Page 81 of Daddy Issues

His laugh rang out from the roof. “Brother, it’s about god-damn time you admitted that shit.”

At our bikes, I let myself enjoy the fact that she was mine. That there was actually someone out there I wanted to share my life with.

“Now make it official, before one of these horny fucks gets his ass beat for overstepping.”

I grinned big. “I sort of hope one of them does.”

“Me too, brother.” He winked and fired up his bike.

Nothing like a good brawl to get the blood pumping in the clubhouse. But he was right. I needed to make it official. Kenna deserved that.

***

Gunnar and Ivan arrived several hours before the big show. The giant diesel Ford truck rolled into the parking lot, pulling a hulking yellow machine on a trailer. Ivan, former president of White Pines, followed on his chrome Harley that glistened as much as his bald head.

An exuberant blond guy I didn’t know jumped from the passenger seat with a hoot that echoed across the desert. Camcaught him midair with a back slapping, hard as hell hug. Savage had always had stronger ties with other charters. It was these guys that would have voted his way had he decided to go NOMAD after Archer’s death.

I couldn’t help but snort a laugh, their joy contagious despite the serious nature of the day.

“You aren’t running this place yet?” Ivan climbed off his bike and was instantly caught in a headlock as Cam rapped his knuckles over the bald head.

“Nah, AP’s got this shit locked down.” He released Ivan with a shrug as Gunnar came around the front of the rig.

Cam lit a cigarette and grinned around a long drag as Ivan introduced us. “Cam, Puck, Drop Top, and for today’s shenanigans Band Aid and Pork Chop.”

Chop still sported a limp and some bruises but was still salivating for vengeance.

“This is the last prospect I sponsored at White Pines, Romeo, and you know Gunnar.”

Romeo was fitting, as he was as pretty, if not prettier, than Cam had been when he was younger. He shoved some hair behind his right ear and shook our hands.

Gunnar, the current White Pines President, approached with the slow, long strides of a man you didn’t want to fuck with. Definitely one I wanted on my side. He came to me first, with a firm handshake, gold winking at his nose and lip.

“Good to see you, brother.” He’d been in that room with me that night. What he said next wasn’t a shock. “How’s the fairy princess doing?”

“Oh, she’s just fine.” Cam waggled his eyebrows. “Our boy’s been takingreal goodcare of her.”

I cast him a sideways, bored glance. Gunnar watched me with interest.

“She’s doing good.” And I could say that honestly, she was. Whatever haunted her now had less to do with that night and more to do with life in general. At least I’d given her that much.

“Glad to hear it.”

Having that night rehashed was like being stabbed in the chest repeatedly. There was guilt, from what I’d done to what I’d wanted to…until lately. It got easier and easier to think about it. Even when I’d seen her on the side of my truck, fighting mad, I’d gone to a different place.

Less like I had to protect her, and more like I needed to protect themfromher. This shit was getting deep.

I followed Gunnar as he twisted his long hair back and climbed onto the flatbed trailer. Cam hopped up behind me to inspect the equipment.

“Looks like a tractor and a bulldozer had a baby.” Not that I knew anything about large equipment, save for Gunnar owned a lot of it.

“Basically. Caterpillar D2, she’ll do everything you’re planning and I can get it in and out quicker than a bigger one.” He smacked the track before hopping down and snatching the short machine gun from Romeo’s hand. “Who the fuck gave him an Uzi?”

“I’m not that bad of a shot.” Romeo winked at me as I hopped down.

Gunnar handed me the machine gun, and I checked its load and held it secure in my right hand. Not my favorite thing to hold. I’d rather get my hands dirty than mow down half the desert. But it was intimidating.

Drop Top was at the back of the old HVAC repair van, handing out hardware from a duffel bag that was as big as he was tall. One of Archer’s arsenals that Cam had stockpiled for the club. Unlike the pistol I’d wear on my belt, none of these would be traceable.

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