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We sip our drinks for a moment, and I motion the waiter for another round. He nods and heads toward the bar.
“So since you’re not in any mortal danger,” she says, “why don’t you tell me what it’s like to be in an MC clubhouse?”
After drinking and laughing our way through two more rounds of drinks and some appetizers, I decide to take Rory back to the clubhouse to show her around. Dragon and Ink, who have been guarding me this whole time, have each of us ride bitch with them rather than just take an Uber back, and I realize as we’re tearing down the road, that I should try this whole riding bitch thing with Harlan next time. Snuggling up against Dragon just isn’t the same as Harlan, even if they’re both bikers. Sure, he is sexy enough, but he isn’t Harlan.
Rory had fun that day with me; I knew she’d be a hit with all the guys—and all of the days she had off from work after that. Over the next two weeks, Rory is here, and some of my other friends are too, and I’m occasionally calling into work, whenever my “captors” allow me, and I’m just having fun with life in general. I know that I’m just escaping into this world of make believe, and I know that someday, it has to end, but that day hasn’t come yet, so I can ignore that reality for now.
Something I’m perfectly happy doing.
Speaking of being perfectly happy doing something…
Harlan. I know I’ve mentioned how damn sexy he is, but really, you just don’t understand until you’ve spent the whole night in his bed, being fucked in every hole and then some. We never do have more guys in bed with us like that first night, but I’m okay with that. I’m more than okay. I’m happy with Harlan. Despite the fact that he won’t let himself be wrapped around my little pinky finger like all the rest of the guys do—or maybe because of that—I can’t stop myself from wanting him.
From falling for him.
I know the rules of this game we’re playing; nothing here counts. It’s fun, it’s exciting, it’s an escape from life. I can’t fall for my “captor.” It breaks every rule and then some.
But I can’t seem to stop myself.
And that worries me.
14
Harlan
I head back to the clubhouse on my new Harley, which as much fun as it is to ride, still isn’t the same as the one the Dark Tribe made me wrap around a telephone pole that day.
But anyway, I force myself to focus on life at hand, not on what could've been; I've finally been given the orders I've been craving for a while. Crankshaft has just told me that the Dark Tribe aren’t working for the FBI anymore; with their cover blown, the FBI has said they’re worthless now.
Something I could’ve told the FBI from the get-go, but those idiotic bastards never bothered asking me.
So, my mission is complete. I can start my own Black Fist MC chapter on Long Island; help Crankshaft build up our brotherhood there. I’ve wanted this for a long time—for forever, really. I can finally make a chapter into what I want, and start focusing on the things that matter to me.
So why does my heart hurt like shit?
Becca…
I ignore that thought. I know she won’t come with me; after all, the only reason that it was so easy to convince her to let me take her van that day in the Midtown tunnel was because she hated the commute to Long Island. She isn’t about to go there with me. She hates everything about the place.
But that shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. She’s just someone to fuck and then leave. Sure, she has the other bikers wrapped around her little pinky, fetching her frou-frou drinks with umbrellas in them at the snap of her fingers, for god’s sake, but I’m not one of those guys. I never have been. I’m not meant for that kind of life. I'm not meant to settle down.
Plus, I finally have the life that I’ve been dreaming of for a long time within my grasp. Crankshaft has been waiting to see if we can shake the Dark Tribe, if we can get rid of them and get on with our lives. I had just one mission to complete, and I did. I made it. It is time to take the victory lap that comes with that.
I speed up, tearing around the corners toward the clubhouse. It’s about time to start my new life.
15
Becca
Harlan comes walking into the clubhouse and at the sight of his confident swagger, my heart trips a little. God, I want him right now. I consider tearing his shirt off with my teeth in front of everyone, and know for a fact that at least a couple of the guys would enjoy the show.
I grin to myself. Maybe something to do later.
But when his eyes meet mine, I can see that something’s wrong. He looks…not pissed, really, but not himself. I’m staring at him, trying to figure out what’s going on, when he jerks his head toward his bedroom.
“Come on,” he says gruffly, and disappears down the hallway.
With a sad sigh, I pull my foot away from Dragon who’d been busy rubbing it into ecstasy, and promise him I’ll be right back. I was getting a foot rub, dammit! I sure hope whatever Harlan wants to talk about is worth giving that up for.
