Chapter Eight
Bishop clenched his teeth as he started his motorcycle.
He forced himself to take a deep breath and reminded himself that Willow was pressed against his back and safe.
She would be staying at the clubhouse, that fuckwad wouldn’t be able to get to her.
Especially since he planned to put her in his room.
He hadn’t told her that part yet. But since that fuckwad hadn’t shown up, he thought maybe the tracker was on her truck.
He’d look at it once they got it back to the clubhouse.
If he didn’t see it, then he’d have them take it to the shop and do a more thorough inspection.
He waited until Warlock pulled out then he took his place, knowing Viper and Blade would have their backs.
Viper had Winter’s keys. He was going to head to the clubhouse and get several of their brothers and a couple of trucks to take him back to her truck, then they would go to her apartment and pack it up.
That was another thing he hadn’t told her yet.
She wasn’t going back to the apartment. Ever.
It had taken everything he had to keep his mouth shut when she’d given her address to Viper.
But his brothers knew what he was thinking when he met their gazes.
She might move on from the Sons, though not if he had much to say about it, but she would not live there another day.
They would pack up her stuff, bring the personal things to the clubhouse, and take the rest to one of the storage facilities the club ran.
He let his mind drift to what he wanted to do to the fuckwad when he caught up with him.
Yeah, he was going to teach him a couple of hard lessons about how to treat a woman, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but be oddly grateful for the shithead.
His stupidity had driven Winter right into his arms, and that Bishop had no complaints about.
Winter tapping on his thigh drew his attention back to the present.
They were driving through the parking area in front of the visitor’s center.
She’d told him early she didn’t care to stop but had she changed her mind?
He turned his head to let her know he would pull off, but she spoke.
Since it was right in his ear, she didn’t need to shout for him to hear her.
“That’s him. That’s Kevin.”
Bishop nodded to let her know he’d heard her as he scanned the parking area and spotted a man leaning against the side of a white Prius, arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face as he watched the four bikes pass him.
Bishop flexed his hands on the grips of his bike and tried to memorize the fuckwad’s face.
At least now he’d have a face to compare to whatever Hammer could find when he went looking.
It also confirmed that she was being tracked, either by her phone or something on her person, or maybe in her bag. He’d question her more when they got to the clubhouse and maybe hand her phone over to Hammer to see if he could find anything on it.
The trip to the clubhouse wasn’t as far as it would have been to take her back to her truck or apartment.
He pulled in the gates, nodding to Frank, the prospect manning the gate, and up to the clubhouse, walking his bike back into his spot in the long line of motorcycles before killing the engine.
“Come on, Spitfire.” He patted her thigh. “Let’s grab a drink, then I’ll introduce you to Bulldog and show you around.” He waited while she dismounted then put the helmet away when she handed it to him. He hooked an arm around her waist and guided her inside.
“What you want to drink?” he asked as he guided her to the bar first. “Give me an amber,” he said to Billy, another prospect, then he looked at Winter, waiting for her to tell the kid what she wanted.
“What vodka do you have on hand?”
Billy set an unopened bottle on the counter in front of Bishop then twisted around to look at the shelf.
“Smirnoff, Skyy, and Tito’s”
“Give me a shot of the Tito’s, then do you guys have any reds on hand?”
“Reds?”
“She’s talking about beer.” Bishop twisted the top off his bottle and took a pull before turning to Winter. “Pretty sure no reds, how do you feel about ambers?”
“Tolerable.”
“Have you had a Kiltlifter yet?”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s local. A Scottish ale, kind of like an amber mixed with a red.”
She pursed her lips and pulled them to one side as she considered it. “All right, I’ll take it.”
“Coming right up.” Billy finished pouring the shot and slid it across the bar in front of Winter then turned and pulled the bottle from the cooler and set it and a bottle opener on the bar.
Bishop took the bottle before Winter had a chance, and used the ring on his left hand to pry the lid off before setting it back in front of her and tossing the lid into the trash can behind the bar.
