“Okay.” She seems uncertain, and I wish I could see the return of the confident woman she was before.
I stride ahead, only looking back to make sure she’s following. We make our way to the top of the compound. When we arrive at our destination, I wait for her to catch up. She’s looking at the building ahead.
“My house,” I explain.
“Drum—”
“No, wait. Don’t say anything yet. Come and see.” She’s nervous. But I haven’t brought her here to ravish her in my bedroom, even though I’d be well up for that. Instead of walking in through the main entrance, I take her round to the side. Pressing the button on the remote, the large garage door slowly glides up on its rails.
“Oh my God!” she exclaims, stepping eagerly inside. Far more animated than she had been so far today. She looks round at my stable and turns back, her eyes wide with delight. “Are these yours?”
“All mine,” I confirm, seeing what she sees—four vintage bikes in various stages of restoration, and in pride of place, my war era Knucklehead, now completely road ready. I’ve also got a Triumph Bonneville, a 1940 Indian Chief in a glorious light blue with the original fringes on the seat, and a Norton Commando, which is in need of a loving hand.
As she walks around, peering at this and that, crouching down to examine something closer, she looks like a kid let loose in a candy store. I give her a few minutes to take everything in, propping my backside on a workbench as she absorbs it all.
“Might need your help with these. Your advice.”
She smiles. “Help from a woman? You’d let me touch your bikes?”
“Babe, I’d let you touch anything of mine.” My hand goes to my crotch; she won’t miss I’m already hard.
“I…” Her face is glowing red.
I’m feeling like an oaf, after last night she’ll probably still be sore. “Look, I promised you a ride. That we’ll take our bikes out. You ready for that?”
“You riding one of these beauties?”
Only the Knucklehead’s ready for the road, but today is more for her than me. “Not today, I’ll take the Harley.” Then there’ll only be the likelihood of one of us breaking down.
Her eyes start to glow at the thought of a ride out, and some of my tension leaves me when she finally agrees. “Okay, Drum.”
We meander our way back down to the gates. “Wait for me here. I’ll get my bike from the clubhouse.”
A nod and I leave her, returning within minutes. She’s already got her old girl started, and I’m looking forward to watching her ride. I motion to her to go ahead, and follow her until we reach the main road, then I come up alongside her.
I’ve never wanted to have a bitch on the back of my bike, and never in my wildest dreams expected to be riding alongside one. But as we head out into the heat of the summer’s day, I know right at this moment there’s no place I’d rather be. She glances across at me, smiling widely. Placing her left hand on the gas tank of the Vincent, she gives it an exaggerated pat. I laugh into the air and give her a thumbs up, realising she’s pleased with the way it’s running. We increase our speed; I take my lead from her, knowing she’ll want to put her repaired bike through its paces.
Sunlight sparkles off the gleaming chrome—hers polished with love, mine by the prospects. I feel about as free as I’ve ever been in my life, able right at this moment to throw off the shackles of being a president and just allowing myself to enjoy the open road. We ride a few miles, each lost in our own contentment. She’s handling the Vincent like a pro, the old girl drawing out all of Sam’s riding skills, while my better handling Harley needs far less concentration. Her competent demonstration makes me go hard, the vibration of my Harley throbbing through my loins.
Once more, I laugh into the air, the asphalt under our tyres, the warm air rushing past, and the company I’m in so liberating. I’m enjoying myself, driving on automatic, periodic glances into my rearview, most of my concentration on the road ahead, but looks sneaked at the woman riding so adeptly by my side.
The next glance in my mirror shows there’s a semi coming up behind us, moving fast as it hasn’t got a trailer attached. Automatically estimating the distance, I can see he’s closing on us and we’ll need to go single file if he wants to pass. Or, we could see just what her Vincent can do.
The truck draws nearer. Positioning myself slightly ahead so she can see, I put my left arm out straight, palm up, and swing it. Her engine noise changes as she speeds up, and I have a moment of pride that she understands my language.
