Page 43 of Rage's Heart

“So you’re the reason Rage hasn’t been around,” she said, not bothering with introductions.

I straightened my spine, meeting her gaze head-on. “I guess I am.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Listen, bi?—”

“Trixxxxxxie,” Foxy drug out her name, the warning clear not to start. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

The redhead’s jaw clenched, but after a moment, she turned on her bare feet and stalked off toward the clubhouse.

“Charming,” I muttered, taking another swig of my beer.

Foxy glanced at me thoughtfully, lowering her voice. “Look,” she sighed. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but you should know before you get too invested. My grandfather was a biker, my daddy was a biker, my brother runs this club. I’ve seen it all.”

I raised an eyebrow not sure where she was going with this. “And?”

“And bikers... they play by different rules.” She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “These men, they follow a code that’s all their own. They’ll die for their brothers, kill for their club, and…” she hesitated, “well, they don’t exactly view commitment the same way regular folks do.”

My stomach tightened. “Are you telling me Rage is going to cheat on me?”

“I’m telling you that most of these guys don’t see it as cheating,” she replied carefully. “It’s just how they are. They have their old ladies at home, and then they have their... entertainment at the clubhouse. Brothers don’t interfere with each other’s business. It’s how things work.”

I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. “And you’re okay with that?”

She shrugged, her eyes kind but realistic. “No. But I’m not with a biker either. Never will be either. I’m sorry, but I thought you should know what you’re getting into. You seem different, and I’m hoping Rage is different with you. But you deserve to know the truth.”

Before I could process that bombshell, Rage appeared at my side, his arm sliding possessively around my waist.

“Foxy giving you the third degree?” he asked.

“Just girl talk,” she replied smoothly, raising her beer in a mock toast.

Rage didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. “They’re setting up for corn hole. You wanna play?”

I forced a smile, pushing Foxy’s warning to the back of my mind to examine later. “Sure. But fair warning, I’m pretty good.”

His eyes lit up at the challenge. “That so? Well, then come show me whatcha got, baby.”

The game was set up on a flat section of the beach, just beyond the patio. Teams were quickly formed: me and Rage against Reign and Zero. Killer appointed himself referee, though it turned out it was just an excuse to heckle everyone.

“Ladies first,” Reign said with a wink, handing me the first bean bag.

I took my position at the end of the playing field, gauging the distance to the wooden board. With a flick of my wrist, I sent the bag sailing through the air, landing it dead center in the hole.

“Holy shit,“ Zero muttered, looking up from his phone for the first time.

Rage’s arm snaked around my waist as he pulled me back against him. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “Full of surprises.”

The pride in his voice made my cheeks flush. I couldn’t help but feel myself falling harder for him.

The game proceeded with plenty of trash talk and laughter. Rage was surprisingly good, sinking most of his shots with without even trying. By the time we were declared the winners, I was pleasantly buzzed from a few beers and the high of Rage’s constant attention.

“Another round?” He asked, his eyes dancing with amusement as Zero demanded a rematch.

I was about to agree when Chief shouted, “Food’s ready!”

Rage glanced down. “We’ll eat first.”

My stomach chose that moment to rumble, answering for me.

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