Page 67 of Beautifully Reckless

“Ringo. I can’t get on a motorcycle. I’m pregnant.”

Ignoring her, I brush her pink strands off her face and fit the helmet onto her head.

“I know you’re pregnant, Abs. Doesn’t mean you can’t ride on the back of my bike.”

“But they’re so dangerous…” she murmurs, eyes darting to my ride as I fasten the helmet and pass her the bag.

“Put it on.”

She slips it on quickly, and I turn just in time to catch the pair of leather pants JD throws me. Kneeling, I slip them over Abbey’s feet, dragging them over the maternity gym pants Andrea gave her.

She’s dead quiet while I get her ready, and when I’m done, I realise she’s trembling.

“Abs, look at me.” I grip either side of her helmet gently, locking eyes through the open visor. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear I’m a fucking safe rider. I’d never put you or your baby at risk if I wasn’t sure I could keep you both safe.”

“Where are we going?” she whispers, eyes flicking back to my hog, even though she’s clearly not convinced.

“We’re going home, Angel. My home.”

“Gotta go, man. Pigs are on the move.” JD cuts in, and that’s all it takes to have Abbey hurrying to get on my bike.

I’ve had Jols on the back of my bike a couple times. Kylie, too. But Abbey? Fuck. There’s something about having her pressed up behind me, her arms locked tight around my waist, fingers digging into my abs, that makes me feel like a real fucking man.

I go over the basics with her. Where to hold me. How to lean with me. And to never fucking let go.

Thank fuck her bump isn’t too big yet, or this would be a helluva lot harder.

A minute later, we’re tearing through the streets of Melbourne, Abbey’s grip tight as hell as we ride. Not that I give a shit if she draws blood. Having her behind me like this is fucking everything.

I’m on edge the whole ride through the city, sure there will be a police blockade waiting around every fucking corner, but within minutes, we hit the freeway heading east, the city fading behind us.

We don’t encounter any problems as we head towards the Dandenong Ranges. As time ticks by and the countryside opens up, Abbey’s hold starts to relax, and at some point, she rests her helmet-covered head against my back.

Even though I can’t see her, I can feel her easing into the experience, starting to enjoy the ride.

The freedom of it is fucking epic. The life I’ve carved out for myself isn’t just about the club and the brotherhood.

It’s my hog. The wind tearing past my face. The raw, wild feeling of flying down the road, weaving between cars, heading straight into the sunset.

Fucking poetic, aren’t I?

The fresh scent of gum trees and grass has nostalgia wrapping itself around me, making me even more desperate to get home. To see my ma. My sisters. Even the ducks, and just fucking breathe.

A little over an hour out of the city, we wind along dusty roads and thick bushland. My eyes track the hidden CCTV camerasI installed. I don’t technically own this road, but the other locals don’t care. They let me set up cameras and I pay them to keep watch.

No one slips past them. Not with how they look out for my ma and sisters like they are their own.

Why would they do that?

Money of course. I take care of them.

When Old Joe’s brother needed round-the-clock care, I fucking paid for it.

When Darcy next door couldn’t afford more IVF rounds, I covered it.

When Andrew and Paul couldn’t find a celebrant willing to marry them, I fucking found one.

I look after them, and they look out for what’s mine. It’s a win-win.

---