Page 43 of Q: Satan's Fury MC

“Yeah, that’ll work.”

“Great. Let’s roll.”

“Give me a minute.” I rushed to the bedroom to grab my things, but all I could find were my boots. “Where are my clothes?”

“I put them in the wash. You can grab them when we get back.”

“Okay.”

Without any further delay, I grabbed my purse and boots, then followed Q out to my car. We were about to get in when he asked, “Mind if I drive?”

“By all means.”

He smiled as he got in and started the car. Even though my mind was riddled with questions, I remained silent as he drove me over to my apartment. When he pulled up to the front entrance, I reached for the door handle and said, “I’ll be right back.”

“You might wanna grab a coat while you’re up there.”

“Okay. No problem.”

With my boots in hand, I ran up the steps to my front door. I rushed inside and quickly peeled off Q’s sweatpants, then slipped on a pair of skinny jeans and my black, lace-up boots. I considered changing out of Q’s hoodie but decided against it. I not only liked how it fit and looked, but also how I felt wearing it. I just hoped that Q wouldn’t mind that I’d kept it on.

I took a moment to put on a little makeup and adjusted my hair, and then, I grabbed my jacket and headed back down to the car. As soon as I got in, Q asked, “You all set?”

“Yeah, I’m good to go.”

“Alright then. Let’s do this.”

Without any further hesitation, he pulled out of the parking lot and started driving downtown. As I sat there in that car next to him, I was riddled with doubts. I’d already proven that I had the world’s worst taste in men, but I couldn’t help but think that Q wasn’t so bad.

At first, I thought he was a little overzealous with his initial greeting. In fact, I thought he was a bit of an ass, especially when I was churning butter, but now, I realized that was just Q. He was a rough, tough biker with a goofy, flirty side. He was also compassionate and kind which was something I hadn’t expected from a man like him.

I had no idea what he had planned for our afternoon, but I had a feeling it would be just like our other encounters—memorable.

I’d been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t realized where we were going until we pulled through the gate at the Satan’s Fury clubhouse. I had no idea why he’d taken me there, so I asked, “Umm... What’s going on? Why are we here? And don’t give me any of that ‘you’ll see’ business.”

“If I told you, it would ruin the surprise.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“We’re not staying. Just came to get my bike.”

“Wait.” I could feel my throat tighten as I asked, “We’re going to take a ride on your motorcycle?”

“That’s the plan.”

“But I’ve never ridden before.”

“I know. That’s the point.”

Once he’d parked the car, he got out and walked over to a big, black Harley with a chrome tailpipe. I just sat there and watched as he kicked his leg over the seat and sat down. He started the engine, then shouted, “Are you coming or what?”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” I let out a little groan as I opened the door and got out of the car. As I put on my jacket, I asked, “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely.” He waited as I made my way over to him, then added, “If you don’t like it, then I’ll bring you right back and that’ll be that. But you’re gonna like it.”

“You sound pretty confident.”

“Because I am.” He handed me a helmet as he added, “You just have to be brave enough to try. You think you can handle that?”

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