Page 13 of War

“The two of you seem close.”

“We are, she’s the best,” Ora replies, smiling. “How about you?”

“Born and bred.” I grin, running my thumb across her knuckles. “My father was a member of the club, and I patched in when I was eighteen.”

I’ve always known I was going to join. I grew up at the clubhouse, and the members there are all family to me. After losing my dad to a bike accident, my mother moved to the other side of the country and remarried. But I stayed here and stepped into the same VP role that was once his.

“How old are you now?” she asks, arching her brow.

“Bit older than you,” I say, smirking. “I’m thirty-four.”

“I’m twenty-five. How come I haven’t seen you around?”

Now would be the time to tell her that I went to prison, but I don’t want to scare her off when she’s finally being open and sweet with me again.

“See a lot of us around, do you?” I tease, and she ducks her head.

“I’ve seen some of the charity events you guys do,” she admits, tucking her hair behind her ear.

I want to ask her if a nine-year age gap is too much for her, but I realize it’s too fucking late for that.

We’re in too deep. I haven’t fucked anyone else since I walked into that damn bakery. And if she didn’t leave without so much as a goodbye, I might have never fucked any of the club girls in between, either.

What’s done is done.

But one thing about me?

I always get what I want.

She turns and flashes me a pretty smile with those dimples and my heart races.

My dad always said when I met the right woman, I would know.

And Ora ismine.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ORA

After the beach, we grab a bite to eat at a nearby sushi restaurant. When we get back on his bike, I assume he’s going to take me home, but instead, we pull up at what I assume is his clubhouse. If he told me we were coming here, I would have refused because I don’t want to run into my father. Yeah, he likely wouldn’t recognize me as his own child, but it’s still a situation I am trying to avoid.

The clubhouse is massive. It’s an older two-story brick house on what looks like a lot of land. There are big electric gates at the front and fencing around the property. I can’t see any other houses—they’ve obviously chosen a place in the middle of fucking nowhere. We stop at the gates, where two men stand guard. When they see War, the gates slide open so we can ride in. War parks the bike and helps me get off, even undoing the clasp on the helmet for me. I notice it’s a new one and fits me perfectly.

“Throwing me in the deep end?” I ask, trying to fix my hair.

War laughs and takes my hand, entwining our fingers. “I thought it would be safer asking for forgiveness than permission.”

“I don’t remember you asking for either,” I mutter, and he turns back to wink at me.

“I might have to, depending on how this goes.”

I’m about to reply when we step through the doors, but instead, I close my mouth and take it all in. We walk through a dimly lit entrance leading to a bar with large, worn leather couches, pool tables, a jukebox, and even a makeshift stage. Two women at the bar are wearing tight tank tops with Serpents of Chaos MC written on them, along with the green snake from their logo. One man I’ve never seen before is sitting at the bar while the twins are playing pool.

Bones sees me first, and he quickly glances down to check my hands. “You didn’t bring me anything?” He puts the cue down and puts his hand over his heart. “I was just craving one of your rolls. You wound me, Ora.”

“She’s not your fucking delivery woman,” War growls out, which makes the man at the bar laugh out loud. He’s got dark hair tied back from his face, a short, well-trimmed beard, and violet eyes. On his cut, he wears a patch that says sergeant at arms.

“And who do we have here,” the man winks, standing up from the stool and offering me his hand. “I’m Lore.”

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