Page 114 of Ridin’ Dirty

I didn’t get the chance before Max tried to shift the vibe beginning to cloud the room. With a wide smile, she laughed softly and replied, “Oh, I think y’all misunderstood. I’m not on the menu.”

“Not yet. But I’m bettin’ that can be arranged.”

As the scary one spoke, he slowly dragged his gaze up and down Maxine’s body in a way that made even me uncomfortable. I wished we weren’t on neutral ground but in the parameters of Stallion territory, putting us on their patrol route. It was my man and Fury out on their hogs that night.

“Hey—you okay?” I asked, walking over to stand with Max.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, folding her arms across her chest. “They were just sayin’ their goodbyes.”

The men hesitated long enough for me to notice none of them held a rank worthy of a patch on the front of their kuttes. Though, the menacing one called Joker seemed to be the ringleader. When he moved to get up, the others followed.

“Night, princess. Don’t worry, we’ll be back.”

The others headed for the door right away, but Joker towered over Max a moment longer, as if sending a warning I couldn’t quite understand. He lifted a hand to touch her cheek, but stopped when Viv called out, “Touch her. I dare you.”

I watched as his eyes sought the woman behind the voice, seeing it when he found her where she’d been working quietly at the bar. Joker smirked sardonically then dropped his hand back to his side and finally made his way toward the exit.

“You okay, baby?” called Viv as soon as the door shut behind them.

“I’m fine. Really.”

Viv nodded then began to gather her paperwork from off the bar as she commanded, “Finish up. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

I waited until her mother disappeared through the kitchen’s swinging door before asking, “What’s their deal? Why do they seem so familiar with you?”

Max merely shrugged, avoiding my gaze as she moved to the next nearest table. “They’re just trying to get under my skin.”

“They called you princess. Is this about you being the president’s daughter? I think⁠—”

“It’s no more a secret who I am than it is one of them is your brother. Things the way they are right now, they’re just trying to start shit.” She paused long enough to look me in the eye. “Trust me, it’s not a big deal. We can’t let them get to us.”

I nodded, a part of me understanding she was right.

But there was another part of me, a bigger part of me, that thought it was weird.

While on some level it could make sense to target Nighthawk’s daughter, he wasn’t the one the Kings suspected. He wasn’t the one they kidnapped and beat to a pulp. Not that I was signing up for it, but it made more sense for them to come after me. I’m the one who threw myself between Riley and Carmine. If they wanted to get him to talk, I practically drew the target on my back.

I didn’t share my thoughts with Max as we finished restocking the last few tables, but I made a mental note to ask Riley about his thoughts on the matter later.

In no mood to wait out the tail end of Riley’s patrol shift at the clubhouse, after Viv, Max and I parted ways from the diner, I went home. As soon as I killed the engine of my Mustang, I shot him a text, letting him know where I was.

Riley promised he’d make space for my ride in the garage before the first snow. It was hardly a grand romantic gesture, but it still made me smile thinking of it as I strolled inside. Men didn’t make room for women they didn’t plan on keeping around. His promise was another reminder I was no longer a loose end on which he was keeping tabs. I was his wife.

For now, it was enough to make me happy.

I changed into a pair of sleep shorts and one of his old, faded, Harley Davidson tees, dished myself a bowl of gelato, and watched two episodes of Beat Bobby Flay, before I heard the familiar rumble of my man’s hog. I paused the beginning of the next episode and got up off the couch, taking my empty bowl to the kitchen sink where I rinsed it and set it aside.

As soon as Riley opened the back door, Reaper proceeded him inside, coming straight for me. I never really thought of myself as a dog person, but having earned Reaper’s love and affection, I knew I never wanted to be without it again.

“Hi, pretty girl,” I greeted, reaching down to scratch around her ears.

“Hübsches mädchen,” said Riley as he followed after his pup.

“Hmm?” I hummed, looking up at him, my hands still busy loving on Reaper.

“Pretty girl—hübsches mädchen.”

“Hübsches mädchen,” I repeated, not nearly as well as him.