Chapter Eighteen
Leather-Studded Sorority
Shiloh
Lockdown.
I’d heard that term in movies and video games ever since I could remember, so just hearing it evoked a sense of urgency and danger. Officially the Gravediggers hadn’t yet gotten the word to lock everything down and prep for war, but the sharp, tension-filled tang of it was in the air when Romeo and I returned to Ride Or Die Choppers. For starters, the chain-link gate topped with razor wire was firmly in place when he rode up. The guard at the little kiosk out front made me take off my helmet so he could get a good look at me before he hit the gate’s automated button and waved us through.
Apparently the death of my truck—and the beating Romeo had given Marvel—was being taken seriously.
After dropping me inside my new office—where a wide-eyed Misty was waiting to pounce on me with mugs of coffee and a bag of dark chocolate truffles—Romeo went to the back of the showroom to huddle in Tyr’s office with Tyr and several other high-ranking Gravediggers. I knew they had to be high-ranking, because Misty called them bigwigs, and Arthur, my new shadow and Gravedigger-wannabe, looked at the powerfully built men gathering in Tyr’s office with a mixture of awe and longing. Clearly the guy couldn’t wait to be one of them, and that told me all I needed to know about just how important they were.
Since regular business had ground to a halt at Ride Or Die Choppers, there was nothing left to do but gossip with Misty. After I gave her a detailed description on how my truck had been ax-murdered, complete with the message that I’d be a dead woman if I ever went home, I asked her about the Barracks. Thankfully, Misty was a fountain of information on how that former motor court had actually been the draw for Tyr to settle his base of operations there.
According to her, Tyr had known setting up shop within Chicago’s city limits was a straight-up poke in the eye against Hades. But Tyr was a Colgrave just like Hades, so that hadn’t scared him in the least. Tyr had searched the city over for a place that could be well-defended, and had the accommodations to comfortably house the army he was hoping to build to one day combat his uncle. Eventually he’d settled on that area of town because of the mid-century motor court and an abandoned old bank, both of which shared a common parking lot with a decorative island of trees and landscaping in its center. He paid a maid service for the upkeep of the Barracks whenever it was in use, and he was insane about vetting each and every person who was allowed to step foot inside of it and the compound at large.
The abandoned bank that was situated across the parking lot from the Barracks was now the Gravediggers Clubhouse, which I thought was a brilliant choice. Since it had once been a bank, with its fortified walls and vaults and who knew what else, nothing could have been better as a clubhouse, at least from a security point of view. There was also the large lot where Tyr had built the garages and showroom that had become Ride Or Die. He’d then fenced the whole thing in, before quietly buying up other properties around the area, giving the compound an extra cushion of security. Misty was fairly sure the entire strip mall across the street belonged to Tyr, and it wouldn’t have surprised me. With a tattoo parlor, a vape/CBD smoke shop, a pawn shop and a clothing store that specialized in kitting out exotic dancers, it was a biker’s idea of heaven.
As Misty filled me in on the neighborhood and just how fortified the area was, more bikers roared in on their bikes. Several had women riding on the backs, all of them built and gorgeous, and most of them wearing jackets or cuts that had the Gravediggers emblem on the back, framed with curved patches—or rockers—declaring them the property of some biker. With Misty trying her best to educate me on this new world I was in, I was beginning to see that a jacket like that was the biker-world version of an engagement ring.
Personally I preferred the bling, but at least I now had a deeper respect for the jackets.
As our office area began to fill up with the women of Gravedigger club members, Arthur clearly thought that was his cue to disappear from his guard-duty spot by the door. That made sense. No one in their right mind would try to hit me now when every biker chick on the planet seemed to be trying to cram themselves into my office.
As time went on I began to feel like I was a pledge at some hardcore, leather-studded sorority, with most of them looking at me with interest, and a few with guarded hostility. Apparently it was known that I was somehow involved in this latest call to arms, and the women weren’t all that thrilled with their men being put in the line of fire. I couldn’t blame them when it came to worrying about their men; the last thing I wanted was violence to erupt between Tyr’s Gravediggers and Hades’s mother club. But considering how badly Romeo had beaten Hades’s son, I wasn’t sure how it was going to be avoided.
“So. Shiloh, right? I’m Mabel.” A woman with bleached blonde hair, boobs as big as my head and legs that went on for days zeroed in on me where I perched with my butt on the edge of my desk. “Am I hearing this right? You’re the troublemaker behind all this crazy-ass hubbub that’s got everybody in a twist?”
