Page 113 of One Night with the Biker

“I hate to burst your bubble, Roman,” Bash went on. “But this isn’t a romance novel. One of my favorites,Wills and Throttleby Daria Monroe, is about an attorney who’s married to a biker but falls in love with the president of an enemy club. Her husband’s a fucking stupid dickhead, but she still his. Fucking over him is a death sentence for her and the motherfucker she’s cheating with. Get my fucking drift?”

“Reading romance novels are for pussies and bitches,” Roman said, though amusement threaded through the words.

Bash snickered. “I’m not wasting my fucking breath defending my reading choices, fuckhead. You neither pay for them nor have to read them, so shut the fuck up.”

“Touché.” Roman leaned forward. “What can I do to protect London?”

“Oho, here we go,” Bash chortled. “Finally, getting to the heart of the matter.”

Easton pressed a button on his phone. “Offer to buy her,” he ordered.

I choked.

“Excuse me?” Roman asked.

“You want her, buy her,” Easton said flatly, then pressed his phone screen again, and I realized he’d muted the conversation.

“I’ll give you fifty grand for her,” Roman blurted.

“In addition to the rest of the money you owe me for my help?”

“Yes.”

“And our other agreement?”

“Yes.”

“I think you did fuck her,” Bash said. “No man’s paying that much for a cunt that’s not giving him pussy.”

“Tio doesn’t want her, Bash,” Easton said. “We both know that.”

“I was hoping some of her goodness would rub off on your brother,” Bash admitted, sighing. “I’d hate for that little motherfucker to end up like me, all alone and wishing he had a bitch to love him no matter what.”

Roman shook his head in disbelief. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe, but who gives a fuck? Can’t have a bitch who loves me if I don’t like bitches,” Bash said. “Since I like you so fucking much, Roman, this is my offer. I’ll keep her safe until you get Ainsley back. Once that matter is taken care of and Ainsley is with you, dead or alive, you have a week to bring me two hundred fifty thousand dollarspluswhat you owe me—”

“You want a quarter of a million dollars for London?” Roman demanded, sounding as appalled as I felt.

“If you don’t survive,” Bash continued, ignoring Roman’s question, “or if you take longer than seven days, I fuck her then return her to Tio.”

“I don’t have a quarter of a million dollars, Bash,” Roman said. “But I can get you a supply of coke by tonight that’ll last you for a week. It was our original deal. I can get you fifty grand when this is settled.”

“I might slap her around anyway,” Bash declared. “At the least, she sucked your cock and you won’t make me believe otherwise.”

“You said she could,” Roman said. “Although she didn’t. She never offered and I would’ve declined if she had.”

Bash growled. “You’re a fucking liar.”

“She has a brother, Bash,” Roman said in a patient tone, not addressing Bash’s accusation. “He’s five years older than her and she misses him but doesn’t see him because he hates Tio and your kid threatened to kill him. She wants to protect her big brother.”

“Are you shitting me?” Bash asked with suspicion.

I thought Roman was lying too, until he shook his head and raised the mechanical hand as if Bash could see. “I swear on my father’s grave. She’s someone little sister.”

“And motherfucking Tio kept her away from her brother?” Bash demanded.

“He did,” Roman said, lowering his hand.

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