Page 109 of Diary of a Biker Queen

Fuck. This suddenly felt like an execution.

My heart thumped too fast, adrenaline filling my system. Even though the gun was no longer making an imprint on my spine, there was no mistaking its presence. Blood roared in my ears, blocking out everything else, and I waited for it. Silently counting down in my head, waiting for the piercing pain of a bullet ripping through tissue and muscle.

I held my breath.

At least I’d see Luca on the other side.

A door slammed behind me, locks engaging with a mechanical whir one by one.

And yet I still stood there, frozen, unable to move.

“Took your time,” a familiar voice said.

And that was when I knew I was dead. That the gun had gone off and I’d died instantly.

Because surely there was no other explanation for me ripping off the blindfold and seeing Luca and Dax on the other side of the room.

Dax not missing.

Luca not burned.

Both of them still breathing, locked up, and staring at me like we were completely and utterly fucked.

33

NYAH

Dear Diary,

This is what I’d hoped for. Apparently.

Isat on the Slayers’ club couch with Violet, Amber, Kiki, Queenie, and Kara in a circle around me. Violet had one of her notebooks out and was diligently filling a page with her neat handwriting as the others threw ideas at her.

Their chatter about turkey stuffing and place settings drifted around me like a fog, a mist of noise and laughter I couldn’t quite catch.

“What about you, Nyah?” Violet asked. “Do you have a Thanksgiving favorite? I want everyone to have at least one dish they’re really excited about.”

I blinked at her. “What?”

She always had so much patience. “Food. We’re all making our favorites for the club’s Thanksgiving meal. Any ideas what you’re going to do?”

I blinked, because I hadn’t even realized that’s what they were planning. I tried to look interested. “Uh, yams, maybe?”

Violet nodded and jotted that down in her notebook. “Yum. Okay, so who’s going to work on decorations?”

I wanted to go back to staring into space and not being aware of my surroundings. Because when I was forced to interact with the real world, all I could see were the pitying looks the other women threw in my direction, and I had the feeling they were all walking on eggshells around me, scared I was going to break.

And they were probably right. I felt broken.

The club door slammed, loud enough to startle me out of my stupor, and Chirp walked in with his arms full of parcels and envelopes. He stopped in front of us and shifted the pile to his left hand. “Mail, ladies. Queenie, you’ve got the new issue of that fashion magazine you like. Kiki, as usual, you’ve got a soft parcel…let me guess, more clothes?”

She grinned at him and took the plastic mailer that was straining at the joints to hold in whatever dresses or tops she’d bought online. “A girl has a right to shop, Chirp. Leave me alone with the things that make me happy. This one isn’t even for me. It’s for Kyle.”

Chirp squinted at her. “You’re buying his clothes now? I guess that’s why he no longer looks like he stepped right off the farm. At least not all the time.”

Kiki seemed pleased with that assessment. “He needed a whole new wardrobe after he left that creepy fucking cult he lived in. We’re still trying to fill it out.”

Chirp had already lost interest and passed Amber a handful of envelopes, the top one with a threatening red warning on top. “Amber, bills. Might want to actually pay those.”