Page 95 of That Girl is Trouble

“We’re animals all the time, babe. We just let it out a little more when we’ve all been drinkin’.” I release her and jerk my head to the mess of tools she’s got spread out over the bench. “You gonna work in my garage, you make sure you clean up your shit. Tex walks in here Monday and sees this, even I won’t be able to save you. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. The big scary biker’s gonna lay down the law,” she says as she turns back to her car. “I’ll see you later.”

I nod a goodbye and head back to the parking lot, mind still on her bent over that fucking car.

I spot Graves heading in my direction, and I jerk my head towards him in greeting.

“Kat in there?” he asks.

“Yeah, she’s in there. Makin’ a mess. Suppose that’s your doing?”

He grins. “Been teaching her a few things. Kid’ll be heading up north in a week. Figured she needs to be able to fix her own shit. I don’t wanna be riding up there every time there’s something going on under the hood.”

Up north. In a week. I knew it was comin’, but my feelings about Kat leaving for school have been a little mixed. On one hand, I’m dreading that moment she drives out of here, because much like all those months she stayed away, I’ll be plunged into a world without her—a world I didn’t know I craved until that night I saw her at the Slam with someone else’s arm around her.

On the other hand, I’m relieved. With her gone, I won’t have to think about the seventeen-year-old girl slinking into my bed. I won’t have to restrain myself from taking her the way I want or keep having this argument in my head. The one where I’m trying to be a good man, respectful to Jack, who’s been by my side since we were kids, while trying to reconcile with the fact that I’m the type of man who takes what he wants. Holding back from this, from her, has been a goddamn test of my loyalty to my VP, and it’s starting to slip.

I cock my head and give Graves a smile. “Look at you. Proud parent. Tell me, brother, when Triss finally dumps you, who gets custody?”

“Hey, shut the fuck up, man.”

Graves swipes at me, but I dodge him, and when he moves to lock me in a choke hold, I slam my fist into his ribs, bending him in half and knocking the wind from his lungs.

“You’re gettin’ slow, man.” I laugh. “That woman of yours is making you soft.”

He snorts “Yeah? Let’s pop in the ring for a few rounds and see who’s soft. Weren’t for that lucky punch at the Slam, you’d be eatin’ all your meals out of a straw about now.”

Yeah, it was one hell of a lucky hit. That big motherfucker had me on the ropes. “Can never go wrong with a kidney shot. Or a headbutt.”

He shakes his head. “You’re a dirty fighter, Donovan. It’s why you always beat me. Unlike you,” he says, bringing his face close to mine, “I got respect for the fight.”

Rolling my eyes, I clap him on the back and give him a dark smile. “And I respect the win. Which is why the victory was mine.” And the spoils. The sweet little cherry-lipped honey pot chained to my bed that I should have fucking ravaged the second she lifted up her skirt.

“No fuckin’ loyalty,” he says with a deep laugh as he bumps his fist with mine.

Even in jest, those words hit me right in the gut. No fucking loyalty. He has no goddamn idea how loyal I’ve been trying to be. “Later, man. I’m gonna check on Kitty and then head home. Triss has got me lookin’ at wallpaper tonight.”

“Jesus, dude, you’ve been domesticated.”

He casually extends his middle finger as he walks off towards the shop, and I make my way to the clubhouse.

Inside, it’s loud. Dozens of bodies are scattered about the room, and the bar on the far wall is surrounded by men in Sinner cuts. I push through the crowd and stalk towards my usual table at the back, which is already occupied by Preacher and two blond chicks.

Clapping my hand against Preacher’s, I take my seat and pull out my phone. I scroll through my messages, replying to some and ignoring others. I check the final score of the Broncos pre-season game. I spend too much time perusing Kat’s Instagram.

The clubhouse door opens, and Kat walks in. My heart does another one of those flips. I follow her with my eyes as she moves through groups of people and heads towards the bar. She’s still wearing that white shirt, but she’s replaced her dirty jeans with a short pleated black skirt. Schoolgirl crush. Christ. That outfit should be fucking illegal.

Our eyes meet for a second, and she gives me a small smile before dipping into the crowd, but I still watch her. I ignore whatever Preacher’s saying to me. I barely feel the hand sliding up my thigh and moving to my—

My focus snaps to the blonde beside me, and I catch her hand just as she’s about to make a go for my junk. “Easy,” I growl.

She only smiles at me before sliding onto my lap. “Hey, Axe,” she purrs in my ear. Her arms circle around my neck and her fingernails skim the hair at the back of my head. “Been a while.”

“Has it?” I ask coolly.

I lose sight of her. I search through the packs of people to the jukebox, where Tex is standing, his arms slung around two women. I check the bar, where only Moxy is serving drinks.

No dark hair. No cherry lips. No short little skirt. Where did she go?

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