Page 33 of One Night with the Biker

“I’ll call one of the guys,” she said.

Disappointed in myself, I sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m fine, Ainsley. Go do what you need to do to feel better.” I certainly couldn’t fucking help her. “Close my door. I need a little privacy.”

Her shoulders slumped, but she nodded and did as told.

When Louisiana walked out of the closet, his blazing anger shocked me.

I’d kicked a motherfucker to death once. Louisiana had a blade and probably a gun, but one good blow to the head would do the trick.

Fists balled, he started pacing.

“What? You don’t get enough attention atyourfucking club?”

He halted. “What?”

“You’ve heard more than you needed to. You shared that you wanted Trinity fucked up by my hand because you’re such a sterling friend. What more do you want?”

“You were flat on your fucking back when I climbed through the window. You’ve been reinvigorated.”

I shrugged.

“Are you killing that motherfucker?”

“To whom do you refer and what’s it to you?”

“Boom Boom and nothing. Just curious.”

“I’d never kill my own president,” I lied with a straight face. Unless he crossed one particular line. He had.

“Then you’re a pathetic jackass,” he said flatly.

Anger burned me. He was another score to settle. “I’ve been called worse.”

“I should just kill you.”

“Dump my body out the window when you do.”

“I want you to fear me. I want you to shake and tremble as I imagined my little brother doing. I’d leave your fucking body right here, fuckhead.”

“Ainsley would find me,” I said patiently.

“She needs to grow the fuck up.”

I clenched my jaw. Ainsley made a mistake when she allowed her temper to get the best of her. I knew better. I couldn’t back up threats with actions for the time being so I’d bide my time.

“You and your fucking den of depravity,” he whispered, low. “I should kill you like the fucking mongrel you are. You’re not killing Boom Boom because you’re just like him. You killed Trinity.”

Despite the offense, I offered another shrug. It was the best show of nonchalance I could give. “You aren’t much different,” I said with a small smile. “Who revealed her dirty little secrets?”

“I wanted you to die when you were in the pit. When Reese didn’t pull the trigger, I almost did. I hate you and your entire fucking organization. I’ll see you dead by hook or crook and this time Reese won’t be able to save you.”

He backed to the window and slipped out as stealthily as he entered. It was ten minutes before I realized the picture of Ainsley had been stolen from the frame.

My father had been a huge football fan. I’d entered Chiefs Kingdom as a tyke and never left. Whenever I visited Chiefs Nation, it reminded me of the person I’d once been, the oldest son in a family of five with a school janitor mom and a truck driver dad.

We hadn’t had a lot, but we’d always had clean clothes, hot food, and a lot of love. Until it was stolen from me by smoke and fire. I’d slept over at my best friend’s house and escaped the wrath of flames. Bolt and Ma Siller took in my traumatized thirteen-year-old self and added me to their brood of six. All three of his daughters were married. One of his sons was killedfour years ago in a motorcycle accident and the other two remained in the club.

I’d gotten the Siller family into football and it was a tradition that continued to this day. Arriving back at the club fresh off a Chiefs win left me stoked. I’d spent the weekend at the house with Ma, Bolt, Knight, and Baron because I didn’t want to be at the club, thinking about Ainsley and how she’d looked when she opened the door to us.

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