I look to Rookie one last time, hoping he has something. But of course, he gives me that fuck it look and shrugs. There is no reasoning with her. Even if I try to tell her how dangerous it is for her to still be in the country, she won’t listen. She’d told me that her life without me was meaningless. I know I’d never leave her, so I can’t fault her for having the same feelings about me. She is my ride or die. My heart swells with the knowledge that what Diem and I have is true love—even if it infuriates the fuck out of me.
I drag my hand over my face, knowing the next three days will likely be the worst in my entire life. With women’s power in mind, I pump my fist in the air. And with zero enthusiasm in my tone, I mumble, “Go team.”
The sound of bikes wakes me early the next morning. It sounds like a fucking parade and I open the blinds in my room to find that there is one. Bike after bike, they roll down the driveway, parking on either side. There are at least thirty and more are pouring in by the minute.
I pull my jeans on, walking outside to find Rookie, Carrie, and Diem already on the porch. “What’s going on?” I ask to no one in particular.
Diem comes to stand next to me, wrapping her arm around my waist. Looking up, she smiles. “They’re here for you.”
Less than an hour later, I’m dressed, our bag is packed, and the Prospects have my bike clean and polished. I look at myself in the mirror, dressed like the Johnny Cash of MCs—all in black. Grabbing my cut from the bed, I look down at the dirty patches and remember when they were white and new. Years of riding, blood, sweat, and tears are in these threads. And I’d earned every damn one of them.
Slipping it on over my shirt, I fasten the chains across my stomach and take a deep breath. This is it. Pulling my riding cap over my head, I grab my full face, turning one last time to look at my bedroom. I’ll come back to it one day. Even if it is just for a visit. This was my home, and even though I’ll miss it, I’m ready to make a new one.
I walk outside, hearing a silence come over the crowd of men here to see me off. I don’t have words for them. The loyalty I’ve shown them over the last eight years is enough. Words are not needed for me on their behalf either. Just having them here is more than I ever could have asked for. So I just look out at all of them, and offer them a nod of respect.
Diem is standing next to my bike, looking every bit the biker-bitch part. She and Carrie had done some shopping yesterday, and I remind myself to thank her for it later. Black leather pants cover her legs, accenting her toned thighs. Knee-high riding boots with a six-inch heel have never looked more sexy on a woman. And the black shirt she wears shows off her perfect tits and molds to her tiny body.
Damn.
She walks over to me, crossing her ankles on every step like she’s on a runway—one of the first things I noticed about her. “What is it about a bad boy in leather?” she asks, dragging her eyes up and down my body.
“Nobody does leather better than you, pretty girl.” Wanting nothing more than to squeeze her ass in those tight little pants, I clench my fists, knowing if I get started, I won’t stop. “We need to go over a few things,” I start, but she shakes her head.
“I’ve been lectured for the past thirty minutes. Trust me, I know the rules.” To emphasize, she starts calling them off on her fingers. “No bitching, no whining, no complaining, and no fucking tears.” Her voice deepens on the last one, and I know that Chaps is here somewhere. He can’t stand to see a woman cry. I guess that’s why he sticks to the whores—not that I blame him.
Jimbo comes over, eyeing Diem a little too appreciatively, but I decide to let it go. “We’ll follow you out of town, but then we gotta get back. Someone has to run shit now that I’m losing my best man.”
“Thanks, Jimbo. For everything.” I shake his hand respectfully, remembering the sacrifices he’s made for me. Not only is he letting me go, but he gave me the time I needed to do right by Dirk. And I’d never forget it.
“A little something for the lady,” he says, pulling a vest from his bag. “I believe any woman that can capture your heart, deserves to wear your patch.”
I get nervous, wondering how Diem will react when she sees the Property of words on the back of her cut. If she shows her ass, I’ll have to kill her. But she stands proud, a sparkle of pride in her eyes to wear something that means so much to me.
“I’d be honored,” she whispers, holding her arms out for me to slip the patch on her back. She looks down at her name, running her fingers over the threads. She starts to get a little teary eyed, but laughs and fans herself. “Does it look good on me?” Her laughter fills my ears, clenches my heart, and touches my soul.