Page 56 of Claimed By the Biker Brothers

“We’re just dealing with a few things,” Samson grumbles. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

“I really want to believe you,” I say with a bitter laugh. “But I can’t. Not when Knox, Diesel, and Jagger keep feeding me the same line. ‘There’s nothing for me to worry about.’ Yet the whole town is talking about drug runners and the DEA coming around… what’s going on? If any of it involves my ex-husband, I deserve to know.”

“We’ve got a handle on it, that’s all I can tell you,” Samson replies. “I do have some good news, though. We’re gonna give Ellie a shot behind the bar, but you’re gonna have to talk to her and work out some hours so you’re not left without a babysitter.”

My heart leaps with joy. “Oh, that’s such relief,” I tell him. “You’re making the right choice, I assure you. Ellie is loyal. She’s a hard worker. You’re going to love her.”

“I’m thinking she should handle most of the morning shifts, right?”

“Yeah, that should be good.”

Samson nods slowly, a gentle smile stretching across his face. “It may not seem like it now, but I think things are finally falling into place.”

“What do you mean?”

“You and the guys, first and foremost. That was a long time coming.”

I give him a startled, confused look. “I… Samson…”

“I told you not to worry about us Riders knowing,” he says. “We’re family, Robyn. We protect each other. We’re there for you through thick and thin. I’m just saying, I’m glad it’s working between the four of you. I think you’re exactly what you need for one another.”

I shrug softly. “I’m not sure how it will work in the long term.”

“And I’m pretty sure we’ve already had this conversation.”

“Yeah, but things are different. There are certain aspects we never took into account, and then there’s Calvin finally showing up… it feels like the final nail in the coffin. If I could just—” I pause as I hear the clubhouse door open, the bell above chiming. I turn around and freeze in my seat. “Marlo. What the hell is she doing here?”

Samson grunts and follows my gaze. The entire atmosphere in the clubhouse has changed. The air feels heavy. Dirty and thick. Her presence has turned everything upside down, and every Rider in this place is now on edge, their shoulders squared and fists tightening until the knuckles turn white.

“For fuck’s sake,” Samson mutters.

Marlo looks downright sunny, smiling and nodding at everyone in sight as she takes off her grey tweed overcoat and leaves it on the coat rack behind the door. Outside, I see Calvin waiting by the car on the side of the road. At least he’s keeping his distance, even though he’s off by several yards at least.

“Hey, Samson,” Marlo says. “You look good.”

“And you look like you’re about to sell me some Tupperware,” he hits back. “What are you doing here, Marlo?”

He sounds hostile. I feel like I’m missing something. There are bits and pieces of the puzzle I don’t quite understand, but I get the sense of muted violence, of the promise of much pain and suffering at her hands.

“I need to talk to Knox,” Marlo says.

I keep staring at her. Samson huffs and gets off the bar stool, then gingerly takes me by the arm and escorts me around the bar.

“What are you doing?” I ask him, genuinely confused.

“You can’t be here for this,” he says.

Marlo keeps smiling, watching as I’m pulled into the dark corridor leading toward the back door.

“Samson!” I insist, but he ignores me completely. Instead, he gives Shay a quick but heavy-toned order.

“Get Knox, Jagger, and Diesel down here. Marlo wants to talk.”

“Sure thing, Sam.”

“What the hell is going on here?” I croak.

“Let me handle this,” he says, his grip on my arm tightening as we go through the back door.

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