Confiscating the nicest pair of pajama pants with a drawstring waist, I also snag a random t-shirt from a hanger. There are clothes in my truck I could wear, but I’m going to assume a stranger walking around on her own on a biker compound isn’t advised. I don’t know the rules, so I’m going to follow Gunz’s lead. Fewer problems for me and him if I do that.

  Draping the outfit over my shoulder, I remake the bed before slipping from the bedroom into the bath to wash. I find a towel under the sink to go about my business. By the time I’m through, I feel refreshed and ready to take on whatever the day brings… even if I’m dressed in a large Harley t-shirt from a dealership in Texas and bottoms so long and baggy, they cover my toes. It works, that’s all that matters, as does my bra. At my age, I’d rather lose a toe than walk around people I don’t know without one. Hell, if I had sex, I might not even take it off. Let’s say, after breastfeeding a nine-pound newborn and sliding over the forties plate, my boobs are less than stellar.

  Standing in front of the mirror, I wipe the fog away to see myself. There I am. Not bad. Not great. Just me. Purple hair to hide the gray. I got tired of dying it to keep my natural color, so I decided it didn’t matter anymore. Purple’s better. Life is too short to care what other people think. This age line on my forehead doesn’t matter either. I massage it with my finger, and it smoothens out only to return when I quit messing with it.

  There I am… me.

  Melanie. Mother. Professor. All around decent human who doesn’t smoke, rarely drinks, and is mildly addicted to tea, loud music, and wearing leather bracelets, like the one I’m re-tying on now—simple strips of black cord with a single heart charm dangling from the middle. Adam gave it to me for Christmas when he was in high school. It’s a favorite of mine.

  Fingering my hair, ’cause borrowing someone’s brush without their permission is inappropriate, I do the best I can with what I’ve got. Next, I refold my clothes in a neat pile and exit the bathroom to set them on the edge of Gunz’s bed for safekeeping. Now, it’s really time to face reality.

  The hall is basic enough and opens into a living room where Dom’s playing on the floor with a blonde baby girl and old-school blocks. The oversized flat-screen television is on with a cartoon I don’t recognize. Not that I would. I’m out of practice with the baby thing, now that Adam’s a grown man, or tries to be.

  I step around them and their toys and find myself in an adjoined kitchen, dining room combo where Janie sits at a small, four-person table within eyeshot of the kids. With her is the same blonde from Gunz’s photos. Bink, I think her name is. He explained her a bit last night. There’s also a brown-haired teenager wearing a huge sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder, exposing a hot pink bra strap.

  They look up at me all at once as if I interrupted a conversation, probably about me. That’s how most women work. Gossip is their lifeblood.

  Bink lifts a chin in hello. How very biker chick of her. She has bags under her otherwise beautiful eyes, high cheekbones, and she’s gorgeous. Prettier than her pictures.

  I return a half-awkward wave thingy.

  Janie’s the first to break the silent stare-at-the-new-woman moment. “Bink, Tati, this is Kit. Kit, Bink, and Tati,” she introduces in a mild Spanish accent, her eyes sweeping from me to them and back a handful of times, gauging reactions. She’s an observer, this one.

  “That’s me.” I rock back on my heels and point to the kitchen. “Gonna grab a drink if that’s cool. Gunz said to wait for him here. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  “Sure. Help yourself.” This comes from Tati, the teen. She smiles my way when the others don’t. If anything, they look like I’m infecting their turf with an imaginary fungus and want me gone.

  Fantastic. This is going swimmingly.

  Drink, then hide. That’s the plan. I skate by the table and find what I need in the kitchen. Tea bags are in the fifth overhead cupboard, mugs in the second. I add hot water into a motorcycle-printed cup, microwave it for a minute, and dunk whatever tea Gunz has on hand in the liquid. I’m not picky. Tea’s great in all forms—hot, cold, iced, sweetened, unsweetened, black, green, and flavored. I’m a fan of it all.

  Blowing on the top, I rest a hip against the counter and look out the large front window that faces the street. Houses line the rear of the compound, all single-story with well-kept lawns. Nothing fancy. Very midwestern, nineteen-fifties suburbia. At the end of the road, there’s a sort of cul-de-sac. In the driveway of the last house sits a pink-and-black classic muscle car. From here, I can’t make out the model, but it’s a nice one.

