Page 77 of Diary of a Biker Queen

“Stop talking and you won’t have to find out.”

Nyah giggled, but Lynx must have answered at the same time because she spoke to him quietly and then flashed me a thumbs-up, indicating he was coming to pick her up.

I started up Jason’s tattoo again and listened to him babble shit, but I kept sneaking little glances over at Nyah.

She was watching me too.

I loved the way I felt when she watched me work. She never hid the admiration she had for my art, and just having her here, knowing she was mine again, was doing things to my insides that made it so fucking hard to not go back on my promise of making her wait for it.

It was almost a relief when Lynx stopped out front on his bike, and Nyah blew me a kiss, before running out to join him.

And even though I watched her lean against him and kiss his lips, I didn’t feel an ounce of jealousy.

When Jason had made comments about fucking her, I’d wanted to kill him. And yet when she kissed Lynx, all I felt was how much I loved her.

I knew the difference. One was the desire to kill any man who wanted to touch her without her permission.

The other was happily giving her anything she wanted. Including other men.

Because watching her last night, watching her feel sexy and wanted and confident, I’d known my place. It was to build her up. To always support her.

Jason lifted his bald head and watched her walk out, a frown on his face.

“She was never going to fuck you, Jason. Don’t look so disappointed,” I said dryly.

He glanced over at me. “More’s the pity, huh? I don’t know how you do it though. Watching her kiss other men. If I had a woman like that, I wouldn’t want to share.”

I pushed his head down again. “You don’t though. So be quiet and let me finish your piece.”

The familiar buzz of the tattoo gun vibrated through my fingers, and I started up my work again, a lot less distracted now Nyah was gone, even though Jason’s endless yacking didn’t help. I focused on tracing the lines I’d already stenciled onto his back and enjoyed the peace that settled over me as I chipped away at it.

My head had been a mess for the past couple of months, ever since we’d found my mom’s body outside the Slayers’ gates. But life didn’t stop because she wasn’t here. We’d buried her in a small, private service that had only been attended by me, my brothers, and father, and then we’d had to go on with our lives, even though there was a gaping hole in them I doubted would ever truly close. I knew in my heart she would want nothing more than for me to be here for Nyah, taking care of her and the baby we were having, not sinking into a depression over the sickening way we’d lost her.

I squeezed my eyes tight, those images rushing back into my head, and I wiped my brow with the back of my arm to clear the sweat suddenly beading there.

I’d later blame that moment of stomach-churning grief for the fact I didn’t see the three men coming. I heard the bell over the shop’s door.

Took a breath, trying to get myself together enough to greet a new client.

And by the time I looked up, they were already on me, shoving a bag down over my head and tightening it around my neck until I could barely breathe.

23

NYAH

Dear Diary,

My parents want me to come home and raise my baby with them. I’d rather raise it with the “dirty thugs,” thanks.

Sitting on the back of Lynx’s bike with a plug inside me was an experience I was sure I would never forget. It had taken some shifting around to get comfortable behind him, and he’d looked over at me once, asking over the roar of the engine if I was okay.

I hadn’t known how to answer him because I had no idea if I was. The persistent feeling of fullness there was uncomfortable at first, until I found a spot where the vibrations of the bike between my legs felt good and the added pressure from the plug only heightened the experience.

By the time we approached the Slayers’ gates, I was breathless from the sensation.

So much so I didn’t even notice the sleek black sedan parked at the gates.

Or my parents standing beside it.