Page 340 of The Tempted

Lorraine passed away two years ago around the same time Bones became a patched member of the Satan’s Knights. He’s led me on this detour, bringing me into the fold and introducing me to the club. He’s the one who gave me my road name, and it’s because of Bones, I’ve found my place within the MC.

I owe him a lot but he’s never asked for anything other than my friendship. He’s my brother, first and foremost. Always. Until we die.

“Riggs, you know I always got you, right?” he questioned me, both verbally and with his eyes.

“I know and that shit works both ways,” I said, staring back at him, wondering where this was coming from.

He nodded thoughtfully as my phone chimed, signaling I had a text message.

“Everything okay?” I asked, as I reached into my pocket for my phone, glancing down at the screen to see Lauren’s name. I swiped my thumb across the screen and opened the message.

Kitten: Hi…so, I’ve been thinking and I think I’m ready for that detour.

I smiled slightly, about to reply when I realized I was in the middle of a conversation with my friend and he looked all sorts of weird. I lifted my eyes back to Bones.

“Jack wants to see you. They voted on whether to patch you in,” he said, solemnly.

Shit.

“You don’t look too fucking happy. They voted against me?” I asked angrily. That was fucking bullshit. I’ve done everything asked of me and then some, I proved my loyalty and I fucking deserved my patch.

Bones jumped off the table and patted my shoulder.

“Come on, let Jack explain everything,” he ordered.

Fuck that. Jack Parrish could kiss my ass. I shoved my phone into my pocket and hopped off the table. I’d go meet with my so-called brothers, but I wasn’t about to listen to some bullshit excuse why they had voted against me.

“Calm down,” Bones warned, quickening his pace to catch up with me as I charged into the Dog Pound.

“I am calm,” I seethed. I very calmly was going to fucking flip their precious, fucking table upside down.

I charged into the Chapel, Bones on my tail, and peeled off my cut that labeled me a prospect, the fucking joke of the Satan’s Knights.

“Riggs, don’t—” Bones started.

“I’m done,” I interrupted throwing my cut onto the table. “You got something you want to say?” I asked the man seated at the head of the table.

Jack raised an eyebrow, diverting his eyes back and forth between me and Bones. Then I heard Bones laugh behind me.

“What the fuck is so funny?” I asked, through gritted teeth as I glanced over my shoulder toward my friend.

They all started laughing.

Every single fucking one of them.

“What is so fucking funny?” I hissed, eyes on the Bulldog as he rose from his seat.

“The brothers and I thought it was time to vote on whether we patch you in,” he explained, as I rolled my eyes. Was he really about to sugar coat this shit for me?

“It was unanimous,” he added.

Blackie rose from his chair, walking toward the back of the room as Jack stood in front of me.

“Congratulations, you’re officially one of the Satan’s Knights,” Jack declared, taking the leather vest Blackie offered him.

I looked at the leather cut in disbelief, running my fingers over the stitching of the patches and lifted my eyes to my president’s.

“Are you fucking with me?”

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