The driver of the truck must have slammed his foot on the gas; it’s catching up quickly, not only matching our pace but closing the gap. I start to feel uneasy and open the throttle again. She keeps up, and so does the truck. Risking a glance behind, I see a flash of metal in the hand of the passenger. Fuck, is that a gun? I may be paranoid, but I’m taking no chances.
I might be able to outrun him, but her bike’s sixty years old. If it can still reach its original top speed, the truck is likely to go as fast or faster. We’re doing a hundred already. Glancing sideways, I note the hard shoulder is asphalt and I know what we need to do. A move practised with my brothers but it may be alien to her.
She’s casting concerned looks toward me and worried ones behind. She suspects we are in trouble. Knowing we can’t outrun them and hoping to hell she’ll understand what I want her to do, I throw out my left arm, pointing to the left-hand side, then turn my palm down, and raise my arm up and down. Without hesitation, she leans to the left at the same time as I go to the right. We ease back on the throttles; the speeding truck zooms through between us. Now I signal her to stop.
To my fuckin’ amazement, she reaches behind her, and when she pulls her hand back out, she’s got a gun in it, Christ knows from where. I take mine from underneath my vest. Yes, as I’d feared and confirming this was no joyrider, the truck's stopping and doing a U-turn in the road.
As soon as it’s within range, we both fire at the tyres, without me having to say a fuckin’ word. One of the front ones explodes.
“Go!” I yell, pointing back the way we’ve come.
She wastes no time, expertly turning on the road and pushing that Vincent as fast as it will fucking go.
We don’t stop until we reach the compound. I sound my horn and the gates slide open when we are only yards away. Then we’re inside, the gates slamming shut behind us.
The first thing I do is yell out for Blade and warn him to keep an eye out for the truck, doubting they’ll follow us here, but knowing we can’t be too careful. Then I look at Sam, who’s still sitting on her bike, taking off her helmet and shaking out her beautiful hair, which has come loose from its tie somewhere along the way.
I expect to see a scared and shaking woman. What I did not anticipate is for her to be sitting there grinning and smiling. When she catches my eye, she starts to laugh and continues laughing. Huge great guffaws that bend her double over the tanks. She’s laughing so much she wipes tears from her eyes. Never, ever, have I seen anything so sexy in my life. Well, apart perhaps from that moment when she pulled a gun from her bike.
At last she recovers enough to speak, the words forced out between giggles. “That was some freaking test ride,” she manages to stammer out.
That sets me off too.
I can’t wait any longer. I’m off my bike, pulling her off hers, holding her in my arms, tight. My brothers have gathered around us, some armed and manning the gate, others simply looking at us with their mouths wide open.
All I can fucking think is, she’d make a great old lady!
Chapter Fifteen
Sam…
“Well, that’s the second time you’ve given me a hard ride in less than twenty-four hours!”
It’s not until everyone splits their sides laughing around us that I realise I’d said it aloud. Drummer hugs me even tighter and smooths his hand over my hair. “Fuck, woman. You fuckin’ amaze me, you know?” He pulls away only a little so that he can t
ouch his lips to mine. I open for him, and his tongue swirls inside. It’s a reaffirmation of life, that we both got back alive.
“What the fuck happened? You two come tearing back like bats out of hell.” Their sergeant-at-arms interrupts our kiss. “Wanna tell us what’s going on?”
With one last caress, Drummer reluctantly pulls away from me, his hand smoothing the hair back from my face before he turns to Peg. But he doesn’t let me go, putting his arm around me and holding me close to his side. “I’m still trying to work that out for myself. Nearly got rear-ended by a semi.”
“They try to run you down?” Peg looks incredulous.
“Looked that way. They were armed, could see that. We went wide and let them go through, then shot out the tyres.”
“I think that was my bullet.” I look up at him and smirk.
As Peg raises an eyebrow, Drummer chuckles. “She’s got a fuckin’ gun hidden on that bike.” He sounds proud of me. “Fuck knows why, but it came in useful today.”
“That bike’s worth money. I wasn’t going to have some little punk stop me on the road and try to steal it from me. I adapted the toolbox and keep it in there.”
