Chapter Forty- Six
Willow
“Sit.” Fleet and Bigfoot immediately plop onto their butts, and I dole out treats. These sweet boys are taking to basic obedience easily. Moving to the MC has made it very convenient to work with them. “Good boys!”
Lincoln already relented and let Colin have Fleet, but I still want to make sure he’s well-behaved. The beta has been so kind, showing me around and making sure I’m all right when my Alphas are busy doing “club stuff,” whatever that means. Apparently, it’s top secret, not for outsiders’ eyes.
I hate feeling like an outsider.
I finish up our session on a high note, choosing to do a lot of short sessions rather than long ones to help keep their attention—and keep me busy.
The door to the kennel swings shut, and I double-check the locks, wanting to make sure neither escapes.
Despite them being great dogs, this property is vast, and I don’t want to be the reason one gets lost.
With training over, I glance around, unsure what to do with my time.
I could go back to the house, but Cujo and Gy aren’t there.
Although we’re all sort of living together, it doesn’t feel like home yet, and being there without them leaves me empty inside.
This past week has been quiet, giving us a chance to enjoy each other’s company.
And while I appreciated the downtime to recover, I’m itching to get back to my life.
It took a bit of finessing—and a good knotting session—but I finally got my two overprotective Hounds to agree that tomorrow I’ll go back to volunteering at the shelter, and a little later this week I’ll return to training with Bert. The guys may not like it, but I need to stay busy for my sanity.
Struggling with indecision, I glance toward the clubhouse, then back at Linc’s. What to do? What to do? I could go looking for my Alphas. They’re somewhere on this property, but they’ve both taken off quite a bit of time to help me get settled. I don’t want to be a nuisance.
Even though there’s nothing wrong, and I’m safe on MC land, I can’t help but yearn for physical activity.
My eyes fall to the brand-new pistol Cujo gifted me.
He and Lincoln have been showering me with all types of gifts.
Blankets, pillows, and my favorite—different weapons.
The compact gun fits perfectly in my hand.
I grab it from the bench outside the kennels and slide it into the holster at my hip.
Cujo said it was a courting present, then he showed me how to use it.
The memory of him guiding my hands burns in the back of my brain: the heat of his body pressed at my back, his arms quietly supporting me, his enormous frame overshadowing mine with a shroud of comfort.
He asked me to carry it all day, every day. And I have.
Perhaps a bit of extra training is in order.
Scanning the area, I try to remember the exact path to the MC’s small shooting range. Both my Alphas said I should practice. There’s no reason I can’t go alone.
Right?
I’m only a few steps away from the kennels when a loud voice calls out.
“Hey, girly!”
I glance at my surroundings, searching. A tall, curvy woman with a big smile waves in my direction. I check once more, making sure that there isn't anyone else around. When I don't spot anyone, I tentatively wave back. Her long legs eat up the ground as she strides my way.
As she gets closer, I recognize her and remember Lincoln calling her Mama C.
“Hello.” I’m not sure what to call her; she’s certainly not my mother.
I wait for the pretty beta woman who smells faintly of summer and take in everything about her, from her gray-flecked auburn hair to the leather cut that pronounces her “Property of Cerberus.” Between her jeans, biker boots, and tight top, she has the biker-chic look going on.
A bubble of self-doubt pops within me, and I wonder if my simple leggings and a T-shirt need to be upgraded to keep up with my men.
“I like your boots.” She scans down, then back up at me with a grin.
“These shit-kickers have a steel toe. Great for nailing your man in the nuts when he’s being an asshole. Let me know, and we’ll go shopping and get you some.” She stops next to me, eyes widening at the gun I’m carrying. Then she laughs.
It’s infectious, and my mood lightens. “Nice piece there. I see they haven’t gotten you a cut yet, though. I’m gonna need to have a word with those boys.” Her eyes narrow.
“They have. I just don’t want to wear it.” She frowns at my admission.
“Why the hell not?” Considering she’s wearing one, I’m not sure what to say—insulting the leader’s wife doesn’t seem like a smart choice.
“It’s too heavy.”
She eyes me as though knowing it’s not the truth, and I quail under her gaze. “Independent thing like you—it's the “property of” patch, huh?” My cheeks flame, but I nod. Is this beta a mind reader? She throws her head back, cackling with delight.
“Little girl, we have a lot to teach you about being a biker chick, but I’m here for it.
Not sure if you remember when we met, but my name’s Connie.
Everyone around here calls me Mama C, and you can, too.
Anyone who belongs to Cujo and Gy is welcome in this family.
” The warmth in her tone catches me by surprise, hitting me deep in my chest. Since that terrible night, I haven’t belonged anywhere, but the kindness of this stranger, offering me family and love without even knowing me, is more than I deserve.
Especially with the danger I’ve brought to her door.
“Thank you. Do you know where everyone is? I was looking for the range and got a little turned around. Cujo told me to go there and practice.”
“I can show you. It’s one of my favorite spots. Anyway, the guys are all in Church.” She links arms with me, the touch making me jump.
“Church? Again? I didn’t realize they were so religious.” When she cackles, I realize I’ve put my foot in my mouth once more.
“You’re freaking adorable. I completely get what those two see in you.
What you see in them is more questionable,” she jokes as if bringing me into the club.
“No, Church is what they call their meetings. Honestly, even though I’ve been around this lifestyle for a long time, I’m not sure why they call it that, just the way it’s done. ”
“Oh. Maybe it’s kind of like a code word,” I muse aloud, and she laughs again, a sound so full of life and joy.
We walk toward the shooting range, and Mama C points out the different businesses located just within the premises. There’s a mechanics garage, a custom bike painting area, and, surprisingly, even a piercing bar.
“Believe it or not, we get community members who bring their kids for their first ear piercings. Doc runs it and is fastidious about sanitary piercing.” But after meeting these men, I absolutely do. This is a place where everyone feels safe.
When we round the corner, we make it to the right place. A small soundproof shed with a target painted on the outside.
“Thank you so much, Connie. I’m not sure I would have found it without you.” I don’t want to keep her from her day, though the company’s been lovely.
“Nah, girlie. Not getting rid of me. Some shooting sounds great; I’ll come in with you.” She pulls open the door with a creak, and we both walk in. It takes a moment for our eyes to adjust, but when they do, there’s a man standing there.
“Hey! You’re not supposed to be in here,” he snaps, startling me. The biker’s eyes roam over me, calculation in his gaze. For the most part, the MC members have been friendly, but this one is visibly annoyed. He rubs his nose, sniffing loudly, and his demeanor sets off alarm bells.
“Why not, Pup?” Connie asks, stepping out of the bright light streaming in through the doorway. His face blanches.
“Sorry. Didn’t realize she was with you. I’ll leave you ladies to target practice.” He high-tails it out the door like his ass is on fire, and I can’t help but find the whole situation strange.
“That one’s a bit of a puzzle.” Connie sets up a target, and I do the same, shaking off the weird moment. “You want tips? Or just to do your own thing?”
“I’ll take any advice you’ve got. I’m pretty new to actually trying to hit a specific spot with a gun—this was a recent gift. But I do all right with a taser.”
She chuckles. “Now that I remember.”
Taking the stance Cujo taught me, I relax my shoulders and do my best to ignore my already cramping fingers—they hate anything that makes them tense.
“Not bad. Not bad. Now, imagine the fucker who hurt you and pull the trigger.”
Malachi’s face appears on the target, and with a loud bang, the bullet releases, tearing its way right through the paper.
Die, fucker. Die.