The chatty volume in the room took a noticeable nosedive, and it took all my strength to not stutter and look around for a lifeline. There wouldn’t be one. These ladies all knew each other. They had men they loved who were now stepping up to the front lines of what could be urban warfare. Lives could be lost, and their worlds could be ruined. I understood that, and felt it with all my heart.
But I wasn’t the problem.
“You think I have the power to pit a whole bunch of tough-guy bikers against each other? That would make me pretty freaking scary if it were true, but it’s not. It’s not true because of one obvious fact.”
Mabel folded her arms. “And what’s that?”
“No one on earth can tell those men what to do. Or at least that’s what I’ve found with Romeo.”
Mabel narrowed her eyes before a faint scoff escaped her, and a corner of her mouth curled. “Romeo’s a lot like my Ashtray—hard-living, hard-talking and hard-headed.”
“So basically, you’re saying he’s hard,” another woman called from across the room, and the tension evaporated under a wave of laughter.
“I wouldn’t have my man any other way,” Mabel announced with a bawdy laugh before glancing back at me. “And you’re right, new girl. No one can tell those men what to do. But that’s not going to stop us from trying, is it?”
“Never.” I smiled at her while trying not to gape. Apparently Ashtray’s old lady was the key to my survival among the Gravedigger women, so if I wanted to survive this leather-studded sorority, I’d have to keep my cards close to the vest. “Ashtray, huh? Interesting road name. Do you know how he got it?”
“Oh, do I.” Mabel rolled her eyes while a couple women, including Misty, chuckled. “Some men like to golf. Others have a thing for cars. My man’s favorite pastime is getting into bar fights. If bar-fighting were an Olympic event, he’d get the gold every time. He’s a true master of the game.”
I couldn’t even. I just couldn’t. “I suppose everyone has to have a hobby.”
Mabel burst out laughing. “Oh, new girl, I like you! Yep, bar-fighting is his hobby, and a long, long time ago when Ashtray was just a kid and there were still smoking-designated areas, he snuck into a bar and ordered a beer. Well, of course he was too young for alcohol, so a bouncer tried to throw him out.”
“Bad idea,” Misty said from her place in a visitor’s chair, shaking her head.
Mabel nodded at her. “Damn straight it was a bad idea. That was when my man decided to indulge in his favorite hobby. At some point, he picked up one of those heavy glass ashtrays full of ash and butts and whatnot, and started wailing away at anything that moved. When the cops finally Tased him and he went down like a fallen tree, he was still holding on to it. There he was, half-conscious, yet they had to pry his fingers open just to get that damn ashtray away from him. After something like that, his road name couldn’t be anything else but Ashtray.”
I couldn’t seem to stop shaking my head. “I don’t envy the worry his pastime must give you. Hopefully as he’s gotten older, your man doesn’t feel the need to indulge in his hobby like he did when he was a teenager sowing his wild oats.”
“That was the hope.” Mabel sighed, coming to perch next to me and grabbing up a chocolate truffle Misty had left on my desk. “But I’ll be damned if that idiot didn’t come home just last week with a busted nose and a pair of black eyes. Apparently he took on a couple assholes trying to force a drunk girl out of a bar and into their ride. Fuckers.”
Oh, Ashtray, really? “Wow.”
“I know, right? That’s my man.”
And she was so proud of him. No need to take that away from her. “I’m glad he was there for that girl when she needed him the most. It’s true what my friend Heather says—some heroes don’t wear capes. Sometimes they wear cuts.”
“You know what? You’re right. My man is a hero.” There was movement in the open doorway, where both Ashtray and Romeo appeared. “You hear that, babe? New girl here thinks you’re a hero, and so do I. You can come home with a busted-up face any day of the week, and I won’t say boo about it if it happened while saving some silly drunk girl from a fate worse than death.”
“Mm.” Ashtray made a noise that suggested he had swallowed his tongue as he stared at me, but I just gave him a smile.
“Nice to meet you, Ashtray,” I said, keeping my eyes on his. “I don’t know if Romeo’s ever told you this, but when I was just a teen who’d never even had a boyfriend, Hades’s son kidnapped me, and for three hellish days he… well, he did what a sonofabitch like Marvel does to innocent young girls. So, if you even had a thought of saving a young girl from that kind of fate, this means you’ve got the instincts of a hero. That’s beautiful to me.” I nudged Mabel’s shoulder with my own. “You’ve got a good man in Ashtray, Mabel. Don’t you lose him.”