  Across the way, a curvy woman, with brown hair, a bedazzled shirt, and wild print leggings, blows bubbles with her two kids on their front porch—a toddler and a girl, elementary school age.

  It’s nice here. Much different from what I expected. When you roll up to a biker compound with a mangled gate, you don’t imagine women and children living beyond the walls. And you definitely don’t consider how normal their lives seem.

  I take a sip of hot tea and sigh to myself, wondering how long Gunz will be.

  If I hide in his bedroom all day, I’ll go stir-crazy. Sitting still isn’t my forte. I’m a busy bee. Always working, cooking, cleaning, watering my neighbors’ plants… you get the gist.

  What if Gunz is off plotting a way to get rid of me?

  Maybe he didn’t feel the kinship I did last night.

  I shake my head to purge such thoughts. He wouldn’t have written the note the way he did if he didn’t want me here. He’s not some young stud trying to add another notch to his bedpost by appeasing the baby mama. The man clearly gets enough tail that he doesn’t need to play games.

  Waiting it is.

  Is it weird I kind of miss him already?

  I sound fucking pathetic.

  Get a grip, Mel. He’s hot, mega hot, and those eyes might be dreamy, but get out of fantasy land.

  Gunz

  Facing my brothers, I fill in the deets about our special visitor. “The woman’s name is Kit, and she’s the mother of my son.”

  The bomb’s dropped.

  It takes a second for it to explode and reality to sink in.

  Mickey steps forth, and Gypsy grabs his bicep to reel him back. “Your what?”

  “You got a kid?” Bulk asks, scratchin’ his bald head.

  “Is she free-range pussy?” This comes from Jizz—dick for brains.

  Seizing control of the conversation before it gets outta hand, I keep talkin’. “I knocked her up—”

  “We ain’t givin’ that lyin’ whore money,” Runner interjects with red-faced hostility as he steps up to the table and tosses the packet of papers back into the middle. They land with an ominous smack and everybody looks to see what I’ll do.

  Teeth grinding teeth, my hackles rise, as they always do around him. He screwed a dear friend of mine, Beth, over. She loved him. Wouldn’t give away her virginity like he wanted, so he took club whores to bed, not caring how that would affect her—a chick he claimed to care for. In my book, if you care about someone that way, you don’t mess around. Cheating’s for cowards.

  Nostrils flaring, I lift a chin in challenge. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth, Runner, unless you want this night to end with me bashin’ in your ugly mug. She ain’t here for money. She’s here for Adam, my son. He’s in jail. Got himself locked up for doin’ dumb shit.” That’s as much as the young prick deserves to know.

  “So, he’s grown?” Big asks from his chair, genuinely interested in the news.

  “Yes.”

  “And the bitch kept a kid from you.” Runner runs his idiot mouth a second time, inchin’ closer to a mouthful of blood and a visit to the dentist. Nobody calls Kit a bitch.

  “Again,” I growl. “It ain’t like that.”

  Dallas steps up and slaps Runner in the back of the skull. He scowls and flips Dallas the bird. Findin’ it funny, I chuckle, as does Big. Runner doesn’t care for our amusement at his expense and turns his rude sentiment in our direction. Well, mine. He doesn’t wanna poke the bear. Big’s in no place to handle any form of disrespect. I smile wide at Runner on purpose, to fuel the childish anger he brought upon himself. I’ve never liked the prick. For some reason, Big brought him into the club on account of his father bein’ a member way back when. Seems the biker gene skipped a generation.

  Blimp, God love the man, steers things back where they should be. “Then what’s it like, Gunz? Where’s she at now?”

  “She’s at my place.” Which he knows, but the others don’t.

  As if shit isn’t already weird enough, Viper’s flip switches from chill to aggressive. “With Janie and Dom? What the hell were you thinkin’?”

  Bonding with Janie and her boy a dozen and a half times does not make them his. This motherfucker needs to slow his roll. They’re mine to care for. Mine to protect. This young-buck bravado needs a serious reality check. First Runner, now Viper—children, the whole lot of ‘em.

