“Got something else to say too,” I tell her, staring down into those big eyes. “The guys asked me today if you’re my Old Lady. And I realized… I never actually asked you. I was too busy being a lovesick fool last night.”
I watch her breath catch.
“So here it is, baby. I love you. I’m fucking crazy about you. I want you wearing my patch, riding on the back of my bike as my Old Lady, and one day taking my last name. I want all of it with you. You in?”
Lucy’s eyes fill with tears, but she’s smiling so big it makes my chest ache.
“Yes,” she whispers, then louder, “Yes, Tiny. I want that. I want all of it with you too.”
“Fuck yes!” I roar, lifting her up and spinning her around once before setting her carefully back down. I kiss her hard, deep, and filthy, pouring everything I feel into it.
When I finally pull back, I’m grinning like a madman.
“Good. Because I already told the guys I’m locking your ass down. Patch, ring, babies, the whole damn thing. You’re mine now, buttercup. Officially.”
She laughs, still holding the flowers between us, looking happier than I’ve ever seen her.
I rest my forehead against hers, voice dropping low.
“Now… you gonna show me that tattoo again so I can properly worship my Old Lady?”
Lucy’s blush deepens, but she nods, biting her lip with that shy, sexy little smile I love so much.
Yeah, I’m never letting this girl go.
Frank Parker
I sit at my desk long after everyone else has gone home. The office is quiet. Too quiet. My computer screen has gone dark. I haven’t touched the reports I was supposed to finish. All I can think about is Lucy. She hasn’t come home. She’s been staying with that woman Sophie for weeks now. Still working at the clinic. Still seeing that biker. All my rules. All my warnings. None of it worked.
I feel powerless for the first time in my life. The feeling sits heavy in my gut. I stand up and grab my keys. I don’t want to go home. Not yet. Not to that empty house where Lucy’s room sits untouched. I drive instead. No destination at first. Just driving. Eventually I pull into the parking lot of a small bar on the edge of town. I’ve never been here before. I don’t usually drink alone. But tonight nothing feels usual.
I walk inside and take a seat at the far end of the bar. The place is dim. A few regulars sit at tables. The bartender nods at me.
“What’ll it be?”
“Whiskey. Neat.”
He pours it and slides the glass over. I take a long sip. It burns going down and I welcome it.
A man a few stools down glances at me. He’s older with gray hair. He looks like he’s been here a while. He lifts his own glass in a small salute. “You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders,” he says.
I don’t answer right away. I take another sip. The words sit there between us for a minute. “Family trouble,” I finally say.
He nods like he understands. “Always is, isn’t it? Name’s Ray.”
“Frank.”
We sit in silence for a bit. I finish my drink and order another. Ray signals for one too.
“Wife? Kids?” he asks.
“Daughter.” The word tastes bitter. “She was a good girl. Always listened. Until one of the Iron Reapers bikers got his hooks in her.”
Ray Laughs low. “Mine did that years ago. Ran off with some motorcycle guy. Thought the world of him.”
I look at him then. Really look. “What happened?”
He takes a slow sip. “I showed her what that life was really like. She came running home after a few months. Thanked me for it later.”