“Oh, honey.” Tears sprang to Mabel’s heavily made-up eyes, and she put a strong arm around my shoulders to hug me to her side. “Don’t you worry about a thing, you hear me? One way or another our boys will put that fuckweasel Marvel and his asshole father in the ground where they belong. And you,” she added, pointing a scarlet-tipped finger in Romeo’s direction, “you treat this beautiful young thing like the treasure she is, you hear me? She’s a keeper, girls,” she added, beaming at the ladies in the room. “Shiloh, honey, welcome to the Gravediggers family.”
*
“That was cool of you, not ratting Ashtray out to his ol’ lady.” With Romeo’s arm looped around my shoulders, he steered me toward the Barracks and a set of exterior metal stairs leading up to the second story. “In fact, you made him out to be a damn hero. Didn’t see that one coming.”
“Why make waves when we’re already facing a hurricane?” I shrugged, not sure why I’d chosen to let bygones be bygones. Maybe it was because I was in their world now—a world that was starting to feel like mine—and it only made sense to make it as happy as I could.
“I think you did it because you’ve got a soft heart, and you couldn’t stomach making everyone uncomfortable by popping off with the ugly truth.”
“That’s me, Saint Shiloh.”
“Hell, Shy, I wouldn’t know what to do with a saint, but I’m smart enough to know I should thank my lucky stars I found me a knockout of a woman with a booming bod, gorgeous hair, sass for days, and a heart so good she can’t out the guy who’d jumped her in a parking lot at midnight. He wasn’t supposed to tackle you, by the way. He just got caught up in playing his role in the most authentic way he knew how.”
“Ashtray, the method actor.” I shook my head as we climbed the metal stairs. At this point, nothing surprised me. “Apparently Ashtray’s old lady is the leader of the pack when it comes to the Gravedigger women. For a second I thought she was going to eat my liver before we found some common ground.”
“Mabel’s good people. Stick with her and Misty, and you’ll be fine.”
“Does everyone think the Gravediggers are going to war with Hades because of me?”
“What?” He stopped at a door with the number 210 on its face and stared at me like I’d lost my mind. Then he slid an old-fashioned metal key complete with an orange plastic fob in the shape of a diamond out of his pocket and into the lock. “Nobody thinks that, Shy.”
“Mabel’s first words were to literally ask me if I was the so-called troublemaker behind all the hubbub between the two clubs.”
“Ashtray.” He muttered the name like a curse before giving me a hard look. “Some of my dumbass brothers forget themselves and talk about club business with their women. I’m not one of them, because usually club business is about highly sensitive shit that might be misinterpreted, the way Mabel obviously misinterpreted whatever it was Ashtray shared with her. For the record, most Gravediggers don’t even know you exist, so they sure as hell don’t think you’re the reason our two clubs are on the road to war. That’s not only batshit crazy, it’s also weak as hell. We’re Gravediggers, babe. We’d never go to war over some chick.”
“Some chick?”
“Even one as amazing as you.”
“Smooth recovery.” I grinned as he pushed the door open for me and gallantly motioned me inside. I walked into the basic, no-frills motel room with a low ceiling and whitewashed walls. Several boxes and bags of supplies had already been delivered to a room that had a Queen-sized bed covered in a dated orange patterned bedspread, a wall-mounted TV over a black-lacquered cabinet that housed a minifridge and some dresser drawers. A pair of threadbare armchairs, again in orange, flanked a round table next to the window by the door. A silent AC unit was housed beneath the window, which was currently covered in a set of blinds that looked like they’d taken a beating over the years but were still doing their best to hang in there. Other than being dated, the room was clean and well-ordered, and I could almost believe we were vacationing at some quaint roadside motor court awash with the kitschy charm from a bygone era. Certainly the likes of Anthony Perkins would never even think about knifing someone to death in the shower in this cute little place.
“All the comforts of home.” Pleased beyond words, I picked up a remote, aimed it at the TV and gave a cheer when it actually worked. “Cool, we can fight over what we want to watch. Should we arm wrestle or flip a coin to see who wins? I like HGTV, but I’d be willing to bet you’re a fan of the porn channels.”
Smiling, he closed the door behind him. “You’re taking this way better than I’d expected.”
“Really?” Still grinning, I bounced on the edge of the bed, testing its springs. No memory foam, but its bounce was nice and lively and not too loud. Sweet. “What were you expecting, pouty resistance or woe-is-me tears?”
“You don’t do woe-is-me.”
How wonderful that he knew that about me. “The way I understand it, it’s too dangerous for me to go home. If I didn’t have the Barracks to hole up in, I’d either be crashing on my friend Heather’s couch, or sleeping on the streets, since I don’t even have my truck to sleep in anymore. I’m just grateful for the roof over my head.”
