Page 32 of Property of Stone
She spun to face him, only to find him with one hand glued to his hip as he stared out the window. “She’s never had friends over?”
He turned, his expression a blank mask. “Some of my brothers’ nut nuggets will come swim but none of the asshole parents from her school will let their kids come over.”
Nut nuggets? She never heard that crass term used for children. Rugrats, yes. Nut nuggets, no.
“Why not?”
He tugged on his cut.
Oh.
But wait… “Because you belong to a club?”
“Ain’t just any club.”
“Do you want to explain that? I thought it was a group of people who all owned motorcycles.”
“Not people. Men. Not any fuckin’ motorcycle, Harleys,” he corrected.
“Okay, the members all ride Harleys.” And, apparently, were all men.
“It’s a brotherhood. Ridin’ ain’t a hobby, it’s a lifestyle.”
“It still doesn’t explain why parents wouldn’t want their children hanging out with yours.” Alarm bells went off in her head. She was missing something here. Maybe something very important.
She stared at him. His countless tattoos. His leather cut. The way he beat down Vic. The women at their clubhouse. It was not a typical lifestyle but…
“How many of your club members have been arrested before?”
His nostrils flared as he considered her question. “Does it matter?”
“It could. How many?”
“All of ‘em.”
All of them?“Is that a requirement to join your brotherhood?”
“No.”
Her eyes flicked to the yellow diamond patch on his cut.
“What does that yellow diamond mean?”
“Means we live by our own damn rules.”
Chapter Six
Taryn pulledout her cell phone and quickly did a search on what the one percent patch meant in this situation. She should’ve done this after their conversation on Monday.
Better late than never, right?
Shit.Wrong.
She read out loud from one of themanysearch results. “‘The term one-percent originated in the 1940s when the American Motorcyclist Association stated that ninety-nine-percent of motorcyclists were law-abiding citizens, implying the remaining one-percent were outlaws.’”
When she leveled her gaze on him once more, he whispered, “Fuck.”
“Do you followanylaws?”
