Page 4 of Ryder's War

“‘Cause it’s really hard to keep it there when I get reminded every single time I look into someone’s face. Even badass bikers aren’t good at hiding their emotions when it comes to shit like this. It’s harder on them than me, ‘cause they think of themselves as protectors.”

Trying to understand, Tiffany murmured, “Naturally, they would want to protect you. You’re Ryder’s sister, and they care about you.”

“No, most of them really don’t. They’re not good at dealing with me ‘cause I’m a constant reminder of their failure to protect a brother’sfamily. Don’t you see, it’s their own failure that they can’t seem to get past.”

Surprise at the girl’s depth of insight filled her, and Tiffany said, “Are you sure you’re only sixteen? You seem older.” She held her breath for Rose’s reaction, hoping maybe humor would help them both navigate this really screwed-up conversation.

Rose cracked a smile. “You don’t treat me like I’m shattered.”

Grasping at the humor straw, Tiffany responded with a shrug of one shoulder. “I’ve been through rough times myself. Girls like us are fractured, not broken.”

Folding her arms over her chest, Rose gave her a full-on smile. “Leave it to a nurse to come up with a saying like that.”

Trying to smother a smile, Tiffany shook her head. “Women are a heck of a lot tougher than the men in our lives give us credit for. We keep families together, nurse our men when they’re down, and suffer the pain of childbirth. I’d like to see a man do all that and not have a total nervous breakdown in the process.”

Laughing, Rose agreed. “You’re right; women totally kick solid ass.”

“It’ll have to be our little secret though. Their fragile little male egos couldn’t handle knowing how superior we are.”

A deep voice sounded off behind them. “You ladies are laying it on a little thick today, aren’t ya?”

Rose shoved her hands into her jean pockets and whirled around to face her father. She laughed at the stern look on his face and ad-libbed like a pro. “Ven, the wise and merciful, please excuse the flapping of our self-aggrandizing, lipstick-laden lips.”

The man frowned at her. “You know I hate it when you use my club name.”

With an intense stare, she deadpanned, “I could start making up names for you, old man, but I don’t think you’d like that very much.”

Grinning, he motioned for her come with him. “You got me there, girl. Now, shut your mouthy little pie hole and get back to the party. This is going to be the last cookout of the year.”

Tiffany took a step forward. “I never cared for Halloween, but cookouts are kind of cool.”

Rose shifted around to look at her with an expression that said this was not the correct attitude to have about a holiday the club was clearly crazy about. Unsure how to backpedal out of this one, Tiffany just stared at the teen.

“I’m sure you haven’t had a proper introduction to All Hallows’ Eve.” Dodging left, Rose brought up both hands into claws and used her witch’s voice. “All the little kiddies love All Hallow’s Eve. It’s the one night of the year,” she continued with the silly voice, zigzagging back and forth like a snake, “when dead leaves fly, like witches on switches through the night.”

Laughing, Tiffany pulled the girl out the back. “I think Behn’s poem says flint, not fly, through the night.”

Straightening herself up, the girl giggled as she righted her hat. “I like my way better. What do you think, old man?”

Clearly fed up with her shenanigans, he replied playfully, “I think your mother filled you a plate, so you should come and eat. You too, Tiff. I told Ryder that I’d look out for you while he was gone.”

Tiffany smiled. That sounded like something her overprotective biker would ask. It would also explain why it took so long to fetch the car earlier.

Rose grabbed her hand and pulled her along to the back of the lot where a utility trailer with a built-in barbecue pit was churning out three different kinds of meat, and people were milling around a half-dozen picnic tables. Music blaredfrom huge speakers with thumping base. All in all, it was the perfect day for a party.

Dropping into a seat beside Ryder’s mother, Tiffany gave the skittish woman a quiet greeting. “Hello, Lily. I like your Halloween T-shirt. How are you doing?”

Looking nervously down at her T-shirt with zombie bikers, Lily stammered, “I-I’m fine. Is everything okay with Ryder?” Even after fifteen years as an MC wife, Lily still carried herself like she was borrowing someone else's life. It reminded Tiffany of herself in those early society wife days—before she'd learned that some cages were made of diamonds instead of steel.

Tiffany nodded. She had a hard time reconciling herself with the fact this timid, petit woman had given birth to Ryder, but she knew she had because the family had proudly shown her their photo albums when she’d arrived in their small town. It hadn’t escaped her notice that Lily was always looking away or seemed a little terrified in each image. In fact, the poor woman always seemed as if she was about ready to scurry off like a frightened little squirrel.

“He’s just fine. Ace’s gun misfired, and he caught a single bullet in the leg. I patched him, and Ryder and Darkness took him to the hospital. Ryder was his normal, surly self when they pulled out,” Tiffany informed her.

A tiny smile played around Lily’s impish features. “My Ryder is his father made over.”

“I’d have to agree with you on that.”

“If he hadn’t met you, I don’t think he would have made it. Thanks for taking care of my baby in the big city.”

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