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I nodded, grabbing Zach’s hand and holding it tight between mine. “Just us.”
“I know our parents are getting older. We’re all getting older but today…”
“It scared you.” I linked our fingers. “I get that, Zach. No one wants anything to happen to their parents. Ours aren’t getting any younger but they are still pretty young.”
“They are.”
“And your dad is healthy. Besides the heart defect of course.”
“True.” Zach brought our joined hands up to his mouth, placing a soft peck on my knuckles. “Thank you for being so fucking amazing.”
I laughed, my cheeks heating. “I’m really not but you’re welcome.”
“You are.” Zach put the car into park. “Ready?”
To spend the night with you and help you feel better? Oh yeah. “I am.”
He winked. “Good.”
We slipped from the vehicle.
Zach came around to my side of the car and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Hey, I think that’s my uncle’s crew.”
I followed his gaze, finding several motorcycles parked by one of the bottom floor rooms. “Is Jaron still the vice-president?”
“He is,” Zach answered. “He’ll be president when his dad retires.”
We had grown up with Jaron Mercer but with him being from another town a few hours from us, we didn’t see him often. Especially not now that we were older.
“Did you want to go say hi?” I asked Zach, linking my arm in his.
“Let’s get a room first and then we will.”
We headed to reception and Zach got us a room rather quickly. Thankfully the rooms weren’t booked completely. Apparently once people found out that there were bikers staying at the hotel, they decided to go elsewhere. But personally, I would rather be by bikers. It was safer that way.
“Now we can go say hi.” Zach stuffed the key cards in his pocket and held out his hand.
I slid my fingers in his, letting him lead the way.
We headed back outside to where the bikes were parked when a younger man left a room, followed by several other guys. They all wore leather cuts with the Hell’s Harlem logo on the backs. The skull with black eyes looked almost like it was grinning every time they moved.
The younger man who left the room first, lit up a smoke and leaned against the wall. He looked our way, recognition dawning on his face.
“Zach Porter. Motherfucker.” He pushed off the wall and came toward us. “How are you?”
“Good, Sammy. You?” Zach gave the guy a one-armed hug, keeping his other hand still locked in mine.
“Not too bad. Your uncle has us doing a ride. Apparently, we’ve been on edge lately.” The man, Sammy, shrugged. “I don’t know. I just follow orders.”
Zach chuckled. “Right.” He glanced down at me. “Luna, this is Sammy Butcher. Sammy, Luna.”
Sammy stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” I said, returning the handshake.
“Jaron’s here.” Sammy nodded to the door he had come out of. “Wanna come say hi and have a beer?”
Zach looked down at me.
