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Talon
From the time Gate had his meet with Widow Maker and found out that Spider had backing like the club had never seen, time passed in a blur.
The brothers patrolled in shifts, nobody having a night off.
The schedule was even worse once the club got eyes on Moose. He was close. Not overstepping enough to make waves, but close enough that brothers in other clubs were aware of his presence.
Gate wasn’t sure what to make of that and neither was Talon, but they both agreed with Maker. No good was gonna come of it.
The brothers watched over the hookers as much as they could, but as the heat on them died down, so did the brother’s protection.
Talon’s contact in Europe delivered some top notch contraband, and Brick kept the flow through the docks off the grid.
Aside from the sting of not knowing what angle the next attack would take, life for the club was good.
Money coming in. Bills paid. Brothers taking care of business.
Even a new prospect the brothers called Ruger.
Except for that itch on the back of Talon’s neck every time Jenna was around. And she was around a lot.
She was quiet about it, never in his face. But she asked her questions and smiled her smile. And Ryder soaked up the glow like sunshine.
Talon couldn’t blame him.
But he also couldn’t forget the taste of her kiss. Or the way she felt wrapped around him.
And the more he saw her, laughing with the brothers, listening to their women, playing with their kids, the more he wondered if anything he’d assumed about her had been true.
He realized that if it wasn’t, then he’d really fucked up and missed a chance with the one woman he’d met in his life who was made to belong to a biker.
And seeing her with his brother burned.
So, if she was fire, then Talon was ice, and he went so cold toward her that she never approached, not that she would have anyway.
He’d made sure of that with the way he’d treated her.
He put on a show whenever she was around, always a new babe hanging off his arm, not that he ever encouraged them further. And he damn sure didn’t take them to his bed. He’d had enough of empty.
He just watched his beauty from a distance. Studying. Learning. Even though he doubted he’d ever have a chance with her again.
Boy, was he wrong.
Chapter Sixteen
Mean Anything to You?
Two Months Later
Ryder
“Can’t believe my ass is out here babysitting a piece of fucking furniture when Steph’s got a chicken pie in the oven with my name on it,” Smoke muttered, leaning against the cargo container Brick had hauled off the freighter that afternoon, and blowing smoke from his cigarette into the air. “What is it, anyway?” he asked.
Ryder propped beside him and folded his arms across his chest, eyes scanning their remote section of the container yard. “A bed from some castle in Germany. T says it’s worth a mint, and he’s got a buyer lined up. Just waiting for delivery.”
“How’s somebody steal a bed,” Smoke wondered aloud.
