Page 67 of Claimed By the Biker Brothers

“You were right, Samson and Shay are super cool. They even trusted me to open the bar today all on my own,” Ellie says. She’s wearing the black clubhouse tee with the Riders logo sewn across the chest. “You look great, by the way. Well-rested.”

“To my own surprise, yeah. The bed upstairs is ridiculously comfy,” I say, giving Kyra a quick glance. “You want pancakes?”

“Yes, please! With maple syrup, please!”

“One big round of pancakes coming up!” Ellie laughs as she types the order into the computer. A split second later, I hear a printer beeping in the kitchen behind her.

Sal, one of the chefs, pokes his head through the door, giving the three of us a wry smile. “Ladies, would you like some blueberries to go with those pancakes?”

“And raspberries?” Krya replies, giving Sal a hopeful look. He’s absolutely enraptured with Kyra and her charming personality, so there’s no way he’ll ever let her down.

“I’ve got the frozen ones. I’ll put them in the pancakes,” he says, then disappears back inside the kitchen. A delicate fragrance of fried eggs and simmering bacon reaches my nostrils, making my mouth water.

The pregnancy cravings have gotten stronger and increasingly more difficult to contain. I keep contemplating the issue, looking for the right moment to tell the guys, but there’s so much pressure on their shoulders these days—there are fears of a DEA raid, eyes on the clubhouse from every possible angle, and Marlo’s drug business taking off again. They have their hands full and then some.

“In the meantime, here’s a vanilla babyccino to keep you warm,” Ellie says as she places a kiddie cup in front of Kyra.

That will keep her busy until the pancakes get here along with an interactive learning app on my wireless tablet. This device has been heaven-sent for those on-the-go moments.

“Seriously, though,” Ellie says, leaning in. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay. Grinding as usual: work, Kyra, the guys… It’s pretty much all I can do right now, you know? I’ve got at least two Riders tailing me all the time. There are guys watching the school too. Security is super tight around the clubhouse.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Ellie says. “I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee. Do you want some?”

“Do you have anything decaf?”

She gives me a long, curious look, and I suddenly feel like a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming truck. “Decaf? Seriously?”

“I’m already jittery on account of all this stress. Caffeine will just make it worse.”

“Yeah, I’ve got decaf.”

A few moments later Kyra and I both dig into our plates of blueberry and raspberry pancakes. They’re fluffy and drowned in maple syrup, just the way I like them, with a side of bacon. Kyra is fully immersed in the show on her tablet while stuffing her face with pancakes, so she pays no attention to us.

“You doing okay?” Ellie asks me again, quietly.

“I’m getting a déjà vu feeling here. Didn’t I answer that already?”

“There’s something different about you. Can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’m worried,” she says. “Have you seen Calvin since he and Marlo dropped in?”

I shake my head slowly, glancing to make sure my daughter is still occupied. “No, it’s been quiet in that sense too. His lawyers haven’t made a move in court either. The restraining order is still valid, and I have full custody. There’s nothing he can do on that front. If anything, his association with the Hughes clan won’t look good in family court, so I’m pretty confident I can fight off any legal attempt he might fling at me.”

“It’s pretty tense around here,” Ellie says, lowering her voice.

I look around again. The few Riders present are busy drinking coffee and eating fried eggs at corner tables out of earshot. I can hear Shay in the storage room, arguing over the phone with her boyfriend as usual. But most of what I’m seeing is normal.

“What do you mean?” I ask Ellie.

“The guys, Samson… they’re always in meetings, whispering. What’s going on, Robyn? They won’t tell me anything. They say just to follow the emergency protocol if any of the club members ask me.”

“What’s the emergency protocol?”

She gives me a hard look. “Shut the place down. There’s a panic button behind the counter. Once I press it, the stainless-steel shutters come down. Every window and door will be secured. The sheriff’s department will be instantly alerted. I and every person in here will go into the storage room, which doubles as a panic room, according to Shay. Robyn, what did I get myself into?”

“You didn’t get yourself into anything,” I say as way to reassure her. “It’s just a security measure. I doubt you’ll ever have to use it. They simply had to tell you about it now that you’re a clubhouse employee, I guess.”

“It didn’t sound like that at all,” she says. “Listen, I need this job, but I might as well find something else, somewhere safer if I just walked into some kind of gang war here.”

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