He tossed the key onto the table. “Some might say all the trouble that’s hit your life is because of the Gravediggers. Because of me.”
I looked into his eyes and saw the truth there—he actually believed he’d brought all this craziness to my doorstep. “Are you trying to talk me into being mad at you?”
“I just need to know where you stand. Where we stand. A few hours ago you were ready to walk.”
“And we both know how that wound up.” I tingled in my girlie parts just thinking about it. “What’s your real name?”
He blinked. “That’s quite a U-turn. I think I got whiplash on that one.”
“I’m serious. I have a right to know the name of the man I’m sleeping with.”
“Sleep has nothing to do with what we get up to in bed.”
I didn’t say anything, just continued to bounce lightly while looking at him.
He sighed. “Michael Valentine. Want to see my driver’s license?”
Valentine. How perfect for a man named Romeo. “How did you get into this life, Michael? Are you a legacy like Tyr and Marvel—”
“Don’t say that bastard’s name in my presence,” came the surprisingly ominous growl, before he took a slow breath and got whatever was rampaging inside him on a tight leash. “And no, I’m not a legacy. I grew up in the civilian world, with parents who run a small restaurant up in Waukegan.”
I blinked. “Really? Do they serve club sandwiches with extra bacon, French fries with brown gravy and extra pickle spears?”
“If you ask for it, yeah, and that’s still my favorite meal whenever I drop in on them. But I never had any interest in following in their footsteps. When I was a kid, I raced.”
“You raced? You mean like running?”
He shook his head. “I started out like any other kid addicted to speed. I was a BMX champion for two years running. Then motocross, and I did that until I was sixteen or so and won everything in sight. From there I moved on to road racing and speedways and got a shit-ton of sponsors, but it was all so… boring. I kept looking for bigger challenges and one day I ran across Tyr, who also likes to race. We raced, I won, he swore I cheated—I didn’t—and we fought. By the end of it, we both had bloody noses and a promise to race again the next day. Instead, I was kind of adopted by Tyr and his brother Loki, and before I knew it I was part of the Chicago Gravediggers. But by then Hades was just starting to take over, so we jumped ship and started our own chapter. You know the rest.”
I didn’t, actually. But that was enough for now. “And do you really think I should be mad at you, Michael?”
He grimaced, whether at his name or the question I didn’t know. “I’ve had one helluva bad effect on your life since you decided to go all-in with me.”
“The truth is you do affect my life in all the good ways. My brother, however, is another story. Whatever Josh does with his life… it’s going to splash some kind of dirt on me as long as Hades is in power. That jerk uses innocent family members and bystanders to coerce people into doing what he wants, because he’s a tyrant and a bully. Eventually his way of conducting business is going to do him in, since hurting civilians is something the police won’t tolerate.”
“Oh, Hades is going to be gone long before the police get a crack at him,” he said, and the snarl lacing his words made me shiver. “He used up his last straw a couple haystacks ago.”
I nodded. No surprise there. “My point is, if I’m angry at anyone, it’s Hades, but there’s nothing I can do about him. So instead, I’m choosing to be grateful for the things in my life that bring me joy.”
“And what is it that brings you joy?”
I gestured at the clean, quaint little room. “A roof over my head. HGTV. You.”
The shadows in his sea-tossed eyes lightened. “Me?”
“And HGTV.”
“Tease.” The last of the shadows ebbed away, and he smiled at me. “Do presents also bring you joy?”
I stopped bouncing. “Presents? Is it Christmas?”
“Nah, but Christmas is only eleven months away. Might as well get a jump on things before it creeps up on me.” He turned to the pile of supplies that had been neatly stacked by the door and plucked a box off the top of it. It was wide, sort of flat and rectangular, and he handed it to me like there might be a bomb in it. “Open it up.”
“I feel like it’s going to explode.”
“Open it, Shiloh.”
Again with my full name. I hadn’t yet figured out if he did that when he was upset or simply wanted to get my attention. Suddenly swamped with nerves, I put the box on my lap, pried the top open and pushed the tissue paper aside.
The rich scent of leather hit me first, and in an instant I knew what it was even before I’d fully uncovered it. The back of a leather jacket looked up at me from its nest in the box, with the Gravedigger emblem of a Grim Reaper’s sickle piercing a grinning skull, very different from the green and black skeletal emblem of the Chicago Gravediggers. The curved patch—or rocker—on top said, “PROPERTY OF” and the rocker beneath it said, “ROMEO.”
