Chapter Seven
ELIZABETH
The Next Day
The clubhouse feels different this morning.
Maybe it’s the way the sunlight filters through the windows, softer somehow, or maybe it’s the lingering confusion from last night in the desert that has me seeing everything through a different lens.
Sin was nowhere to be found when I arrived, which is probably for the best.
I’m still processing what happened.
How can he kiss me like the world is ending and then pull away like I’m radioactive?
Push and pull.
Hot and cold.
I’m getting whiplash from this man.
I’m nursing my second cup of coffee when Nitro approaches, his usual stoic expression replaced with something lighter. “You busy today, Elizabeth?”
I glance up from my notebook, where I’ve been pretending to write observations while actually replaying every second of Sin’s hands on me. “Depends. What did you have in mind?”
“Monthly field trip. You want to see how we operate? Well, this is part of it.” He jerks his head toward the exit. “Come on. Time to see how bikers really like to party.”
Intrigued and a little anxious, I gather my things and follow him outside, where several of the brothers are already mounting their bikes. Ghost, Deek, Bear, Mace, Koa, even Ro in her car—almost the whole crew, minus Sin. I try not to feel disappointed by his absence.
“Where exactly are we going?” I ask as Nitro helps me onto the back of his bike.
“You’ll see,” he replies, and there’s something almost tender in his voice that I haven’t heard before.
The ride takes us through a quieter part of Vegas, away from the neon and chaos of The Strip. We pull up to a modest building with a sign that reads “Sunset Manor Senior Living Community.” I blink in confusion as the brothers park their bikes and start pulling various items from their saddlebags.
“A nursing home?” I ask, incredulous.
Deek grins at me as he shoulders what looks like a bag of painting supplies. “Just wait, Elizabeth. We’re about to show you a real good time.”
Confused, I smile at him before we walk through the front doors, and immediately I’m struck by the energy shift.
The staff greet the brothers and Ro like old friends, and there’s genuine warmth in their voices.
But it’s the elderly residents who really steal the show.
Their faces light up the moment they spot the leather-clad men filing through the lobby.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” chimes a voice that’s a mix of sweet yet taunting. I turn to see a tiny woman in a floral housecoat practically bouncing toward us. She can’t be more than five feet tall, but she moves with the energy of someone half her age.
“Hey, Queenie! Still shrinking, I see?” Nitro says, and his entire demeanor transforms. The tough VP becomes gentle, almost boyish, as he bends down to embrace the woman.
“Oh, shush, don’t you sass me, young man,” she scolds, but she’s beaming. “You’re late! I told Ethel you’d be here by two, and it’s already two-fifteen. She’s been pacing like a caged cougar. You know how she gets… I swear the woman is hornier than an ox!”
They all laugh as I widen my eyes in shock.
“Yeah, we all know Ethel’s waiting to see Deek,” Ro calls out, and I spin to see Deek grinning like a madman.
“What can I say? The ladies love them some Deek?” He chuckles, gripping his club cut like he’s all that.
The guys all groan as Nitro turns back to Queenie, shaking his head. “Sorry for being late, Queenie. I wanted to make sure our guest of honor could come,” Nitro says, gesturing to me.
The woman’s sharp eyes land on me, and I feel like I’m being appraised by a jeweler. “Well, well. And who might this pretty little thing be? You didn’t tell me you had a lady friend, dear?”
Nitro snorts out a laugh, and I quickly fix her misconception. “Elizabeth Hale,” I say, extending my hand. “Not his lady friend… I’m writing a story about the club.”
She tilts her head in understanding. “Oh, a journalist? About time someone told the truth about these boys, not the piffle your kind usually bullshits about,” Queenie says, taking my hand in both of hers.
Her grip is surprisingly strong. “I’m Queenie, Nitro is my grandson, and these men are angels, every last one of them.
Don’t you let anyone tell you any different. ”
“Hey, what about me, Queenie?” Ro calls out, waving what looks like a guitar case through the air.
Queenie snorts out a laugh. “Oh, sweetheart, everyone knows you are not even close to an angel.”
The entire room bursts into laughter as Ro smiles wide, doing a little curtsey, and I glance around at the so-called ‘angels’ in question, who are tattooed, bearded, intimidating as hell, and have to suppress a smile.
“All right, Queenie, where do you want us?” Ghost asks, pulling a toothpick from his mouth.
