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‘Other bikers in your gang?’
Wolf laughed. ‘It ain’t a gang, actually. We like to call it a club.’
‘You can call it whatever you like.’ She hadn’t meant to sound so pointed, but she couldn’t help herself. She had a massive chip on her shoulder, and right now it felt so heavy she was struggling to stay upright.
‘There’s a big difference, though.’ Wolf was eying up one of the booths, a crowbar held firmly in his right hand. ‘Gangs are criminal enterprises. They make their money by extortion, drug dealing, people smuggling, the black market. That’s not what my club is about. Not even close.’
‘I thought all bikers were criminals.’ Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the disdain out of her voice. It was a good sign, in a way. She felt less scared than she had when she’d first seen Wolf standing there.
He snorted, as though what she’d said was evidently a joke. ‘Not even close, babygirl. Most bikers are posers, for a start. Not even part of a club, let alone a gang. Used to be, back in the day, most every biker was part of some kind of organization. Now, though, it’s just a fashion thing. You know? The leather? The patches?’ He gestured toward the collection of fabric badges which were stitched to the old denim top he wore.
‘Very fashionable,’ she said, sarcastically.
‘You’ve got a tongue like a viper on you, don’t you?’ Wolf said, shaking his head. ‘Wonder if your bite’s as bad as your bark.’
Sophia felt a pang of embarrassment as she imagined biting into Wolf’s hard, toned body. ‘No,’ she said, sheepishly. ‘I don’t bite.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ he replied.
‘S-so, whatdoyou do?’ she asked.
‘What dowe do?’
‘Your bike society. Or gang. Or whatever?’
He grinned. ‘We ride bikes. We drink. We run businesses.’ He gestured to the bar. ‘And, most importantly, we protect the things that are important to us.’ He looked deathly serious. It was a good look. The sincerity in his eyes made Sophia want to ask him more. About his past and about his present.
‘Sounds fun,’ she admitted.
‘It’s more than that,’ he said, nodding gently. ‘It’s everything. It’s freedom. It’s brotherhood. It’s family. It’s life.’ He stared out the open part of the window for a moment, lost in thought. Then, regaining composure, he turned to look at her. ‘So, Diane, what doyoudo?’
‘Me?’ The name Diane had caught her off guard.
‘Yeah, you don’t really strike me as panhandler. Not that I’ve got a problem with people asking for help, mind. Takes a lot of strength to admit that you need it.’
Should she tell the truth? She had to.
‘I… I fix soft toys.’
Wolf’s eyes widened. ‘You’re a stuffie magician?’
She couldn’t help herself; she grinned a huge grin. ‘That’s the first time anyone’s ever called it that. But, yeah, I’ll take that. Stuffie magician. I like it.’
‘I know some people who would really like to meet you,’ Wolf said. ‘Seriously. You’d be a celebrity in the circles I move in.’
‘Bikers?’
It was his turn to grin. ‘People who know bikers. Although, I know one biker who does have a stuffie or two of his own. Some of us are more in touch with our Little side than others.’
Her heart raced. Did he mean little or…Little?
It would feel so good just to be honest, open. He seemed genuinely interested in her. Like he wanted to know all about her. She imagined what it might be like to unload on Wolf. Tell him all about her past and her business. She wondered what he’d say if he knew she’d been promised as a bride to a biker ten years ago. That she was on the run, living under a false identity.
She opened her mouth, and then stopped.
You can’t trust him, Sophia. He’d use the knowledge against you somehow. Once he knows you, he can own you.
‘Well, I can do work for them if you like. But I don’t want to meet anyone, thank you.’
