Chapter 9
9
Robyn
M orning finds us tangled up in my bed, rested and exhausted at the same time.
Our lovemaking sessions are getting more and more intense—I’m loving every second of it. Knox, Diesel, and Jagger have a subtle way of pushing my limits, of taking me to places I’ve never been before. And the way my heart sings when I’m with them… I’ve never felt that before.
My eyes close again.
The next time I open them, I’m alone. I feel naked and cold. I can hear them in the kitchen, though. I’m not alone.
“You’re a heavy sleeper,” Knox says when I come downstairs, showered and ready to start the day. “Made you coffee.”
“Now I feel spoiled,” I laugh as I take the mug from his hand and kiss him softly on the lips. “Thank you.”
“We tried to wake you up,” Diesel replies. He and Jagger sit at the breakfast table by the window, with a view of the backyard and the sun coming over the sleep town. “I gave you a couple of nudges, but you were snoring so sweetly, I just couldn’t—”
“Snoring?” I gasp, my eyes as wide as saucers.
They laugh, but I’m blushing. Knox comes in for another kiss. “More like purring,” he says, then captures my lips, teasing and caressing my very soul. “It was cute. We just didn’t have the heart to jostle you out of it.”
“Well, I appreciate it,” I reply.
Light on my feet, I take a seat next to Jagger, leaning into him. “How are you feeling?” he asks, his warm breath tickling my ear.
“I feel pretty damn great.”
“Yeah, last night was something else,” he says, his gaze softening as he looks into my soul. “I’m already looking forward to the next one.”
“I should add that he speaks for all three of us,” Diesel replies, giving me his signature cool grin as he finishes his coffee. “That being said, we’ve got work to do, fellas. Time to roll out.”
“Samson’s outside. It’s his turn to watch over you lovely ladies,” Knox says.
One by one, they kiss me, pouring everything they have into it. I feel the affection and the care, I feel the kindness of their energy filling me all the way up until all I can do is wish them a wonderful day and watch as they head for the front door.
Once the sound of their receding footsteps fades, followed by the rumbling of their Harleys as they pull out of the driveway and ride off into the morning, I allow myself a deep sigh. I lean back into my seat and take a long sip of my coffee. My muscles ache in the sweetest fashion. Memories of last night return to draw a smile on my lips. I’m looking forward to being with my men again too.
Alas, the day has begun.
With my bag and keys in hand, I step out and lock the door.
“Hey, Sam,” I greet Samson as I cross the yard and step onto the driveway, where Samson sits casually on his custom Harley. “Oh, wow, new paint?”
“Found a guy one state over who does this sort of work,” Samson says, beaming with pride while I walk around the bike to take it all in. “He’s an artist, what can I say? Worth the ride and the cash I paid for this.”
“It’s beautiful. And so… typical Samson.” I can’t help but chuckle.
The tank features a beautiful woman, half-naked and bearing the Rogue Riders MC flag as a crop top, lasciviously smiling as the club’s creed stretches on both sides with elegant, Gothic-style letters. “She’s a beauty, huh?”
“It’s got a Boris Vallejo vibe going, for sure,” I say.
“Ah, you know your kinky, kitschy contemporary artists.”
“I’ve always been a fan. I also remember you had quite the stash of Penthouse issues in your office at the clubhouse. It’s where I first saw Luis Royo’s illustrations while doing stock inventory for the bar.”
Samson thinks about it for a second, then bursts into a hefty laugh. “I’d almost forgotten. Damn, girl, you’re right. Yeah, I had them on top of my desk. What were you doing in my office? Stock inventory? Or making out with—”
“Not making out with Calvin,” I scoff. “I really was doing stock inventory. I was actually fond of your swivel chair. Ridiculously comfortable. But speaking of the devil while we reminisce about the good times…”
“You mean, the good times before he showed you his true colors.”
I glance across the street and take a deep, shuddering breath. A knot tightens in my throat. At the same time, Ellie’s front door opens, and I see her coming out with Kyra. “The guys said they haven’t had any run-ins with Calvin. Is that true?”
“You don’t trust the prez?” Samson says and grins as he leans forward. He has a way of winding me up, I suppose. I think he does so out of habit, not out of pleasure. It’s always been his nature to poke and prod people until they react.
“I trust Knox. I trust Jagger. I trust Diesel too,” I say. “But I also know they want to protect me, even if it means… I don’t know, maybe keeping things from me. So I’m asking you, Samson, because I know you’re always straight with me. Have you guys had any run-ins with Calvin since he got out of prison?”
“No, and frankly, I don’t like it,” he says.
I wave at Ellie and Kyra as they reach the sidewalk and look both ways before they cross the street. Kyra’s ready for kindergarten, looking gorgeous in her baby blue jeans and white sweater. Ellie got her the matching sneakers as a birthday present, and I have to admit, they just complete the outfit.
My daughter lights up like the sun above us as soon as she sees Samson’s motorcycle.
“Why don’t you like it?” I ask Samson. We only have a few seconds before this conversation is over.
“I don’t know. It bugs me,” he says. “The guys say it’s better this way, but I got a feeling he’s up to something. I don’t wanna scare you or anything, and you can obviously see we’re here for you 24/7. But I don’t trust it. Calvin was always in your face about everything. He didn’t take kindly to losing you, and he sure as shit didn’t like getting his ass kicked and dumped by the Riders in such an unceremonious fashion.”
