Page 47 of Single Mom's Bikers

I laugh. “You’re not far from the truth, but to be fair, I do cook their catches. So, I’m not completely useless. What did you have in mind? For your tattoo.”

She hands me back my phone and pulls hers out to show me a simple design—a constellation pattern similar to one of Evie’s pieces, but with different stars.

“Meaningful coordinates?” I ask, already sketching variations.

“Something like that. Mind if we start today?”

I’m setting up my machine when Draven bursts in, tension rolling off him in waves. Even in crisis mode, he cuts an impressive figure—our ex-military friend never quite lost that soldier’s bearing.

“We’ve got trouble at The Den,” he announces without preamble.

“When don’t we?” But I notice how his eyes catch on Rose, lingering a moment too long.

“Basement’s flooding. Sarah’s handling crowd control, but…” He runs a hand through his dark hair. “We need owner approval for repairs.”

I sigh. The bar and restaurant were Rick’s idea—legitimate businesses to launder club money through. But none of us brothers wanted the daily headaches of running them. Tank knew what he was doing when he brought Draven in fresh from his discharge. Man’s been managing our ventures ever since.

“That’s why we pay you the big bucks,” I remind him. “To handle this stuff.”

“Yeah, well, yourhands-offapproach is biting us today. Where’s Rick?”

“Club business.” I turn back to my setup. “Forward the paperwork, and he’ll sign when he’s back.”

Draven notices Rose then, really notices her. Something shifts in his expression. “Sorry for interrupting. I didn’t realize you had a client.” Then he takes a close look at her.

“Morning.” Her voice comes out softer than usual. Interesting.

Draven straightens. “Rose, right? Evie’s friend? You look almost unrecognizable.”

“And you’re Draven.” She tucks hair behind her ear—a nervous gesture I’ve never seen from her. “Owen’s father.”

The way they’re looking at each other makes me feel like I’m intruding in my own gallery.

“I am—the lucky dad.” He moves closer, studying my sketch. “That’s beautiful work. Orion’s Belt?”

“Good eye.” She sounds impressed. “Most people don’t recognize constellations.”

“Did a lot of navigation training in the service. Stars were reliable friends on long nights.”

I pretend to focus on my machine while they talk. There’s something happening here—the tough guy who helps run our MC and this mysterious woman who appeared in town with Evie.

“How long have you known Evie?” Draven asks casually.

Rose’s smile dims slightly. “Met her at a difficult time. Sometimes people just…connect, you know?”

“Yeah.” His voice softens. “Tank used to say that about the club. Right people find each other when they need it most.”

“Who’s Tank?”

“An old friend. We lost him years ago.”

Tank was the president of the Black Wolves Club, which Teller now leads. He died a long time ago, but we haven’t forgotten him, especially because he left behind a pregnant wife—Jamie. He introduced Draven to us and said he was the perfect man to manage our businesses.

“It sounds like he was a great guy.”

The basement alarm on Draven’s phone starts beeping. “He was…” He sighs. “Duty calls.”

“Always does.”

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