Page 5 of Biker Daddies

Bane shrugs as if he doesn’t care, but his scarred mouth twitches, giving away that he does.

I think deep, deep, deep down, somewhere in the hard iron shell of Bane’s heart, he’s a teddy bear. I’ll never admit that out loud. I like my life. I don’t feel like dying.

“I don’t know. She sounds drunk. There are three x’s in sexxxy,” Colt points out, showing us his phone. “See? One. Two.” He taps the screen. “Three.”

I roll my eyes and Bane elbows Colt in the stomach. He doubles over, dropping his phone on the ground, and coughs.

“I’m fine,” he struggles to say.

“You shouldn’t be,” Bane says. “This isn’t a fucking joke.”

Colt gasps for air and nods. “Okay, I’m done. I swear.” He finally lies on the floor, staring up at the ceiling as he makes grunting noises from the pain. “Did you have to hit me so hard?”

Bane grunts, “Yes.”

“Ass,” Colt mumbles.

I take out my phone and stare at the message again, something wrong fluttering in my chest. I’d be a fool if I didn’t admit I find Harlow fucking beautiful. I never felt anything for her when she was underage. She never crossed my mind like that, even when she turned eighteen I had no feelings for her at all. I only noticed her as the Prez’s daughter.

But then she turned nineteen, and when she came home to the clubhouse for one of her college breaks, I won’t lie and say my heart didn’t skip a little fucking beat. She turned into a beautiful woman, and if my memory is correct she’ll be turning twenty in a week.

“I think she might be drunk.” I read the message to confirm. “She has to be. She never texts like this.”

“Oh? Have you been texting her?” Colt flips onto his stomach and props his chin in his hands. “Do tell.”

“Fuck you, gossip queen. No. You know what I mean. When we check in on her, she doesn’t text like this.”

“Yeah.” Bane rubs his chin with his hand. “She sounds wasted.”

I sigh, tilting my head back and feeling slightly annoyed because all I want to do is go home, take a hot shower, stretch, and go to bed. I won’t be able to sleep if we don’t check on her. I’m too worried.

“I’m worried,” Colt admits through his playful demeanor. “I say we hop on our bikes, go over there, and see what’s going on. If she’s okay, we leave. At least we’ll know.”

“And if she’s drunk, we’ll get our asses handed to us.”

“It isn’t our fault she’d be drunk, Bane,” I point out.

“Isn’t it? Doesn’t he like one of the members tailing her at all times? Where are they?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she told Grizzly to back off so she can have some privacy. Grizzly always gives in when it comes to Harlow. She’s his everything,” I reply to Bane.

“Yeah, well, maybe he should keep a better eye on her then.”

“Don’t be a dick.” I stretch again, this time my back pops and I groan in relief.

“Save it for the bedroom,” Colt teases.

“You’re annoying.”

“Am not,” Colt mocks me.

“No, you are,” Bane says seriously, even though I was kidding. “Let’s go then. Talking about it isn’t going to make her any less fucking drunk.” He pushes off the doorframe, his heavy boots stomping on the floor as he heads to the front door. “Well, are you fucking coming, or do I need to hold your hand and help you on your bike?”

“Why is he such a grouch?” Colt asks, jumping to his feet.

I turn off the light to the studio, gathering the store’s keys from my pocket. “Only Bane understands Bane.”

No one knows what happened to Bane or how he has four scars down his mouth. It’s a fucked-up nickname now that I think about it. The club gave him that name after Bane in the Batman movies. He doesn’t seem to mind, but maybe it isn’t about the cage on Bane’s mouth, but about his attitude.

---