Page 42 of Bride for the Bikers

That was weird. “Must be nice to have so many friends,” I say as we round the corner.

“Not just friends.” Shadow puts a hand to the small of my back and guides me deeper into the clubhouse. “Brothers. Blooded and sworn. I trust these rowdy assholes with my life. They’re my fucking family.” He nods in the direction of Thunder, Lightning and Outlaw. “These are just the three I dislike the least.”

I thought I might have started to find my family, but look how that turned out. On the other hand, without it, I never would've met these guys, so…

We come out into a large common room, most of it two full stories tall. There's a long bar along one side that looks as stocked as any I've ever been to, open space for mingling or dancing in the middle, pool tables further down, booths like a diner's but with leather seats on the wall opposite, and towards the back there's a massive big screen TV and a collection of couches and easy chairs. The walls are painted black, and on one of them is a huge gold version of the Screaming Eagles logo, flanked by American flags.

Okay, so it's a little bit like a frat house, I guess.

That is, if you traded dunk college boys out with fully grown men with dark, watchful eyes. They look fairly relaxed, wearing bike leathers and jeans, patch covered vests, bandannas and T-shirts. Most are playing pool, watching a football game on the TV or just having beers at the bar. Just about any exposed skin is covered in tattoos and scars, and a lot of them have pistol grips sticking out of their belts. If I wasn’t flanked by men that I trust, I’d probably turn tail and run right back out.

“Well, look who's back,” yells the guy manning the bar. He's wearing a leather vest over his T-shirt and the sides of his head are shaved to reveal an intricate dragon tattoo wrapped around and down to his neck. “Lose it all in the slots?”

A grizzled biker with a big gray beard laughs. “Looks like they brought some winnings back, if you ask me.”

Are they… Do they mean me?

As we stand there, two girls about my age, but wearing half as much clothing pass by. Pretty sure when the one's oversized T-shirt flips up, all I see is her bare ass. They're quickly swept up into the laps of two of the bikers at the bar, who aren’t shy about where they put their hands.

Lightning laughs. “Come on. Pick your jaw up off the floor. We can play later, if you want. Eagle-eye's waiting.” He leads the way to a staircase that leads up along the wall to what looks like some sort of office over the bar with a full view of the common room through big, covered windows. If this was a corporation, it's where I'd imagine the CEO would sit.

He knocks, and a deep, gravelly voice from inside says, “Come in.”

Shadow opens the door, and the first thing I see is the most intimidating men I've met in my life. Eagle-eye is tall, his torso a barrel of muscle, and bare, muscular arms covered in tattoos. His thick hair and bushy mustache are a silvery gray. He’s not looking at us, his entire focus on a pretty woman with a few grays of her own. His hand is resting on her stomach, where a baby bump is clearly showing. He kisses her fiercely before she runs her fingers through his beard and leaves, giving us a brief nod. The whole thing took less than a minute, but it was such an intimate moment that it almost makes me feel more shocked than what happened with the girls downstairs.

His most striking feature I don’t see until he turns to us. A mismatched pair of eyes stare us down. One razor sharp andstaring right into my soul, the other pale and obviously blind. Its milky center follows the motions of the good eye, and it's downright eerie. It's like how I'd imagine a fortune teller in a fantasy novel. He must know how it looks, so I'm pretty sure not wearing an eye patch is a very conscious choice.

“So you're Harper. Is it Mesner? Or Simmons?”

“Um, Simmons.” I press myself into Thunder for support. He rests his arm over my shoulder.

When his gaze lifts from me to pass over my bikers, it's like a physical weight has been lifted. “You can’t keep her. You know that, right?” What's he mean?

Shadow shrugs.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Alright, lay it on me. I've told Mesner’s people to go fuck themselves, but they’re not going to let it go if they figure out we’ve got his fucking daughter. I think I liked it better when they couldn't figure out how to pick up a damn phone. Now, I don’t give a shit about his threats. He’s got muscle but we’ve got a fucking army, but I could do without a fucking war against some Las Vegas gangster if it's avoidable. The shit of it is, I don’t fucking blame him. We wiped the Vipers off the fucking planet when they messed with Faith. So tell me, boys, what's the real deal?”

Thunder steps forward. “Honest truth, Prez. We didn’t fucking take her. She begged to come with us. Ask her yourself. Mesner was using her for shit of his own, and when we ran into her, she fucking jumped at the chance to bail. Now he’s got her fucking mom, and we’ve got a cop riding our asses because he wants Mesner.”

Eagle-eye's glare falls back on me with all the weight that entails. “And what do you say, Harper?”

“Me?” I'm feeling so out of my depth here.

“Yeah. You. Everyone out, except Harper.”

“Prez—”

“Out! I want to hear what the fuck she has to say without you looming over her fucking shoulder. Now fuck off. I'll call you back up when we're done.”

24

HARPER

Eagle-eye stares downat me with those terrifying eyes. I must look scared out of my wits.

I am scared out of my wits.

He grunts, sounding very annoyed, but then turns away to sit down behind the big desk in his office. He gestures at one of the chairs. “Get comfortable. I'm asking you questions, but it's not a fucking interrogation.”

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