple. “Just want you happy, baby girl. Not overwhelmed.”

“I am happy.” Her cool palm slides to capture my cheek. “Youmake me happy. Tyke makes me happy.Thismakes me happy.”

“Yeah?” I drag my bottom lip along the shell of her ear.

She shudders, grinning a little before breathing, “Yeah.”

Buster rises from the stool he leans against, shoulders straightening as the distinct rumble of multiple engines steals the moment. Usually, I'd give Tyke shit for taking the limelight, but today? Yeah, I'm as content for him to take the spotlight today as the woman jerking forward on the seat beneath me.

“Is that…?”

“Away you go, baby girl.” I give her ass a firm smack after she rises to her feet. “Go show your man how happy you are to see him.”

50

TYKE

By the time I swing our procession around and turn into the yard, Buster has the gate rolled most of the way open. The echo of growling engines never fails to warm my heart, the sound of men bound by honor and a shared code moving in unison, united furthermore by a common love—the humble motorcycle.

My first ride was a glitchy little two-stroke my old man had saved from the scrap heap. Damn thing never started on the first kick, let alone the tenth, and the throttle stuck more often than it didn’t, but it taught me how to trust my instinct.

An instinct I relied on today. An instinct that gives me a deep-seated sense of right in the world when I spot Rae running across the yard to meet me.

I bring my bike to a standstill, kick out the stand, and lean back to watch the rest of the men ride in via my mirrors. Kane pulls up next, Viking aligning himself to his left, then Rigs hard right to make way for Hammer as he maneuvers the crash van to its designated spot.

I wait until everyone is home safe and where they ought to be before I allow my quickened heart the luxury of turning toward the woman patiently waiting at my side.

My woman. No.Ourwoman.

She’sourwoman in more ways than one. She belongs to Digger and me, but she's also proved herself to be a woman for the club. Shit. I was damn near set on my ass when Connor told me she'd asked him to keep watch.

Raven hair flicking about her delicate jaw, Rae is a fucking vision. She hugs herself, hands rubbing her biceps while a shy smile plays across her lips. I note Digger, waiting respectfully near the tables while I find it in me to set about the chain of events that have railed through my mind the whole fucking ride here.

“You’re okay,” Rae says softly, breaking the awkward fucking silence I seem hell-bent on creating.

I slide my helmet off and rest it on the bars. “I am, baby girl. Yeah.”

“Is he…?”

“Not your problem anymore.” I swing my leg over and then turn to face her. “And not mine, either.”

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