Page 14 of Toxic Biker

He’s talking about when he would stay over at our house with Seth and we’d all be forced to freeze watching them play. “No, it’s just early, you weren’t in your room, and now you’re telling me there was all your biker friends here with you…however, there’s no one around here.”

Ripper interrupts, as he grabs his coffee cup. “We’re brothers, not biker friends. As for church, we keep ol’ ladies out of business. Everyone went to work or back to bed.” He opens the other donut boxes, showing me they’re already empty, so apparently, he’s telling the truth.

I’m quiet, processing everything. I wasn’t doubting Asher’s sincerity; I’m just a little scatterbrained after yesterday and waking up in a strange place with new people. Asher stands, and I take in his faded jeans, white T-shirt, and leather vest. He tugs a bandana out of his pocket, “Let’s go for a ride. Your dad had an address for me to check out.”

“Was this before or after you threatened to burn all of his belongings?”

He shrugs, unperturbed, while Ripper chuckles. “If you heard the same shit from him that I did, you’d want to set something on fire too.”

“Doubtful.”

“You gonna bust my balls all day, or do you want to see what we can find out?”

I stand up, not about to be left at the clubhouse without him. He comes up behind me and ties my long hair back in his black bandanna. “Should put a cut on her,” Ripper rumbles from the side.

“Nah, don’t want to do that to her.”

“It’s already been done. The vote went through. She’s property.”

I have no idea what they’re discussing, but me and property in the same sentence doesn’t make me the most excited. “You’re not trying to sell me off to the cartel for my brother, are you? Surely Dad offered to send money instead?”

Ripper laughs, grabbing his coffee and walking off. He calls behind him, “You better educate her, brother. You got a long ride ahead of you.”

“What’s he talking about?”

“Nothing,” Asher grumbles, grabbing my hand and towing me behind him towards the door. “And of fucking course not, to you being traded for Seth. I’d trade him for you any day, though. I need my payment, and he doesn’t have a pretty pink pussy I want to dive into.”

With a huff, I swat his arm. “Not the right time for jokes.”

“Who says I’m joking?” he murmurs while stopping at the garage adjacent to the clubhouse. He goes inside while I wait next to the door, and a few moments later, he comes back with a tube of something, wearing a grin. His free hand lands on my shoulder and then he’s moving me, spinning me in a one-eighty, until my back is to him. A beat later, I start to feel his fingers trailing over my back and I’m instantly curious as to what he could possibly be doing. Don’t get me wrong, I love having his attention, but I’m also a bit confused.

“What are you doing?”

“PuttingRBMCon your back.”

“Ugh, excuse me? With what?”

“I’m painting the letters on with some black grease.”

I screech, I can’t help it. I must be hallucinating. “Y-you’re painting my shirt with grease? To what, brand me?” I hiss. In grease, no less? Seriously, what kind of chest-beating macho man bullshit is this? I know he’s a prickly guy; I’ve gotten used to that part of him since yesterday, but putting the motorcycle club initials on my back is taking things a little far, in my opinion.

He wipes his hand on a shop towel and shrugs unapologetically. He’s entirely too amused at my shock of the situation and if I wasn’t so stressed out, I’d probably find the entire thing hilarious. Then I’d most likely try to paint him in return, but this isn’t a finger-painting session with my love interest, this is him essentially putting a brand on me before we search for Seth.

“You’re on my bike and around the club. People need to know you’re not just some sweetbutt.”

“I have no idea what that means. Or half of your club lingo, I thought the new teenage razz crap was bad, but you all have your own language as well. It’s official—I’m not cool anymore. I’m complaining about slang.Geezus.”

He chuckles, tapping his finger on the tip of my nose like I’m some sort of an adorable kitten to him. “A club slut, baby doll. Everyone needs to know you’reRBMC property, so hands off of you, or I’ll fucking remove them for touching you.”

Okay, what was feeling a bit piggish is now starting to get me hot over it. I kinda want to kiss his face off and fuck his brains out for saying he’d remove their hands for touching me. I think being around these bikers has me loosening my moral compass a bit, and I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.

“Where are we going?” I say instead and climb on the loud, dangerous metal machine behind him.

“Getting you some fucking pants for starters, or I’ll be removing eyeballs along with the goddamn hands.”

“Territorial much?”

“Oh sugar, you have no fucking idea just how territorial I can be when it comes to you.”

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