Page 7 of Sparrow

“I love you, Sparrow,” he said as he squeezed her fingers. “I want to make you my Ol’ Lady. Like we talked about. It’s just going to be rough for a little bit longer. I’m sorry. I really—I’ll do better. It won’t happen again. I’m just trying to earn us stable so I can take care of you.” He took a breath as he pressed his forehead against hers. “They’re gonna keep testing me. They have to make sure I’m loyal and that I put the club first.”

She nodded, well aware of the process. She’d been around the club her whole life. They had their hierarchy, prospects were the lowest, then members, and then officers. He’d barely gotten his member patch. She didn’t doubt most still thought of him as a prospect. Hell, Tut was probably still pissed about Pipes beating his ass while he was sponsoring him.

They weren’t known to forgive and forget. Tut, especially, held grudges.

“Yeah, I know,” she croaked a whisper. She just wanted to be done with it. There wasn’t any other answer.

“It’ll get better. I promise.”

“I know,” she lied. She forced a smile and tried to believe it. If she said it out loud, it’d come true. Right?

He was a good guy. He’d always been a good guy before. Stress changed people. Prospecting a club was the most stressful thing she’d ever seen, and he’d just barely gotten past that part. He was a new member. She could give him this one pass. Give him time to settle in, get used to his patch.

Chapter 4

Sparrow

After hours of riding through Ohio’s Amish communities, Pipes stopped the bike on the side of the road in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. The sky darkening slightly as dusk set in, he cut the engine.

“You up for a little walk?” he asked, offering his profile as his hand slid up and down Sparrow’s thigh.

Glancing around the trees and farmland, she drew her eyebrows together. “Are we out of gas?”

He chuckled, offering her a gentle pat to her thigh. “Got plenty.”

“Where are we gonna go?” she asked as her stomach fluttered nervously. Sparrow wasn’t exactly the outdoorsy type. The last time she’d been camping it was for Wetzelland as a kid. She never gone back since her father passed.

“You’ll see,” he said, urging her off the bike. “It’s a surprise.”

Frowning, she pulled an orange flavored Tootsie Pop from her pocket, peeled the wrapper down, and stuffed it in her mouth, demonstrating her annoyance. She had zero desire to hike—at night. She didn’t even have the proper shoes for that. Motorcycle boots weren’t meant for all terrain.

Once they’d both dismounted the bike, he reached for her hand. Their fingers interlaced, and her grumping ceased. A smile spread on her lips when he tugged her against his body. “It’s not a far walk,” he said as he pointed. “Tranquil Valley Lake is just down there.” He gestured ahead of them before he slid his hand into his pocket. “This should take the edge off,” he said as he pulled a small baggie of joints from his leather jacket.

Tucking her head against his side, she smirked. “That does make the outdoors a lot more palatable.”

Tingles radiated throughout her body. Her toes itched against her socks. Her bra grated against her nipples. The seam of her jeans sat perfectly against her cleft as she straddled Pipes, grinding against him.

Just a little bit more pressure and she could…

She held the final inhale of the second joint in her lungs, letting the burn ripple through her. The desire to peel off her clothes and feel the night kiss her skin danced in her head as she turned to the side.

The rough callous of his hands felt electric as they slid under the hem of her shirt, pulling a groan of ecstasy from her. The red hot fire of his mouth against her neck had her shuddering against him. “Fucking Christ, what kind of weed is this?” she asked on her exhale.

Chuckling before he bit down, she again quivered against him. Her sensitive nipples begging to be freed from the bra holding them up. “It’s split,” he rasped before his tongue slid against her shoulder.

“What?” she asked as though her brain couldn’t compute his words.

“I laced them with coke,” he admitted as he peeled her shirt from her body. “It makes the high from weed better and the coke less intense, the best of both words,” he said as he peeled the cups of her bra down.

“Wha—” Her words were ripped from her throat—from her mind by heat and suction on her right nipple while the other was tweaked. “Fuck…” she gurgled as she resumed grinding against him.

Staring at the joint in her hand as she sat in the window of their apartment, she returned from the memory of their last date before introducing him to Bowie—before she got him involved with The Roughneck Riders.

Weed had been the hardest drug she’d ever used until that night. She’d never trusted him to smoke any of his weed again. Because of the way he dosed her, she never had an interest in cocaine, he’d left a bad taste in her mouth.

They’d had a beautiful date. They rode sweeps, hills, and twists. The food in the Amish country had been phenomenal. Then the lake. She closed her eyes and tucked the joint away. No. She didn’t need it. She didn’t want it.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, she turned and rested her cheek on them. Looking out the window, she sighed. He’d been sweet once. That was the last date they went on. He hadn’t taken her to so much as a movie since then.

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