Page 126 of Being Lost

Then when Ink reaches out his hand and Lost and him do some weird handshake involving thumbs interlinked, I realise they’ve not been properly introduced before.

“This is my… biker-in-law,” I remember at the last moment, like me and Lost, they’ve not tied the knot officially. “And my daughter, Beth.”

“Kind of got that,” Lost drawls. “You’re both welcome.”

“Mom, I’ve been planning it all the way down here.” As Ink rolls his eyes, I guess he bore the brunt of whatever she’s talking about.

“Planning what?” I prompt.

“Now you can be there, Ink and I will be getting married. Soon, while I can still fit into a nice dress.”

Now I’m passed back from Lost to Beth as her arms wrap around me once again. My tears join hers. Happy tears, of course.

To my great delight, Ink and Beth decide to take a mini vacation in California and stay at the club for a few days. I end up grateful for Beth’s help, in addition to that of Alex and Eva, when I do take on my formal duties of old lady and I start planning the logistics of Smoker’s funeral.

The loss of a Satan’s Devils’ brother is a big deal, I find, particularly when he lost his life defending his brothers. Not only was everyone in our chapter going to attend but also contingents from Utah, Colorado, Vegas and Arizona. The question of housing them all caused a few headaches, not to mention all the food to be delivered and prepared. Connor helped Wrangler and Curtis with the gallons of beer they delivered, the amount unbelievable, but heaven forbid they should chance running out.

Smoker had served his country many years back, so the Patriot Riders were going to attend to pay respects to their fallen comrade.

There must have been well over a hundred bikes lining the route as the hearse took Smoker to the crematorium on the day of his funeral. That wasn’t his final journey, however, as he returned strapped to the back of Lost’s bike, his ashes to be spread in the hills behind the compound. Smoker was home. He was finally at rest.

“You did good,” Lost tells me when we’ve waved the last of the visiting bikers away. The clubhouse seems almost silent now, with just the San Diego men.

“I’m just pleased it’s over.” Lost doesn’t ask me to explain. There’s a lot that I’m glad is in my rearview now. Organising and overseeing Smoker’s wake had thrown me fully into being the prez’s old lady, and I’d been worried about messing it up. I’d been introduced to so many bikers I couldn’t remember all the names, except for the scariest one, the prez of the mother chapter, Drummer, whose steely stare had had me at a loss for words. Until his old lady introduced herself, and we were soon discussing her two little boys. Yes, the last couple of days had been stressful, making sure the arrangements all went off without a hitch, which they did, and making Lost proud of me as his old lady, which it seems, I had.

I lean my elbows on the railing, and look out toward the ocean, as the last days and weeks go through my head. Of course, I’m also pleased not to have to worry about Alder. And, there’s a tiny part of me, that was pleased when Beth returned to Colorado. I loved seeing her but wanted to spend time with my man.

For the first time in days, Lost and I had time to ourselves, and had come out for what he correctly called, wind therapy.

“Are you okay, Lost?” I know there’s something niggling at him.

“I don’t like an unsolved mystery,” he admits. “One day, Patsy, I’ll find out. I’ll find the motherfucker who killed Alder.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to just leave it?” I turn around to face him. “Alder’s dead, so’s Phil. We’ve got our life ahead of us.”

He looks over my head, out toward the Pacific glistening in the distance. “Drummer’s uneasy.”

The mention of his name makes me shiver. Nice guy. If he was on your side, that is. I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him if he hardened those steely-grey eyes. I admire Sam coping with him.

“Why is he uneasy?”

“Because the same darn thing happened to Demon in Colorado.” As I raise my eyes with my brow furrowed, Lost nods. “There was a man, a fucker who dealt in the skin trade, and by that, I’m not meaning fur. Demon’s crew caught him. He was taken out with one shot from a sniper rifle before they could deal with him.”

“Like Alder?” I’d managed to get the details out of him one night by using my womanly wiles. Seems like my man will do a lot for a blow job.

“Two clubs, two identical hits?” I start to see why Drummer’s worried.

“Only good thing is that the fucker seems to be on the right side.”

“Yours,” I breathe.

But he contradicts, “Not ours, babe. Just not on the side of the fuckers who look on women as commodities.”

“What does Demon think?”

Lost shrugs. Whether he knows the Colorado prez’s thoughts or not, he’s not going to share. Instead, he starts toying with my hair. When he leans in and kisses me, his semi-hard cock makes its presence known against the material of his jeans.

I’m not surprised when his next words are, “Come on, babe. Let’s get back. There’s something I want to show you.”

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