Page 4 of Biker Daddies

“If not, you have to strip and run around the building,” Addison gives another option, which has me digging for my phone because I am not running around naked and becoming a headline for the University news.

When I grab my phone, I have to narrow my eyes to concentrate on my vision so I can see the screen.

“Fine, but if they get killed because Daddy finds out, blame yourself.”

“No one will find out,” Meredith drawls as if she’s pouting. “Ya big baby,” she grumbles.

I snort, creating a group chat with Alto, Bane, and Colt.

I name the chatMy Three Sexy Beasts.

I hold my breath while I type.

I just wsnated to letttt you knw, I fiinddd, you allllls sexxxy. So sexy. More than Jason Momoa. Lots more. I really like you in ways I’m not alloweddd. Don’tt tell dasdddy.

I press send, proud of myself for putting together a sentence.

And then I pass out, the alcohol winning the fight for my consciousness.

2

ALTO

“What the hell?” I try to read the message from Harlow, Prez’s daughter, but the more I try, the more confused I become. I notice Bane and Colt are in the message too. She added them to the chat, and I can’t be reading it right because there is no way Prez’s daughter would message us this.

I glance around the tattoo shop, making sure no one can see me look at my phone in question, especially Prez. If he found out Harlow messaged us this, he’d strip me of my title, burn my vest, and exile me from the club.

No one fucks with Harlow. Especially me, the Vice President. It’s one of the club rules. She’s off-limits and forbidden. Anyone who tries anything will probably end up dead. We all have one job when it comes to Harlow.

Protect her from a distance.

I set my phone down and stretch, trying to make the busy day leave my body. My client just left, and we had an eight-hour session for his back piece. It was intricate. A kitsune wrapped in a cherry blossom tree with lightning shooting across the sky. Something that took concentration and a steady hand. My back hurts. My eyes hurt. My fingers hurt.

But damn, I love my job.

“Hey,” Bane grunts from my doorway, leaning against it with his big body. He is massive and my tattoos cover his arms and neck, back, and legs. He’s covered. It’s one of the reasons why he is our Sergeant at Arms. No one dares to fuck him over. He has two nose rings and a tongue ring, a shaved head to show the tattoo I did on his scalp too and damn, the man reeks of trouble.

His outside matches his inside too. He is by far the grumpiest asshole I’ve ever come across.

“Did you get that text?” he asks, not specifying who it was from because I knew.

“I did. I found it odd.” It’s late. Nearly two in the morning. We’ve been closed since midnight, but I was so close to being done with the second session of my client’s back tattoo, I decided to keep going.

“Maybe she really does want us.”

I roll my eyes and sigh while Bane slaps the cocky, arrogant dumbass—Colt, our Road Captain. His outside matches his inside too. He is tall and lean, with green eyes that make girls fall over themselves to try and get a piece of pretty boy, as the club likes to call him when they’re in a teasing mood.

I crack my neck and groan. “Don’t even joke about something like that,” I say seriously. “Imagine what Grizzly would do to us? Don’t even put that out in the fucking universe, Colt.”

He lifts his hands in surrender, a stern look on his face as his lips pout. “I was only joking, Alto. I didn’t mean anything by it. I doubt she meant to send that to us. It isn’t like her.”

“She included all three of us. She knew exactly what she was doing. Little princess is trying to get us killed,” Bane practically growls. “I knew she’d be trouble.”

“You didn’t know shit.” I wipe down the seat my client was just in, disinfecting it from the sweat he poured while I dug into his skin with a needle.

“Prez can’t find out she messaged us,” Bane states. “I say we delete it and forget she ever messaged in the first place.”

“You’re a dick,” I tell him, tossing the paper towels in the trash.

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