Page 8 of Piston

I'd jerked back, wiping my mouth. "Shit, I'm sorry Dag. I don't think I can do this."

To his credit, he backed off immediately. Ran a hand over his mohawk with a rueful laugh. "Yeah, that was weird as fuck, wasn't it? Like kissing my sister or something."

"Guess that makes you the uglier sister," I'd quipped. And just like that, we were back to normal. Buddies. Family.

Tuning back into the conversation, I caught Dagger in the middle of another lewd gesture. "...I'm telling you man, the clap is fucking brutal. Felt like pissing razor blades for a week straight."

I pull a face, reaching over to slug him in the arm. "Dude, seriously? I'm gonna vomit in my drink." Some things never change.

But as Dagger launches into yet another TMI story, I can't help the warmth spreading in my chest. These assholes - they’re my assholes.

Didn't matter that I'd never have a cut of my own. I belonged here. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Damn Dag, that crazy bitch really did a number on your ride, huh?" I shake my head, picturing the scene he's describing - two slashed tires and a beat to hell Harley. "What'd you do, run over her dog or something?"

Dagger snorts, taking a swig of his beer. "Nah, more like I wouldn't return her calls after she went all stage-five clinger on me. Chick was off her rocker."

"Sounds like you sure know how to pick 'em," Mason chimed in with a grin, elbowing Dagger in the ribs. "What is this, like the third time this month you've had a broad go batshit on you?"

"What can I say? The ladies love me." Dagger puffed out his chest, preening like a damn peacock. "Not my fault they can't handle all this raw masculine energy."

I nearly choked on my drink, spluttering with laughter. "Raw masculine energy? More like raw stupidity, you mean."

Tank guffawed, slapping his meaty palm on the table. "She's got you there, brother. Your dick's gonna fall off one of these days if you keep sticking it in crazy."

The whole table erupted into raucous laughter, Dagger included. He flipped Tank the bird, but there was no real heat behind it.

This right here - this was what I lived for. The easy back-and-forth, the inside jokes, the sense that no matter what shit life threw our way, we had each other's backs.

I leaned back in my chair, basking in the warmth of belonging. The Iron Reapers may not be perfect, but they were the closest thing to a real family I'd ever had.

And I'd ride or die for every last one of these beautiful bastards, no question.

My eyes drifted around the table, landing on each familiar face in turn. Mason, with his crooked grin and mischievous eyes. Tank, built like a brick shithouse but with a heart of gold. And Dagger, the lovable idiot who somehow always managed to land himself in the most ridiculous situations.

These men had seen me at my worst, and they'd never once turned their backs on me. They knew the darkness that lurked in my past, the demons I still wrestled with every damn day, and they accepted me anyway.

Carlie caught my eye from across the table, her lips quirking up in a knowing smile. She tilted her head toward Dagger, whowas now regaling the group with yet another tale of his sexual misadventures.

"Five bucks says this one ends with him getting his ass kicked by an angry boyfriend," she murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.

I snorted, shaking my head. "No way. I'm not taking that bet. It's a foregone conclusion."

We shared a laugh, the sound mingling with the din of the bar. Carlie had been my rock since the day I'd first stumbled into Perdition, lost and broken and looking for a place to belong. She'd taken me under her wing, showed me the ropes, and somewhere along the way, she'd become the sister I never had.

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics - upcoming rides, new ink, the latest club gossip - I let myself relax, sipping my drink and soaking in the camaraderie. This was what I'd been missing for so long, the sense of belonging that came from being part of something bigger than myself.

I may not have a patch on my back, but the Iron Reapers were my family, my home. And I knew that no matter what the future held, I'd always have a place here among these wild, loyal, fiercely protective men.

My gaze drifted across the room, and I froze as I caught sight of Piston. He was leaning against the bar, his brooding presence a stark contrast to the laughter and chatter surrounding me. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I felt a familiar spark of electricity before I quickly looked away, my heart racing.

I tried to focus on the conversation at hand, but my thoughts kept wandering back to Piston. We had a complicated history, a push and pull that left me off-balance and unsure. I couldn't deny the attraction between us, but I also couldn't forget the hurt he'd caused me in the past.

"Earth to Jenny!" Carlie's voice snapped me out of my reverie. "You okay there, girl? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I shook my head, forcing a smile. "I'm fine. Just lost in thought for a second."

Carlie followed my gaze, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Piston. "Ah, I see. Still hung up on tall, dark, and brooding over there, huh?"

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