Property of Romeo.
I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to get used to that, after a lifetime of being taught that people could never be property. But I had at least learned that this wasn’t a transactional event of people unwillingly being sold to other people. No. In Romeo’s badass culture, this jacket represented a mutual exchange of two people choosing each other because they knew they belonged together.
If I looked at it from that standpoint, this was the equivalent of an engagement ring, which meant Romeo was asking me a very important question.
“Is…” I had to clear my throat to make it work properly. “Is this for real?”
His scowl was borderline furious. “Do you think I’d have this made as some kind of joke?”
Eek. “I mean, is this a real thing you want me to have, or is this just protection for me while I have to live here with the rest of your Gravedigger brothers? You’re such a protective man, Romeo, and you take the job of looking after me very seriously. So… I’m just wondering if you’re going to want this jacket back after the danger has passed.”
“Shy. Baby.” With a patient sigh, he came to kneel down in front of me. “That’s not how this works. Once you agree to put this on, it’s on. It’s not a lie or some manipulation. I get that after meeting Ashtray earlier today, you might be thinking I’m still playing some kind of Gravedigger game with you, but I’m not. I’m done playing. This is me, being as real and honest with you as I can. And before you give me an answer,” he went on when I opened my mouth to speak, “you should know a couple things. First, I’ve never given a jacket with my name on it to any other woman. Never. I never saw the point of chaining myself to just one woman when there was such a variety out there in the world that needed to be fucked.”
I almost snorted. That sounded like Romeo.
“Then I met you, a citizen, for God’s sake, with your sweet ass, your gorgeous big hair and your untrusting eyes, and I wanted to know why you were the way you were. And the more I learned about you, the more I admired the strength of you, the resilience that keeps you moving forward. You’re the strongest person I know, and I ride with the biggest badasses around. Shit, you put Ashtray’s lights out like it was nothing, then had his ol’ lady believing he was a damn hero over it. Who else would even think of doing something like that?”
“You make me sound like something amazing, and I’m not.” I needed to be very clear about this. “I don’t want you to be disappointed when you find out I’m nothing special.”
Fire burst to life in his eyes. “You only think that because your family treated you like shit when you needed them the most, and because that fucking clown Marvel treated you like you weren’t even human. That left you with scars so deep it made you believe that all the cruelty that hit your life had to be what you deserved. It wasn’t, Shy. It wasn’t deserved. It couldn’t be, because you are my personal definition of perfect.”
Each word chipped away at something deep inside, a terrible insecurity that was like a frozen nugget of poison that constantly leeched into my system. I hadn’t even known it was there, damaging me, until his words hammered away at it. To have it diminished into nothing was like feeling the sun on my skin for the first time.
Somehow, Romeo was healing me without even trying.
“You said there were a couple things about this.” I indicated the box in my lap while trying to adjust to the wonderful new change in my internal world. “What’s the other thing?”
“When you put this on, it’s not just like putting on any old jacket you’ve got hanging in the closet.” His gaze locked so unwaveringly on mine I could honestly believe he didn’t see anything else but me, and that thought made my heart take flight. “You need to know what it represents. If you choose to put this on, you’re agreeing to be mine, Shiloh. My woman. My ol’ lady. My other half. My home and my shelter when shit gets real.”
God, God, this felt like frigging wedding vows. “I see.” I see? Geez, could I sound any weaker? I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat and tried again. “Am I supposed to give you something in return of equal value? Because I’m kind of penniless at the moment. But if you’ll be patient, I can come up with whatever it is I’m supposed to give you.”
A ghost of a smile touched his beautiful mouth. “It doesn’t work quite like that. See, my giving this jacket to you means I’m promising to be your man and no one else’s. I’m promising to be yours, your other half, your home and your shelter. The gift you’d be giving to me in return, if you decide to put that jacket on, will be the greatest gift in the world—you.”
“I see.” Dang it, I said it again. I needed to do better, starting now.
Pulling the jacket out of the box, I shook it out and looked at it. The front was adorned with the usual heavy silver zippers that made a biker jacket a biker jacket, an interior fur collar that was detachable, silver buckles on the side to adjust the waist, and on the left chest there was a smaller Gravediggers patch with the name Shy Girl stitched in silver thread underneath it.
It was glorious.
In silence, he watched me shrug it on. It was a little roomy, heavier than it looked, and for one wild moment I imagined it felt like Romeo’s embrace. Hugging it close around me, I gave him a smile.
“How does it look?”
“Perfect,” he said softly before tackling me back onto the bed, his mouth greedily locking onto mine.