“You learn how to shoot, darlin’?”
Duh, obviously. “Wouldn’t have taken out the tyre if I hadn’t.”
Drum smirks. “That was my shot.”
“When you’re done arguing over who shot what, we gonna talk about this, Prez?”
“Yeah.” He speaks to Peg while staring into my eyes. “Just give me a moment to sort my woman out, will you? Get the boys together, and I’ll be there in a few.”
“Are you alright, Sam?” A new voice enters the conversation. It’s Viper. I don’t know why, but at the sound of his voice the adrenaline rush fades and I start to shiver, even in the heat of the sun.
“I got you, babe.” Drummer’s arms come back around me, and I lean into his shoulder.
“I’m sorry—”
“Shush, nothing to be sorry for. Fuck, that was some shit we went through.” Pulling me closer, he whispers into my ear, “I’m so fuckin’ proud of you. The way you understood what I wanted you to do? The fact you know how to protect yourself? So fuckin’ proud.”
“Can I talk to my daughter now, Prez?” Viper’s bouncing on the spot with impatience.
Drummer lets me go and swings around to look at Viper. It’s then I remember that we haven’t spoken about what went on last night. I touch his arm. “It’s okay, Drum. Viper and I came to an understanding, and if you’re really okay with me staying, we’d like to get to know each other better.”
“If I’m okay with you staying? Fuck woman, I’m not letting you leave!” Drum takes both my hands, his intense gaze pressing his sincerity onto me. “Prospect,” he calls over his shoulder. “Take Sam’s stuff up to the clubhouse and find her a clean room to stay in.”
“I’ll get right on it, Prez.” Roadrunner snaps into action.
He kisses me again, a briefer one this time. “I’ll come find you as soon as I can.” Throwing a nod at Viper, he marches away.
I’m still reeling from the fact he genuinely doesn’t want me to go, and I’m going to need some time to process what happened this morning. Why were we being chased? The club must have enemies, but Drum isn’t letting on if he knows who they are. But someone was certainly gunning for us this morning. If I stay, are things like this going to happen all the time? Will I risk someone shooting at me every time I go for a ride? We got back safely this time, but only because Drummer knew what to do. If I’d been on my own. I shiver. But I’d driven fifteen hundred miles without having problems. It’s only when I’ve been accompanied by a member of the Satan’s Devils that my life was put at risk.
“Sam, you okay?”
As Viper’s gentle words interrupt my thoughts, I shake my head. “Honestly, I don’t know. Is it always like that here?”
His brow creases. “What are you talking about, Drum…”
“No, nothing to do with Drum, but the club. Going out for a ride, being chased, shot at?”
His eyes crinkle. “No, not usually. Or not for a while now. Had some trouble with another club a couple of months back but thought that was done and dusted.” He waves in the direction of the clubhouse. “That’s what we’ll be discussing in church. For now, it’s safest you stay here.”
I’d already worked that out.
“Come.” He puts his hand to the small of my back to encourage me along. “While we’re in the meeting, there’s someone who wants to talk to you.”
I’d started moving, but now my steps falter. Touching his arm, I hold him back. “Sandy?” I whisper.
“Yeah.”
It’s hard to tell anything from his expression, so I ask, “You tell her?”
“Yeah.” His bland expression gives nothing away as to how that conversation had gone. “She wants to meet you, to talk to you.”
I swallow, feeling my eyes opening wide. “Do I need my gun?” I’m only half joking.
For a second, his eyes crease, and then he grows serious again. “Just have words with her, okay?”
Feeling slightly dubious about meeting the person who’s technically my stepmother, I follow Viper up to the clubhouse. Entering, Sophie comes over to me and puts her arm around me.
“Wraith told me you were chased. Bloody hell, you kick arse, sister, don’t you? Drum told him you coped with it like a pro. Shot the tyres out an’ all.” The way she speaks makes me smile—a combination of American and British English all wrapped up in one package and delivered in that delightful English accent—but I get the gist of what she’s saying.
