CHAPTER FIVE #2
Pinky wrinkles her nose again. “No thanks.”
I drop down on my haunches, my knees popping in protest. I’m getting too old for this shit. “You gonna be okay out here?”
Pinky bites her lip, and I can see the uncertainty in her eyes. She understands that getting the club’s protection has to go up for a vote. She was a part of this life for months. She knows how shit works.
“It’s gonna be fine, yeah?” she asks, her voice low enough that only I can hear it.
“Yeah,” I assure her, squeezing her knee. “Don’t worry.”
“We’ll take good care of her,” Cleo says, patting Pinky’s shoulder. “Go on, do your thing.”
I stand, my knees protesting again, and lean down to drop a kiss on Pinky’s lips. “Back soon.”
I head toward the chapel, where I know my brothers are waiting. The door is closed, and I knock twice before pushing it open.
The chapel is exactly what you’d expect, a long table surrounded by chairs. Denali sits at the head, with Pee Wee to his right. Klutch is in his spot as Sergeant-at-Arms, and the rest of the officers are in their assigned seats.
I take my place near the end of the table. As a Nomad, I sit wherever there’s an empty chair.
Denali looks up, his expression neutral. “How’d the trip go?”
Klutch and Train turn their eyes to me, clearly wanting me to be the one to explain the shit show that played out in Florida.
Denali arches a brow. “What?”
In for a penny, in for a pound. Here goes nothing.
Sucking in a breath, I let it out slowly. “I brought someone back with me.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Denali says dryly, pointing to the monitors on the wall behind me. “The pink-haired girl?”
I nod, glancing up at the screen. The girls are talking animatedly, unaware that they’re being watched. “Her name’s Savannah. She was with the Jacksonville Saints,” I answer, turning back to the table.
Denali’s brows snap together. “What do you mean she was with the Saints?”
I rub a hand over the back of my neck. “She was a club whore.”
Murmurs go around the room.
Denali snorts. “So let me get this straight. You brought a club whore—that you just met—back here with you?”
I puff out my cheeks, then blow out another heavy breath. “Yeah.” It sounds worse when he puts it like that.
He shakes his head. “How do I fucking know this story is only gonna get worse? Keep going.” He waves his hand out in front of him for me to hurry the fuck up.
“She was hiding from her ex.”
“And…”
“And he’s a member of the Dirty Devils MC.”
The room grows quiet as I fill them in on everything—how Eddie abused her, how he raped her, how he came back, wanting to kill her—all of it.
Once I’m done, I wait, watching as Denali processes all this information. He drums his fingers on the table, his face unreadable.
“And you want us to...?” he finally asks, cutting right to the chase.
“Protect her,” I answer simply.
Denali starts to shake his head, and I know he’s going to shut me down. She’s not an old lady and we have enough shit to deal with already. It’s unheard of to ask brothers to stick their necks out for someone who isn’t claimed.
“I’m claiming her,” I blurt out.
Pee Wee snorts. “You’re claiming a club whore? What the fuck for?”
My hands curl into fists under the table, and I have to fight to keep my expression neutral. Pee Wee is the VP, and I can’t disrespect him even though I want to take his fucking head off for calling her a whore. She did what she had to do to survive.
“She’s mine. End of story.” I shrug, like it’s no big deal, though every muscle in my body is coiled to strike.
Pee Wee turns his head, meeting Denali’s stare. I watch as they have a whole fucking conversation without uttering a single word. Then finally, Denali scrubs a hand over his face.
“Fine. You can keep the whore.”
Again, I bite my tongue. The last thing I need to do is pop off at the mouth when I’m getting what I want.
“Thanks,” I say, keeping my voice even. “She won’t be a problem.”
Denali rolls his eyes. “She’s got a pussy. They’re always a fucking problem.”
The men around the table chuckle, but Denali waves them off, moving on to other business.
He reaches into a duffel bag on the floor beside him and pulls out several envelopes, tossing them across the table to each of us.
“Your cut from the Rochester run,” he says.
I catch mine and peek inside. Five Gs in hundred-dollar bills. It’ll come in handy for getting my woman some winter clothes.
The meeting continues, with updates on our various business interests. Klutch mentions a fight he has coming up at The Underground, our illegal fight club. Pee Wee talks about some issues with the Russians and their territory. I tune most of it out, my mind still on Pinky and the tasks ahead.
Finally, Denali asks if anyone has any other business, and when nobody speaks up, he bangs the gavel, dismissing us.
I file out of the room behind Pee Wee and Klutch. They’re discussing the upcoming fight, but I’m not really listening.
When I get back into the main room, my eyes go right to my ol’ lady. The phrase feels strange even in my head, but that’s what she is now.
My old lady.
My woman.
I get a little nervous, wondering how she’ll take the news, especially after what happened with Killer claiming her best friend without asking her about it first.
Fuck it. I can’t worry about it. I did what I had to do to keep her safe, and I’d do it again. Surely she’ll understand that.
At the table, she looks up at me questioningly. I nod in answer, and I watch as her body visibly relaxes. She was more worried about the club’s decision than I realized.
“Guess what?” Cleo says as I approach, grabbing my attention. “I offered your woman a job.”
I arch a brow. “A job?”
“At Shear Madness,” Cleo explains. “My friend Mercy owns it. Pinky was a hairdresser in Miami. Did you know that?”
I didn’t, actually. I look at Pinky with renewed interest.
Pinky grins, her cheeks going that rosy shade that makes my cock stir. “I’ll have to get my license here in St. Louis first.”
Cleo waves her off. “It’ll be easy peasy. Mercy will help you with all that. You can start as a shampoo girl until your license transfers.”
“That’s... that would be amazing,” Pinky says, with genuine excitement in her voice.
Something in my chest loosens. She needs this—a job, friends, a purpose. She needs a real life here.
“Thanks, Cleo,” I say, meaning it.
Cleo winks at me. “My pleasure. I take care of my girls.”
“Ready to head out?” I ask Pinky. “We’ve still got some shit we need to do before the sun goes down.”
Like, go by my place and get my truck, buy her an entire winter wardrobe, and hopefully get settled in at the house before the snow hits.
Pinky stands, hugging each of her new friends goodbye. “Thank you all so much.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Demi says, squeezing her tight. “Girls’ night at our place.”
Pinky’s face lights up. “Really?”
“This outta be fun,” McKenna says.
My lips tip up. Demi and Klutch moved into the house right beside Pee Wee’s wife and kids. To say it’s an awkward situation would be putting it mildly.
Pinky turns to me, beaming, and my heart soars. She’s so fucking beautiful when she smiles like that.
“Ready?” I offer my hand.
She nods. “Ready, Freddy.”
With my ol’ lady’s hand holding mine, we head out into the cold. The temperature has dropped even further, and the sky is darkening rapidly.
“Kodiak should have the heat on by now,” I say as we approach my bike. “Ready to see your new home?”
Her eyes meet mine, full of trust. “Hell yeah.”
I help her with her helmet, then climb on the bike and wait for her to get settled behind me. Her arms wrap around my waist, and I feel her cheek press against my back.
I fire up the engine, and we roll out of the compound, heading toward my place.
This wasn’t the plan when I rolled out of here less than a week ago.
I was supposed to go to Florida, then come back to my solitary life here in St. Louis for the winter.
I wasn’t supposed to bring back a pink-haired beauty with trouble on her heels.
But as I feel her arms tighten around me, I can’t bring myself to regret a single decision that led us here.
She’s mine now.
And I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep her safe.