“Main room, as usual. Everyone’s already gathered. They’ve been asking about you all week.” She turns to me. “The club comes every month, Elizabeth, rain or shine. Been doing it for… oh, what is it now, Nitro? Three years?”
“Four,” he corrects gently.
“Four years,” she repeats with satisfaction. “Never missed a month.”
I smile up at Nitro, and he shrugs as we make our way through the facility.
I’m struck by how the atmosphere changes.
Residents who moments before looked tired or withdrawn suddenly perk up.
Old men straighten in their wheelchairs, women primp their hair, and everyone seems to buzz with anticipation.
The main room has been set up like a small concert hall, with chairs arranged in rows facing what appears to be a makeshift stage area. The brothers disperse throughout the room, greeting residents by name, asking about grandchildren, medication changes, and doctor visits.
Deek is almost attacked by someone I assume is Ethel, as she clings to him for dear life.
But the way he talks to her, embraces her like she is his most favorite person on earth, surprises me.
The usual cocky jokester is putting all his attention on Ethel, making her feel wanted and needed, exactly what she deserves at this time in her life.
He hands her the bag of painting supplies that he was carrying, and anyone would think all the Christmases and birthdays have come at once.
It’s entirely surreal.
Deek leads her to her seat, and she takes it, looking over all her new supplies, and then he walks to the back row, taking a seat. Smiling, I walk over and take a seat next to him, who’s smirking like he knows the world’s best secret.
He grins at me, and I shake my head. “That was really nice of you, Deek.”
He chuckles. “Don’t tell anyone I’m nice. I have a rep to uphold as a practical joker and general idiot of the club, you understand?”
Smiling wide, I rest my hand on his arm. “Your secret is safe with me.” I glance back to the front of the room, seeing Nitro and Ro setting up for something, but I still have no freaking clue as to what. “What exactly is about to happen here?” I ask.
“Oh, you just wait,” he says, settling back in his chair. “This is gonna blow your freaking mind.”
The room gradually quiets as Nitro and Ro move to the front. Nitro’s carrying what I now realize is a flute case.
A fucking flute!
This mountain of a man, with arms like tree trunks and a beard that could house small animals, opens the case and pulls out a delicate silver instrument.
My jaw actually drops.
Then Ro pulls out her electric guitar, plugs it into the amp that’s already sitting in the room waiting.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” Nitro says, his voice carrying easily through the room. “Hope you’re all doing well this month. Queenie’s been keeping me posted on the gossip, so I know Harold’s been causing trouble in the dining room again.”
A chorus of laughter ripples through the crowd, and an elderly man in the front row raises his hand. “That’s a damn lie, Nitro! It was Mario who started the food fight.”
“Don’t start that bullshit, Harold. We don’t all have dementia,” Queenie calls out, but she’s laughing too.
“All right, all right,” Nitro says, and there’s such warmth in his voice that I feel something tight in my chest loosen. “Who wants to hear a biker play some classical shit?”
The residents all cheer like they’re going to a damn rock concert, and I can’t help but laugh as Deek elbows me gently. “Here we go,” he whispers beside me.
Nitro raises the flute to his lips, then glances over his shoulder at Ro, and then they begin.
It’s a classical piece, something I recognize but can’t name.
It’s a crazy mix so pure, so beautiful, that the entire room falls silent.
Nitro plays it with a skill that speaks of years of training.
His classical flair, teamed with that rock edge from Ro, makes this entire thing such an amazing sound that I had no fucking idea the old folks would love.
But they are.
I stare, completely transfixed.
This is not what I expected.
Nothing about this is what I expected.
The contrast is staggering.
This man who only yesterday was prepared to fight his way into enemy territory at the Casino, who carries himself like he could break someone in half without breaking a sweat, is creating something so achingly beautiful.
Ro plays the guitar like she was made for it, in a room full of elderly people who are watching them like they’re performing at Carnegie Hall.
As they play, I glance around the room. Every face is rapt with attention. Some residents have tears in their eyes. Others are swaying to the melody. And the brothers, these supposedly hardened criminals, are watching Nitro and Ro with expressions of pure pride and affection.
When the piece ends, the applause is thunderous. Queenie actually whoops, and I can’t help but smile at the pure joy on everyone’s faces.
“That was beautiful, my darlings,” calls out a woman with snow-white hair. “Could you play that Pachelbel piece? The one you did last spring?”