Page 72 of One Night with the Biker

The relief I felt was so absurd that I laughed. It was getting late and Reese wouldn’t leave unless he had his way, so I stepped aside and signaled he go in. I thought his racking the slide a little over the top but I remained quiet.

Several minutes later, he returned and indicated the all clear with a wave of his gun. I kept thetold youto myself. It galled me when Roman or Nova threw that at me. Reese and I were alike in a lot of ways, so I’d bet he’d be less than pleased at that boast.

He holstered his gun, took two hundred dollar bills out of his wallet, then stuffed them into the pocket on my jeans. “Check in at the hotel up there on Minnesota Avenue when you get off from work.”

“Roman won’t mind if I stay here.”

“Will you let me stay with you?”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Then until I arrange something better, check in there. It’s not far from the club, so it’ll be easier to get away if you need me. I’ll just be a short distance.”

If not for that tangle of highways all converging near the Kansas River, Reese’s club would be within walking distance of the hotel.

“I’ll do it tonight,” I said primly, thrilled that we’d spend another night making love.

He gave me a quick kiss, then lit a cigarette. “Don’t be long getting your stuff. I have a lot of shit to do today.”

Curiosity almost got the best of me, but Roman had drummed it into me that the less I knew, the better. “Can I have my .357 please?”

“Shit, I almost forgot. Glad you remembered. You need the protection.”

“I can’t bring my gun to work, Reese.” He frowned, but I raised my hands to forestall another discussion. “When I return later, I’ll keep it close by.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, flicked ashes into the wind, and stalked to his saddlebags.

I ended up not arriving “first thing that morning” as I’d promised Razor, but I wouldn’t have concentrated if I didn’t assure myself of Ainsley’s safety, which included escorting her to work. The key card entry and iron fencing around the play yard eased my concerns, though the niggling in my gut persisted.

If not for logistics, I would’ve forced her back to the cabin and handcuffed her to the bed. The only way to do that would’ve been to snatch her keys and strong arm her into her car. I had handcuffs in my saddlebags, but not rope, which I needed to tie her to the seat so she wouldn’t escape.

Besides, not knowing the outcome of the meeting with Razor left me at a disadvantage. Even if everything fell into place and I could’ve gotten her back to the cabin, if Razor killed me, she’d die, too. If they went to the cabin and unlocked her cuffs, they’d kill her anyway. Chances were, they’d sentence her to a worse fate and allow her to die from a lack of water.

So I hugged her tight, kissed her hard, and told her I’d talk to her later. I should’ve prepared her for the worse. Except I didn’t want to worry her. We were both in precarious situations, exposed and vulnerable to the wrath of the Royal Bastards and the Bloody Scorpions.

When I walked into the clubhouse and saw most of the members already seated, I winced. Razor stood at the podium glaring at me.

Knight, Bolt’s son and one of our Enforcers, clicked the lock in place and nodded to the long counter running the length of the wall just inside the door. I disarmed myself and placed my guns and knives in one of the few remaining empty spots.

All eyes were on me as I headed to Razor. The disapproval and mistrust wafting in the air felt surreal. Razor and I rarely gave up our weapons. My job was to protect him. I was big and bad enough to do it with my fists, but the odd fuckhead tested my authority from time-to-time.

Pretending shit was normal, I ignored everyone and walked to my president. I wanted to take my usual spot near the podium, arms folded, gaze roaming over the membership. Razor stared at me, cold and unwelcoming, anger lighting his eyes. I waited for him to speak or to punch me, but his frozen glower and his lack of movement chilled me.

“Is it true, Reese?” Bolt finally asked.

At his distressed tone, I regretted not calling him as I’d intended. I’d been so fucking angry with Razor, then Ainsley came out and I forgot everything else.

“Yeah,” I said finally, turning my head slightly but still unable to see him. “Roman Mac’s sister is pregnant with my kid.”

“Good job,” Baron, Bolt’s younger son, called. He’d always been an ally, even when Knight wasn’t, which was most of the fucking time. “Let that motherfucker choke on that. Not only does he have to live the rest of his miserable existence without hands, he’ll spend his days knowing that bitch betrayed him.”

I stiffened, an automatic reaction at such disrespect toward Ainsley.

“Does he know?” The glee in Warrior’s tone annoyed me. “I heard he’s away. On a run.”

Grumbles rose up at that news. My chopping his hands off was meant to sideline him so he wouldn’t pose a threat to us.

“He knows,” I said flatly, almost certain Razor filled Warrior in on our conversationifthe motherfucker hadn’t been listening in the first place. “And, yes, he is.”

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