  Not havin’ any lip, I put the man in his place. “I was thinkin’, asshole, that it’s my house and I can let anyone I want sleep there.” To further cement my point, I double-tap the Sergeant-at-Arms patch on my chest.

  That does fuckall to quell Viper’s outburst. “Not with Janie and Dom there, you can’t.”

  Has he even stopped long enough to think maybe I know what I’m doing? That Kit isn’t a threat. That I wouldn’t let her in my home if she was. I get he’s overprotective after what went down, but I’m not the enemy here and neither is Kit. Emotions runnin’ high or not aren’t an excuse to be a punk.

  Keepin’ my cool, I arch a brow, when I’d rather roll my eyes at Viper’s misplaced bullshit. “Says who, Viper? You?”

  Said brother steps forth like he’s about to start shit.

  Kai cuts a hand through the air. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Calm down. Gunz is talkin’. Show him some respect,” he interjects, and everyone shuts their judgmental mouths.

  I deliver a chin lift of appreciation.

  He returns one in kind.

  Undeterred, I continue where I left off. “As I was sayin’, Kit’s here, and she’s gonna stay here ‘til I say otherwise. You’re gonna show her respect and be nice. No tryin’ to fuck her. No tryin’ to get her on the back of your bikes. I know we’re on lockdown and at war. This ain’t the most convenient time to deal with this shit, but I got a son, and he’s gotta be a priority, too.”

  Big stands, using the table to get up, and pounds the top of my shoulder with his giant fist. “Congrats, brother. You do what you gotta do. We’re gonna support whatever you decide. Ain’t that right?” His intense stare sweeps the small room, his intent loud and clear. You gotta problem with it, fuck the hell off.

  Blimp also stands from his chair with an old-man groan. “That’s right. We got you, brother.” His elbow nudges mine.

  “Congrats on the kid,” Brew, one of Bink’s brothers, says.

  “Whatever you need, I’m here.” Kai thumps his heart twice, then points to me, effectively gettin’ himself on the low end of my shit list.

  Scratching the base of his neck, Viper wades around Big to slap me on the back of my cut. “Sorry. They’re right. Whatever ya need. You know I’m there.”

  I know he is.

  All’s forgiven. No hard feelings. Next topic.

  Prez does what he does best and jumps back into club business. Kit and Adam are quickly forgotten as we discuss the up-and-coming run, the lockdown, who’s on patrol, how we’re gonna run our auto shop while on lockdown, and the line of repairs needed on the compound. Blood lust stinks up the room ’cause everyone’s eager to take the first run, but we can’t spare the protection here. Six guys. That’s the deal. One I agree with. We can’t let the mother chapter go undefended. Too much is at stake.

  “Gunz, you want in on this one?” Kai’s got his pad of paper out to take notes.

  Going wasn’t on my agenda, but I’m not opposed to a run. Probably best I go, considering Kai’s too green, and Big’s got Bink and his daughter to think of. “If you want. Sure.”

  Kai scribbles on his pad. “With your tech knowledge and other skills, I’d like to put ya down.”

  Fine by me.

  “If this ain’t gonna interfere with your son,” Big adds, leaning back in his chair, the eerie picture of calm. I can’t imagine the emotional shit he put Bink through last night. Seems whatever her magic touch does, worked. Thank fuck.

  “He’s got another month in the slammer. What we thinkin’, two weeks, a month?”

  “Somewhere ‘round that,” Kai replies.

  “And Viper’s stayin’ back to help with Janie and the kid.” My eyes sweep to the man who nods the affirmative.

  “I’ll take care of them,” he vows, and I trust him to do just that. It shouldn’t be Bink’s job to care for all the women on the compound when their men are gone. I’m happy he’s gonna step up.

  “He’ll be on the next run,” Kai adds. “I’ve got Blimp, White Boy, Mickey, Gypsy, and Runner this time ‘round.”

  My nose crinkles in distaste at the latter name mentioned. “If that shithead can keep his mouth to himself, then I’ll go.” I point directly at Runner, not givin’ a damn if he don’t like it.

  He rubs the side of his face with a middle finger. “Don’t worry, Gunz, I don’t wanna blow ya.” Gee…subtle and charming, and he wonders why he’s gotta beg whores for action. Nobody wants to ride a whiny, oversensitive bitch, when they could fuck a real man. Not a wannabe in leather.

