“About ten minutes,” I answer, feeling her tighten her grip around my waist.
Klutch’s voice comes through our helmets. “Yo, Rambler, you staying at the clubhouse tonight or heading to your place?”
Good fucking question. I haven’t done shit to winterize my double-wide. I was in California foer three weeks before getting back and leaving again for Florida with him.
Hell, for all I know, my pipes might be frozen, because I know the heat never got turned on. Not exactly the welcome I wanted to give Pinky when I brought her home.
“Gotta check in with Denali first,” I answer, deciding to deal with one thing at a time.
“Probably a good idea,” Klutch replies.
Train cranks his throttle, pulling alongside us. Cleo waves from the back of his bike, her purple hair peeking out from under her helmet.
“Y’all better hurry,” his voice cuts through. “Weather report says we’re getting six inches of snow tonight.”
“Fuck,” I groan.
That’s just what we need.
Snow.
I glance up at the sky. It’s gray and gloomy, the color of steel and heavy with the promise of precipitation.
“Snow?” Pinky’s voice goes up an octave. “I’ve never seen snow before!”
As much as I don’t want the shit, I can’t help but smile.
Of course, she’s excited. She’s a Florida girl through and through.
Demi’s soft laugh comes through the speaker next. “You’re in for a treat. Or a nightmare, depending on how you feel about freezing your tits off.”
Pinky shivers harder against my back, reminding me that she doesn’t have proper winter clothes. The leather jacket she borrowed from one of the Jacksonville girls is nowhere near warm enough for our Missouri winters.
I feel like a jackass for not thinking this through better. In my defense, though, we left Jacksonville in such a hurry after that run-in with her psycho ex that winter gear was the last thing on all of our minds. All she has in the two bags stuffed in my saddlebags are summer clothes and shoes.
My mind races as I work through the logistics. We’ll need to get her a thicker coat, some gloves, boots, all that shit. And judging by the chill in the air, sooner rather than later.
“Hey,” I say through the helmet. “You hanging in there, butterfly?”
“Y-yeah,” she stutters. “Ju-just c-c-c-cold.”
“Almost there,” I promise, picking up speed. “We’ll get you warmed up.”
As I race towards the clubhouse, I think back to Jacksonville, to Pinky’s tear-streaked face as she called her friend to say goodbye. They’d boo-whooed like they’d never see each other again, both making promises to call and text. It had gutted me to see her so upset. But it couldn’t be helped. Bringing her here was the right call. Her ex won’t look for her in St. Louis.
She’ll be safer here.
Klutch leads our small convoy down the empty streets, heading toward the industrial district where our clubhouse is located. The buildings grow more weathered, the streets rougher. This part of the city is forgotten by most, which makes it perfect for us.
“I thought we were going to your house?” Pinky asks, confusion evident in her voice.
“Gotta check in with my Pres first,” I explain. “Let him know we’re back and that I’ve got you with me.”
And pray he doesn’t flip his fucking lid. Catching him off guard like this is going to piss him off. He doesn’t like being ambushed with bullshit. Not to mention that we don’t need beef with the Dirty Devils. We’ve got enough of our own problems with the Renegade Bastards.
I blow out a heavy breath.
At this point, it is what it fucking is, and I’ll take whatever punishment he dishes out as long as the club agrees to help keep my girl safe.