I shrug it off. “Just did what he told me to. Thank fuck he was there.” That’s what’s been playing on my mind. I wouldn’t have had a clue if his quick thinking hadn’t got us behind the truck. But if I hadn’t been out riding with Drum, there would have been no reason for a truck to have been chasing me.
The prospect, Marsh, is behind the bar. “Want a drink, Wrench?” he calls out, and I appreciate at least he remembered to add back in the ‘r’. A drink would go down very well right now.
“Beer, thanks,” I call back.
“I’m going to join the others now; I’ll be back later.” Viper stares at me for a second, before adding, “Fuck, but I’m proud of you, girl.”
I may not know much about him, but his approval warms something inside of me. My eyes glisten as I nod back at him.
“Soph, can you introduce Sam to Sandy? I think she’s out back.”
“Sure, Viper. She’s in the kitchen with the others; I’ll take her through.”
Sure enough, as soon as my drink’s in my hand, Sophie leads the way through to the large industrial kitchen behind the bar area. “You haven’t been in the clubhouse much, have you?”
“No, not since the first night, and then all I saw was this room, briefly.” Very briefly, I remind myself, I hadn’t wanted to look around after I’d seen Viper’s cock disappearing down the slut’s throat. “This and the room out back where I slept.”
“Well,” she explains as she leads me along, “we’ve got a big kitchen, the old ladies usually cook for the men, and we all eat there.”
“Just the old ladies? What about the sweet butts? Don’t they do their part?”
She laughs. “Old ladies and sweet butts don’t mix, babe. Hey everyone, this is Wench. She’s been allowed out of her cave.” Ignoring the evil eye I throw at her, she waves at each of the women in turn. “This is Crystal, and that imp under the table there is Amy. Crystal’s married to Heart. Heart so called—”
“Because he’s got a great big heart. Pleased to meet you.”
Pasting a smile on my face, I shake the hand Crystal offers to me, and then, to delay meeting the person I’m dreading to talk to, kneel down and give a little wave under the table. “Hi, Amy, how you doing?” As Amy looks on shyly, I look up to see Crystal beaming. It seems like I’ve done the right thing.
“And this is Carmen. She’s a useful babe
to have around; she’s a hairdresser.”
The introduction makes my hand automatically go to try and tame my windswept hair. She notices, and her eyes sharpen with interest. “I could do something with that if you like?”
I’ve never bothered to do much except having it occasionally trimmed, not having mixed with a lot of women before, but the idea of having a different style is intriguing, so I nod. “Maybe, but I’d still like to keep the length.”
Crossing the kitchen, she reaches out her hand, her fingers touching my hair, her professional interest obviously piqued. “Maybe some layers? To bring out the curls?”
“As long as you don’t take too much off.” Can this day get any more bizarre? An hour ago, I was running for my life, now I’m getting advice on my hair?
“Come see me sometime, and I’ll see what I can do. Anyway, nice to meet you, Sam. And if you’re wondering, my ol’ man’s Bullet.”
There’s one woman left, a woman who’s older than the rest, and who’s staring down into a cup of coffee. Sophie is obviously at a loss as to how to introduce me, especially when the woman glances up and I see her red-rimmed eyes. Taking the initiative, I cross over to her, wondering for a moment whether to pull out a chair and sit beside her, then thinking maybe that might be too presumptuous.
“You must be Sandy.”
She looks at me. Really looks at me, and I have to stop myself squirming under her examination. She nods and picks up her cup. “Let’s take this next door.”
Agreeing with her suggestion, I’d rather anything she has to say is said in private, I follow her back out into the clubroom and over to a corner table. As all the men are in church, and the sweet butts presumably know their services are not required, except for the prospect cleaning the bar, the room is otherwise empty.
Sitting down, Sandy waves me to the seat opposite her. She indicates the room with her hand. “You should have seen this place earlier. Ol’ ladies stay well clear for a few hours after a party. Until the prospects have cleaned up.” She shakes her head and gives a small smile. “At least Marsh remembered the air freshener this time.”
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