“I was going to ask if I should be worried, but it’s a little too late for that,” I reply with a hefty dose of sarcasm.
“Hey, I got you, kiddo,” Samson insists. “We’ve all got you.”
“I know. And I’m forever grateful,” I reply, then shift my focus on the incoming Ellie and Kyra. “Good morning, ladies! How’s everybody doing? Ready for school, missy?”
“Are we going for a ride?” Kyra asks enthusiastically as she inches closer to Samson and his motorcycle. She gives him the cutest sheepish smile. “Hello, mister.”
I stifle a hearty laugh. “My God, Kyra. You can’t hop on a bike with a stranger, silly girl!”
“Her mother’s daughter,” Samson quips. “If my memory serves, that’s how you got the two-wheel bug in you, Robyn.”
Ellie gives me a shocked look. “Oh, that’s right, you used to ride!”
“Shush, don’t let the demon hear you,” I whisper, nodding at Kyra. To my relief, she’s too busy admiring Samson’s busty lady illustration. “Kyra, we’re going to go for a ride next weekend, that I can promise you. We need to get you to school right now, though.”
“Do I have to go?” she moans as she turns around to give me the puppy-dog-eye routine. “I’m not feeling good.”
I give Ellie a curious glance. She responds with a quiet shake of the head. “You don’t feel good?” I say to my daughter, then kneel so I can hug her properly. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“My tummy hurts. My head hurts. My back too. I think I slept wrong.”
The downside to being a good kid in general is that it makes you a terrible liar. I can see right through this number of hers, and while I might normally chide her for lying, I can only forgive her since she’s going to school anyway.
“You’ll be fine, I promise,” I tell my daughter. “I just got a call from your teacher. She said they’re bringing cherry pop tarts for snacks this afternoon. I mean, you can stay at home, and I’ll ask if they can save you a piece, but I can’t guarantee there will be any—”
“I’m going to school,” Kyra fiercely declares.
At the same time, Samson and Ellie burst into laughter.
“Listen, if you want, I can drive Kyra to school,” Ellie says. “I don’t have much else to do for today, except maybe job applications, but there’s plenty of time for that.”
“Are you sure, Ellie? It would certainly help. I’ve got a prissy nine o’clock this morning, and I need to get to the salon earlier to get her nail kit ready,” I say, checking my watch.
“Of course. Go, do your thing; it’s not a problem,” Ellie replies with a warm smile.
Samson gives her a curious look. “You’re Ellie.”
“Yeah…” She sounds a tad apprehensive—until I remember she was never a big fan of motorcycles or bikers in general. “Why?”
“Oh, my gosh, how rude of me. I never introduced you. Ellie, this is Samson, treasurer for the Rogue Riders. Samson, this is Ellie, my good friend and neighbor.”
“I’m also one of the clubhouse managers,” Samson says, giving Ellie a firm handshake while Kyra keeps gazing at the Harley paint job. “Knox mentioned something about you looking for a job?”
Ellie blinks a few times, clearly surprised. “Um, yeah. I’m looking.”
“Well, as it happens, we’ve got an opening at the clubhouse bar. One of our girls is moving out of town, and I’d rather go with someone recommended than put an ad in the paper,” he says. “Would you be willing to come down to the clubhouse later and do an interview with me and the bar manager? You’ll like her. She’s a real crackle.”
“Who’s the bar manager?” I ask, going through my mental records. “Oh, Shay, right? The ginger who kept giving you lip about drinking all the good bourbon.”
Samson grins like the Cheshire Cat. “That’s the one. She was born to whip that place into a better shape.”
“That, I agree with,” I say with a laugh, then look at Ellie. “You’ll love Shay. She’s really cool and fair to everyone on her team.”
“Hold up, I haven’t even gone to the interview yet,” she chuckles lightly.
“You need a job, pronto…”
“You’re right,” she concedes with a sigh. “No, you’re absolutely right. I don’t know why I’m fussing.”
Samson chuckles dryly. “So I’ll see you later at the clubhouse, Ellie. Any time after noon is good for us.” He pauses to look at me. “I’m tailing you today, missy. Come on. You’re going to be late for work.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ellie tells Samson with a shy smile.
“Get the job, then thank me.”
I laugh and give Kyra a hug and a goodbye kiss on the forehead. “I’ll pick you up later, alrighty tighty?”
“Yes, ma’am!” Kyra declares and returns the kiss.
I draw all the love I can from my little girl, then let Ellie take her away, watching as they get into Ellie’s car and drive off. Silence falls between Samson and me for the better part of a minute while I wonder if the nausea I’m suddenly feeling is self-induced or the root of some stomach distress. All this kerfuffle over Calvin’s return may have done a number on my health.
“Are you okay?” Samson asks.
“Yeah. Just got lost in thought for a moment there,” I reply and reset, heading straight for my car. “Ride safe, Samson. I’ll keep you in my rearview mirror.”
“You should ride again, Robyn. It made you happy,” he calls out.
I wave him off, not wanting to respond. But he’s right. I was happy when I was riding my own bike. It wasn’t a Harley—those were ridiculously expensive. They still are, at least for my current budget as a single mother. But my Yamaha DragStar took me to so many wonderful places. Some of my best memories happened on that bike.
Yet another thing I had to give up because of Calvin.
I’m not letting him ruin anything ever again.