Page 20 of Claimed By the Biker Brothers

“Is that right?” he asks,

All I can do is sigh while he takes a fork and splits the pie slice into two even pieces.

“She overheard teachers talking in the hallway,” I offer.

“You’re going to eat half of this,” Knox replies with incredible calm. I see the muscle ticking in his square jaw, but his gaze remains soft as it bounces between my daughter and me. “No ifs, ands, or buts.”

“I’m not hungry,” I insist, choosing to take a sip from my cinnamon milkshake instead.

“I wasn’t asking,” he shoots back. “Besides, you don’t eat pecan pie because you’re hungry.”

“You eat it because you love it,” Kyra says and giggles, working tirelessly on her slice.

Knox hands me a fork. “Dig in.”

“Knox…”

“You are not letting anyone or anything ruin these small but precious moments,” he says, peering deep into my soul. The scent of his cologne mingles with a whiff of gas and oil from his motorcycle, filling my lungs and getting me drunk on feelings I didn’t think I’d ever experience again. “Robyn, you’re safe. I’m here with you. And I’m asking you, please, enjoy your pie. Isn’t that right, Kyra?”

“That’s right!”

I can’t fight the two of them, so I take the fork and get to work but it doesn’t taste quite right. My appetite has been wonky over the past few days. I just don’t understand why Calvin hasn’t shown up at my doorstep or something; I’d assumed it would be his first move.

“See? Great pie.” Knox gives me a playful wink.

I can’t wait to leave the bedroom window slightly ajar tonight. It won’t be the first time he’s climbed up the lattice like a horny teenager. Luckily, Kyra is a heavy sleeper, and she knows to call out for me if she needs something.

“You’re right,” I tell him, then a thought crosses my mind. “I haven’t seen Paulie tailing us since the morning after you told me about Calvin. Is he okay?”

“Yeah, we’re having him comb through Redwood and the surrounding area with a couple of prospects, patrolling, so to speak,” Knox says.

“What for?”

“Just to keep an eye on things. There have been sightings, but I swear it’s like searching for Bigfoot or something,” he mutters.

“How is he, though, Paulie, with all of this?”

“I think he’s alright. It can’t be easy. They used to be thick as thieves. It broke his heart to turn his back on Calvin when it came down to the club, but Paulie doesn’t have any regrets on the matter. He never had them,” Knox says. “He understood that Calvin was in so deep, there was no pulling him back. And, at the end of the day, Paulie chose the Rogue Riders. He’s been a loyal member ever since.”

“You trust him?”

“He’s given us no reason not to.”

I nod slowly. “Yeah, I got the same vibe from him when we talked about Calvin. I feel sorry for him, truth be told.”

“Don’t feel sorry,” he says, then looks at Kyra. “The man made his bed, and now he has to sleep in it.”

“Except he’s not sleeping in it anymore; parole be damned,” I say with a sharp exhale.

“We’re still trying to figure out what happened. I asked our club lawyer to look into it. He agreed it was a tad too early for parole given the verdict and the sentencing,” Knox replies. “He said there shouldn’t have been any shot at parole within the first six years.”

“Maybe someone pulled some strings to get him out?”

“Or he cooperated with the Feds on something,” he surmises. “It’s a possibility.”

A different kind of worry starts gnawing through my stomach, and there’s not enough pecan pie in the world to soothe this feeling.

“Do you think he gave the Feds intel about the club?” I ask Knox, while keeping an eye on Kyra.

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