  Shaking my head, I don’t give him the satisfaction of a real response. “Not what I was referring to.”

  “Alright, fellas.” Big claps his hands. “I think that concludes today’s business.” Prez picks up the gavel and slams it on the table to end church and the brothers filter out, besides the six leaving in three days, Kai, and him.

  Those standing take chairs, and we dive in for a solid hour, goin’ over every inch of the run. By the time I’m through, it’s past lunchtime and I start to feel guilty for leaving Kit at my house that long with people she doesn’t know. As for Niki, I haven’t had time to address her poor behavior either. If all that wasn’t stressful enough, I’ve gotta pack for a month-long trip and break the news I’m leaving to Janie, Bink, Beth, Niki, and Kit.

  Fuck. That’s a lot of women to come clean to.

  Pray for me. I mean it. Hell hath no fury like a biker chick worried about her men. The claws are bound to come out.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  GUNZ

  Kicking off my shitkickers when I walk in the front door, I hang my cut on the hook behind it for safekeeping. In the living room, I nod hello to my resident teen, who’s too engrossed in the television to speak. Leaning over, careful not to ruin her view, I peck Dom’s forehead. He’s fast asleep, sprawled across his mama, sucking his thumb. Then I seek the one person I’m dying to lay eyes on before I take a siesta. After church and finding Niki gone, I’m ready to wind down. This no sleep is startin’ to catch up.

  When I don’t find Kit in the main living areas, I check out the only place she could be. At the threshold of my bedroom, I pause as I catch a hottie propped against the headboard of my bed, her body tucked under the blankets, wearing one of my older shirts as she indulges in one of my favorite pastimes.

  Happy to watch her all day, I rest my shoulder against the frame and stifle a yawn. “Whatcha readin’?” I prompt when she doesn’t notice my presence.

  Kit startles, eyes jerking up from the pages. “Oh. Hi. Um. Hey… A book.” Holding her spot, she lifts the evidence. “I promise I wasn’t snooping. Much, anyhow.” The beauty shrugs, wearing a coy smile like she’s trying to decipher if I’m gonna get angry or let her nosy ways slide.

  Even if I was in the mental state to care, I don’t see a reason to be upset.

  I grin. It’s lopsided and half-assed on account of exhaustion. “You were bored, huh?” I tease.

  “I was. Sorry.” Kit lays the open book on her lap, pages down, to give me her undivided attention. I appreciate she cares enough to give a damn I’m here. Most would keep on keepin’ on. Janie does. Though she’s a teenager, and this is her home. Different circumstances, I guess.

  “Nothing to be sorry for.” I scratch my forehead and blink a dozen times to stay upright. “I’m just glad you’re still here. You know you could’ve sat in, oh, I dunno, the living room.” I thumb that away in reference.

  Kit tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she looks up at me through her lashes—innocent and uncomfortable. “I don’t think outsiders are welcome here.” She chews her bottom lip.

  I frown.

  Whatever gave her that idea? Did something happen? Was Janie not inviting, as I explicitly stated she should be in the letter I left this morning? Guess that’s another thing I’ll have to get to the bottom of later.

  Not liking how the word outsider forms on Kit’s lips, I let my feelings be known. “Outsiders, no. You, yes. So, how you likin’ the book?” I flick my chin at the well-worn black-and-red cover. It’s my favorite of the series. Read it half a dozen times already.

  Wearing a thoughtful smile, she caresses the spine with two fingers. “It’s very good. I’m kind of surprised you have it.”

  I’m sure she is.

  “Why? ’Cause I’m a man?” I wink.

  “It’s a romance.”

  Eh. Sorta. Kinda.

  “And men don’t read romance?” I bait, loving how our conversations bob and weave, regardless of the topic. No judgment. No bullshit.

  Readjusting on the bed to get situated, the corner of Kit’s mouth twitches in barely concealed amusement. “Not really.”

  See, that’s where she’s wrong.

  “The series is about badass warrior vamps who listen to rap music and carry weapons to protect their species. It’s not just sex and romance. There’s action and a well-thought-out plot. Nuff said.”

  “It’s still romance,” she counters, her lips spreading into a brilliant ha-ha-gotcha smile.