Page 31 of The Price of Love

“I don’t think they need to.”

I give Dimples a side-eye. It’s not like her to be anti-prospect, but after her weirdness this morning, who knows. “They need more experience riding in a pack.”

“Prospect One’s got it, but Two needs more work.”

“Both. We’re gonna need to call a vote on One by the end of the riding season, so I wanna know she’s ready.”

Dimple sighs. “Okay.”

When we enter, the locals all stop to greet us. The Thorns are minor celebrities in Cinder Ridge since we’ve brought in enough business to keep things from falling completely apart.

The bar smells of spilled beer and overused frying oil. I’m careful as I walk to the table since the floor slopes, having settled unevenly over the decades. The mismatched tables and stools remind me of how the Thorns’ clubhouse used to look before we earned the funds to upgrade.

We don’t need to check the menu since we’ve eaten here so many times. Still, we glance at the tattered menus, making small talk as we wait for our server.

After the waitress takes our order, I ask, “Why do you seem jumpy today?”

“Were you at church last night?”

I frown. “Unfortunately. But we talked about that last night.”

“We didn’t finish. Frost is gonna get somebody killed.” Dimples’ eyebrows raise with her voice. “You!”

I give Dimples a questioning look.

Her face reddens, and she tears at her napkin. “Put a territory patch on our vests, and it’ll be an enormous target on our backs—you’ll have the biggest one.”

I reach across the table and put my hand on top of hers, stopping her from shredding her napkin. “Since Aces is gone, you’re the only one I trust. Period.”

“Always.” She smiles, and it makes me believe everything will be okay. “I polished my bike last night.”

Anyone else would’ve thought Dimples’ comment was random, but I know her well. Whenever she’s stressed, she polishes her bike.

I grin. “So you’ve figured it all out?”

“Not quite, but I’ve thought about it more than you have.”

“I had plenty of time to think. Nancy wasn’t that good.”

“Naomi.” Dimples gives me a stern look.

“Oh, yeah.” I chuckle. I’d used the wrong name just to get a rise out of her. “Only explanation I came up with is she hates me worse than I realize. She’s not gotten over Aces supporting me for president, but enough to want me dead?”

A lump catches in my throat as I remember the day Aces turned over the gavel and keys to me. She’d served as president for twenty-eight years, from when she founded the club in 1997 until she stepped down after her cancer diagnosis. Aces’ words rattle in my head. I’ve led you the best I could. Now Storm takes the chair. Back her the way you backed me. And may she serve as long as I did. I love you, kid.

Dimples put her hand on my arm. “She believed in you. I believe in you. Frost can never take that away.”

“But Frost wants to make me look bad. Weak! She wants to fucking make me look weak.” My jaw tenses. “And get the girls to lose confidence in me. But they know putting a territory patch on our backs is suicide. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” Dimples hunkers in her seat.

I narrow my eyes. “What?”

“I was talking to the prospect, and she overheard things last night. Frost’s territory patches have some of the girls thinking—dreaming.”

“The fuck. That’s just dangerous.” I shake my head. “She’s playing with fire.”

Dimples’ eyes flash. “And the bitch played us at the pre-church meeting.”