Page 55 of Claimed By the Biker Brothers

“What the fuck are you so jolly about?” Diesel asks for the both of us. “Marlo didn’t give us anything in there.”

“Oh, she gave us something,” Knox says.

“Enlighten me,” I reply.

“She didn’t even deny involvement in drug runs. She mentioned our legitimacy, our decision to keep the club on the straight and narrow, but up until not that long ago, Marlo was making herself out to be more or less the same, an honest businesswoman, a pillar of the community.”

I exhale sharply. “Not a word of that today.”

“Precisely. And of course she wasn’t going to give up Harlan. Why should she? I’m willing to bet Marlo’s involved with that incident somehow. Either she was buying that dope, or she was having it transported from one of her partners in California,” Knox says. “In fact, I’m going to raise it. I’m almost positive she’s looking to rebuild the drug running routes, and she’ll be more than happy to see the Riders burned down in the process.”

Diesel nods slowly. “Where does Calvin fit into the picture?”

“Carrion. He’s out of prison. Dirt poor. Humiliated. Itching to get back into the game and likely shares her desire to destroy the MC,” Knox suggests. “They’ve got plenty in common to make the partnership work. On top of that, Calvin has inside knowledge of the club, our creed, and operations, of how we run things. He’s useful to her, for now anyway.”

“And she’s got the money he needs to be the badass drug lord he’s always wanted to be,” I mutter. “That’s a match made in heaven.”

“It doesn’t bring us anywhere closer to Harlan,” Diesel says.

“No, but it does tell us more about who our enemies are,” Knox says. “There’s a reason Marlo keeps booking her nail sessions with Robyn and why Calvin waited over a month to approach her. They’re working up to something, and we need to figure out what sooner rather than later.”

I don’t like this one bit.

The vultures are circling. Someone smelled fresh blood, and now…

They’re out to get us.

17

Robyn

Aweek has passed since I’ve confirmed my pregnancy, and I have yet to find the courage or the right moment to tell the guys about it. Frankly, I’m still wrapping my head around the whole thing, watching as Redwood shudders under the shadow of an old threat.

But at least I’ve found comfort in the clubhouse again. I’ve been going there more and more when I have time and Ellie is watching Kyra. Tonight, it seems emptier than usual.

“Where is everybody?” I ask Samson as I walk in and stop by the bar.

He takes a seat next to me. “It’s Monday. What did you expect?”

“Ah, fair enough.”

“Hey, Robyn,” Shay says, greeting me with a warm smile. He holds up a bottle of whiskey. “How about a double? On the house.”

“Oh, no, thank you. Just a Diet Coke, if you don’t mind.” I pause and show Samson my car keys. “I’m driving.”

He nods slowly, one eye on his glass as Shay fills it to the brim. “How’s the kiddo these days? How’s she holding up?”

“She doesn’t know about Calvin, and I plan on keeping it that way for as long as possible,” I say. “I’ve got enough on my plate already.”

I’m pregnant. Working hard day in and day out while raising my daughter and constantly fearing the return of a monster. While I find safety and ecstasy in the arms of my men, I worry that it’s impermanent, that with the slightest jolt, it will all vanish into thin air and be as if it never existed.

“Besides, Kyra doesn’t need to know about Calvin,” I add with a heavy sigh. “He’s not allowed to come anywhere near us.”

“I get it. Honestly, I do,” Samson says. “And I can’t blame you either.”

“How about you, Samson? How is everything?”

That’s the million-dollar question clearly. Even Shay steps back and pretends to get busy behind the bar in order to avoid answering me. I look around again and I notice the tension, the fleeting glances of concern club members give one another. Even the music from the jukebox doesn’t sound as smooth as it used to. Something is going down here.

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