Page 48 of Biker Daddies

“No! Daddy, no. It isn’t anyone there. It was someone visiting. He’s gone now. It’s fine. He said things he obviously didn’t mean.”

It’s a slash across the chest when I hear those words. Why would we lie about anything we said? I meant everything I told her today.

“Then you’ll give me a name and we will make him pay, sugarplum. No one makes the Prez of the Venom Vultures’ daughter cry. No one.”

“I’d rather not waste any more time and energy on it. Please? Can’t we put on a scary movie and just have a movie night?” She wipes another tear from her cheek and I curl my fingers into my knees, wanting nothing more than to stand up and claim her.

I want to be the one that makes her feel better.

Me. That job is mine now.

“Well, there’s a real man coming here tomorrow, Harlow. And he’s looking forward to meeting you. He isn’t some boy who doesn’t know what he wants.”

She gives him a sad smile. “Okay.”

Our situation just got a lot worse, because I’ll kill the VP from this other club if he even thinks about laying a hand on her.

This can’t continue. Things are moving at a fast pace, but it seems we will have to move quicker if we don’t want to miss our window.

The “Property of” patches are a vow.

And I vow that I am one-hundred-percent owned by Harlow Montgomery.

12

COLT

We stayed at the clubhouse last night because Harlow did. She and Grizzly had a movie night—popcorn, junk food, the works. I had forgotten how close they were until I saw her snuggle into her dad’s shoulder as if he could protect her from the entire world.

We are so fucked because while he can’t protect her from the world, he can protect her from us.

I yawn as I make the coffee for the club. That’s the rule. First one awake has to brew the joe for the entire clubhouse. It’s a huge pot, one of those from a diner. I fill it with water and put so many scoops of coffee in I lose count. Hopefully it isn’t too strong.

Nothing a little Baileys can’t fix.

“Oh.” I hear a sweet voice from behind me.

The exhaustion disappears as I spin around and see Harlow standing there. She’s in baggy sweatpants. Her hair is up in a messy bun and she doesn’t have any makeup on. I can see the sleepiness still tinging her undereye, light shadows that will go away when she has her cup of coffee.

“You are beautiful,” I tell her without remorse, without lowering my voice.

Let someone hear me so they can hear the truth.

“Don’t,” she whispers, crossing her arms. “Don’t do that.”

“I think we all got off on the wrong foot.” I take a step forward and she takes a step back, not looking at me in the eyes.

I want her to. I miss her eyes. I miss how big and green they are. I miss how they become full of lust when they take one look at me.

“I think I understand you three just fine,” she whispers. “I already have an appointment to get the tattoos removed. It will be like it didn’t happen.”

I prowl forward, the spurt of coffee in the pot filling the tension in the air. I pin her against the counter, staring down at her while our bodies touch. Immediately, I have a reaction, and I know she does too. Her body tenses before the anger seeps from her and allows her to relax.

“The hell you are,” I growl, taking her wrists in my hands, pinning her so she can’t move. “You are mistaken about this, Harlow. This is not some sick joke or fling or whatever scenario you’ve conjured up in your head.”

Her nostrils flare at that statement and she tries to jerk away from me, causing a piece of red hair to fall from her bun to frame her face.

“You’re ours.” I lean down and whisper harshly, “And that fucking guy coming down from the other club won’t stand a fucking chance. If we have to, we will kill him. You’re ours and you are not getting those tattoos removed because so help me, Harlow, if you do, I’ll be dragging your ass back to that tattoo table.”

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