Winter picked up the shot first, downing it like a pro, except for a slight shake of her head before she set the glass aside and picked up the beer.
“You said something about meeting someone and then a tour.”
“Sure thing, let’s get started.” He led her across the common room then down a short hall to the room Bulldog had claimed for his office. He knocked on the open door and Bulldog looked up.
“Come in.” Bulldog leaned back in his chair, his eyes skimming down Winter’s body, taking her in. Bishop didn’t miss when his president’s gaze lingered on his hand on Winter’s hip, then continued down, before going back to her face. “I take it you’re Winter?”
“That would be me.” She stood with her head up and met Bulldog’s gaze.
A spurt of pride shot through Bishop. She was perfect. She knew the way things worked in their world and while he knew she was afraid, he could feel the fine trembling of her body, though she didn’t let it show.
“Come in and have a seat.” Bulldog nodded to the chairs in front of his desk. “Bishop filled me in on what’s going on. I want you to know you’re welcome here. Do you have a cut or t-shirt from the Angels?”
Bishop frowned. Why would she need that? She was here, not with the Angels.
“Yeah, I’ve got my patchling cut. It’s in my closet at my place.” She reached into the little bag she wore slung across her body and pulled out her phone. “Should I text Viper and have him add that to the list of things to get for me?”
“Patchling?” Bishop couldn’t help but ask. He’d been around the Sons for several years but had never heard the term.
Winter lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “That’s what Dad called me. I mean, I knew I could never be a patched member but I never felt left out either.”
“I’ll take care of it, but go ahead and give me your phone.
I’ll give it to our tech guy and see if he can figure out how this guy is tracking you,” Bulldog said holding one hand out.
Winter looked at the hand, then her phone before handing it over.
“I’d appreciate it if once you get your things, you would wear the cut any time you’re not in your room, not just here.
You need to wear it all the time, even out and about in town.
I want you marked that you’re protected. Got me?”
Winter nodded, though she didn’t look pleased about it. Bishop didn’t like it either. He hated the idea of another club’s colors on her back. He wanted her cut to say Sons of Sin and his name. She was his, or at least she would be. He just had to convince her.
“Go get her settled in. I’ve got a few things I need to do but I’ll need to coordinate a few things with you later,” Bulldog addressed the last to Bishop, dismissing them both.
“Come on, Spitfire, let me show you our room.” He guided her to the stairs and to the third floor where the officers’ rooms were, wondering if she would catch the hint about where she would be sleeping.
When they reached the third floor he led her to his door, opened it, followed her inside, and closed the door. They stood in a small seating area, where he had a couch on one wall and a recliner in the corner, both angled to see the TV mounted on the far wall.
“Bedroom’s in there, it’s not much but it’s got fresh sheets this morning. There’s a bathroom through there as well. Let me know if you want or need anything and I’ll make sure you get it.”
He watched as she looked around the room, then wandered into the bedroom and looked around. When she came back, she stared at him for a moment, her hands on her hips.
“Who am I rooming with? And why can’t I have a room of my own?
” The look of outrage on her face was new.
Few people were willing to go head-to-head with him.
Even his brothers. Bishop couldn’t remember the last time a woman stood up to him, much less confronted him about anything.
He had a hard time not grinning like a fool because he liked her fire. He liked that she wasn’t afraid of him.
“Me. And because I can’t be sure you’re safe if you’re somewhere else.”
Her shoulder slumped.
“I hate this. I guess I’ll take the couch. Is it at least halfway comfortable?”
He watched her for a moment, then shook his head.
“You’re not sleeping on the couch.” He stepped toward her, slowly, because he was aware of how large he was and he didn’t want to scare her. But he’d gotten a taste of her earlier and was dying for another one.
Willow narrowed her eyes at him, as if she was trying to decide what he was up to.
“I’m not a club mama and I won’t be whoring for you and your brothers.”
“Know that, Spitfire. Anyone but me touches you and they risk losing the hand.” He took another step in her direction. She didn’t back away but stood there, hands still on her hips and scowling at him.
“And what if I say no?”