Page 2 of Target

They screech and run toward us, the prospect right on their heels, as my dogs form a barrier around them, keeping them in line for me.

Emmi’s light blonde hair flaps in the wind behind her, matching her mother’s coloring, while Rex has dark hair that matches mine.

Just as they reach us, at their top speed, I see the second that Emmi trips over her own feet, and starts to fall forward. I rushforward, but Logan, Jack’s implant prospect catches her by the waist, holding her to him as she screams.

“Hey, I got you. You’re safe,” the blond guy murmurs, soothing my daughter.

She nods to him, then looks to me, reaching out with her hands.

I take her, nodding my thanks to the new guy. Charm looks up to him assessing him, then she huffs, stopping at my legs.

“Come on, I bet Tracie or Louise has some ice cream for you.”

“Louise always has ice cream for us,” Rex confesses.

“Oh, does she now?” I call after him and he nods while running inside.

The cool air hits us from the air conditioning, making us shiver.

“Are you okay to go now?” I hold Emmi to me, and she nods.

I set her on her feet then she splits, running to the kitchen where the only two Ol’ Ladies the club has are. Tracie belongs to Bolt and Louise belongs to Ice, the club’s medic.

Looking around, I see Racer is at the bar with one of the club girls, Jasmine, his go to girl. Our club was given a full makeover a few years ago; Tank wanted it to be updated for the new generation of Rugged Skulls coming through the club, so we added wooden flooring, dark grey walls and some brass light fixtures.

There is half a motorcycle on the wall, that was made by a local artist. Plus we have some other motorcycle memorabilia around the room along with club memories, tables, chairs, and couches.

It fits the club, not that is stays this clean after a party but hey, we are bikers and like to work hard and play hard.

In the back corner in a little nook, a pool table sits and believe me that pool table has seen some shit.

“So this is our new prospect?” Racer calls as we stop by him.

“It is. Thanks for letting him transfer. He is a good addition and we are sorry to lose him; I know my girl will miss him more.” He hugs Lilith tighter. “However, he needs to be here for some chick who has gotten herself in some shit. Her brother is in jail, leaving her to deal with his fallout. Logan wants to be here to help her out— they have history.” I see the smirk that crosses Jack’s face.

“History? What kind of history as we talking?” Racer asks the kid.

Logan steps forward, offering his hand to Pres.

“Thank you for letting me transfer.” Race looks at his hand, then to Jack, who shrugs.

“He is a polite motherfucker, I give him that.”

“Jack,” Lilith scolds him, making him pull his woman close, kissing her lips.

“I was born and raised in California, but when I was eleven my folks moved us here, and I met Valarie and her brother. They came from a shitty family, but much like me they also have a love for cars and bikes, so we clicked. We got into street racing, cars, trucks, bikes; you name it, we would race it.

“We made good money, plus I am good all-around mechanic. Give me a vehicle and I can fix it.”

“Someone is overly cocky,” Forge calls out when he enters the room, wearing just some boxer briefs.

“Oh, good lord,” Lilith murmurs, looking away.

“Fuckface, my woman does not need to see your tiny dick; go and chuck some clothes on,” Jack expresses.

He waves the man off, stepping closer. “Lil loves my body, don’t ya, baby.” He winks at the redhaired woman.

She cocks a brow at him, snuggling closer to her man.

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