Page 5 of Hero: Claimed

“When he had my hands secured to the door with zip-ties to give Dad the money for the crank, I pulled and twisted until I got them free.”

My gaze obviously drops to her wrists and the skin is red in some places, but mostly scabbed over from angry cuts. Did she even get the chance to clean those?

“…and when he gave me my opening,” Brinley goes on speaking and I missed whatever else she said before it looking at those wrists. “I cracked his head against the edge of the door. Knocked him clean out. Then I stole the truck. But it was a stick and I’m not great with those.” She swallows and I watch her throat bob. What the fuck is wrong with me? “So I ditched it at a liquor store close to the bus station and hoofed it. Bought a ticket to Ashland with the money in his glovebox. Bought the Corolla in Ashland.”

“You stole his truck and money?” Hannah’s voice rises, most likely thinking what we’re all thinking.

“I figured I needed it more than he did. He yanked me from my apartment in my sleep shorts and tank top. I didn’t even have shoes. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Exactly what you did,” Hannah answers and steps forward to put a comforting arm around her sister.

At the same time Blood demands, “What club?”

Here we go. Exactly what we were thinking…

“The Devil’s Riot,” Brinley answers and the room goes wired. This shit just turned the corner from not great tofucking bad.

“Fuck, we gotta give her back,” comes the order from our club president.

“What? No fucking way.”Blood slides his arm around Hannah’s waist who has dropped hers from around Brinley, pulling Hannah deep into his side.Christ, he needs to make her his old lady, already.

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Duke continues. “But the Riot are crazy fuckers and we’re already at war with the Horde. We got no claim on her. What we got is families, women and children, who could be hurt we go to war with the Riot.”

“So we stand back and let her be sold into sex slavery? She’s Hannah’s sister. Hannah’s one of us.”

Panicked, Hannah shifts her body away from Blood blocking her sister, grabbing a hold of Brinley’s arms above her scabbing wrists. “What if she stays here… like, as a hot mama? She can share my room… Brin uses to be a good cook. Brin,” —she turns to glance over her shoulder—"you still cook?”

“Uh… yeah—yes.”

“Shits me to say it,” Duke says, sounding as if he really means it. “But look at her.” He uses his hand to gesture up and down the length of her. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m sure yer sweet, but—”

“Hannah fits the hot mama mold,” Brinley says. “I’m just fat. The brothers don’t want to see my expansive ass walking around the clubhouse.” She laughs, like anything she says is funny. The woman shouldn’t be taking potshots at herself. Seems the world does it enough for her.

That’s when Duke brings some hope to the situation. “If she were someone’s old lady, now… that’d be different. But she ain’t.”

I hear the words slip from my mouth before I can stop them, stepping next to her. “I’ll claim her.” I let her on the compound. I felt the sucker punch in the chest when we first locked eyes. She’s… She’s my responsibility. Fuck, she is. She absolutely is.

“Hero,” Brinley whispers. And she shifts from around her sister to run her finger down my Lords patch, then across the name patch.

For some unexplainable reason, with her hand touching me, it feels wrong for her to call me that. I want to hear her say my name.

“Brother,” our prez mutters. “That’s gallant ’a you, but if you claim her, you really gotta claim her. They’ll see through any bullshit. You get my meaning?”

Fuck, okay. Every brother here knows I like to fuck, knows I love getting head. But I can’t let her be turned over to the likes of that. “I get your meaning, Prez. I claim her.”

Blood and Hannah look at me, their eyes so thankful. But Brinley?

Her voice trembles as she continues to cry. “I don’t know what to make of any of this,” she says. “Only that your name patch says Hero, and today, you’re mine.” Then she moves her hand from my cut to cup my face. Her touch is soft against my skin. “I’ll cook for you, wash your clothes, whatever you want from me, so long as I never have to return to that monster.”

I’m never uncomfortable, but suddenly I’m uncomfortable with all the eyes on us. I clear my throat. “You got a bag?” I ask her.

She lowers her eyes. So demure. “Just the store bag with the money. In my car.”

“Butch,” I call over to one of the new prospects. “Go get Brinley’s bag. Bring it to my room.” When her eyes go wide, I explain. “Club has rules, Brinley. If you’re my old lady, you have to sleep in my room.” Then I hold my hand out to her. “C’mon, let me show you where it is.”

Mentally, I tick off a list. Did I pick my clothes up off the floor from last night? Check. Is the toilet clean? Check. Unfortunately, I neglect to check the biggest of what I should’ve checked. Is there a naked woman in my unmade bed?

Even more unfortunately, the answer to that isyes. Melly or Nelly sits up when I open the door, breasts bared. She’s not as hot as she seemed last night while we were shooting back tequila. Youngish, stick-thin, but with a few more wrinkles around her mouth and eyes than I remember. Wrinkles that come from hard living. Needs to touch up her dye job. Her roots are showing and surprise, surprise, she’s not a natural blonde. Great lay, though. At least the woman has that going for her.

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