Wed to the Bad Boy(72)

“Prez has way too much shit to deal with to hang around you, but me? I’ve got just enough business in-house that it makes sense. Besides, when I need to go, the Sergeant-at-Arms can handle you.” He smirked at me.

My uncle had taken back the position of Sergeant-at-Arms now that Sean was gone.

“You bring a bag?” Cullen asked.

“Yeah, it’s in my car.”

“Tommy, bring her car over to my place. I ain’t drivin’ that cage around.”

“It’s actually a rental from Jimmy’s at the airport.”

“Shit. All right. Tommy, go take care of it.” I didn’t know if he could even do that, but I shrugged.

Damn, it had to have been fifty degrees out. Early spring was no time to be riding on the back of a bike. I shivered just thinking about it. Only a few days away from a break in the weather, but we weren't there quite yet.

Cullen must have noticed my hesitance. “Don’t worry, you can wear a winter riding coat and a face mask under your helmet. It’ll keep you warm, that’s for sure.”

Before I knew it, he was behind the bar, rifling through until he pulled out a full balaclava and threw it my way. “Put it on. It goes under this.”

Ugh, a big, hefty leather jacket. The kind that women wore in winter and early spring.

And just a smidge too tight. I could tell as soon as I got the arms on.

“Shit, she looks good in that, huh?” The putz to my left waggled his damn eyebrows at Cullen.

“Shut the fuck up, Troy, or I’ll send you to ride in the cage with Tommy.” The patchless recruit glared at him but kept his mouth shut.

Smart move.

I remembered when he and Sean had patched in. It seemed like each week one of them had a new black eye or busted face. They never could keep their damn mouths shut. Thought they were special because they were legacy.

“Get the fuck out of here, Troy. I don’t want to see your face, or you’ll regret it.” That snarl was real. Cullen was capable of true violence. If I wasn’t aware of that already, I could see it now in his expression.

“What, no nickname?” I asked ’Rage,’ rolling my eyes.

“Hasn’t earned one yet.”

Troy ducked out and ran around the back.

“You don’t change,” I muttered.

“You’d be surprised.”

No, I really wouldn’t. I didn’t intend on staying here long enough to learn any more than I already knew.

Cullen pulled a half mask over his head, the skull printed on it covering his chin, mouth, and neck. He glared at me.

“Get your shit and let’s go.”

Ever so charming.





Cullen

I pulled up the bike and glanced over at her, noticing her, really observing her body for the first time. My mistake.

She was wearing a black pantsuit. It wasn’t exactly jeans, but at least she had the sense not to wear a dress in the cold April weather. Even so, she looked fucking hot.

Shit. She’d just lost her brother.

I tried not to let her body invade my thoughts, but it was hard. Memories of her—of us—they filled my head just when they should’ve been the last thing on my damn mind.

She was a curse.

No, I was the curse. Damned to live this life, the life she rejected.

The one she didn’t want.

Anger filled my veins as I looked around me—at my bike, at my damn clubhouse.

She was right to be angry. To be furious. To want to get away from all of this. It killed everyone I’d ever loved.

It threatened everyone I loved.

And it kept us safe. Safe from extreme poverty. From all those horrors that other people had to suffer. The truth was complicated. Too much for me to deal with at that moment.

Fuck it. It doesn’t matter.

I climbed over my bike and sat down, looking at her. Waiting.

She hesitated.

“You comin’, or what?” I feigned annoyance. It was the only thing I could do to keep all those fucking things hidden down deep inside. The grief, the depression, and everything she made me feel on top of that.

Damn, this girl was infuriating. I watched as she fumbled with the straps of the helmet and put it on.

How long had it been since she rode?

I turned on my bike and revved it up while she hopped on and wrapped her arms around my waist.

Her touch sent sparks of feelings I thought long dead up my spine. Just her warmth through all those layers of clothing was enough to flood my brain with thoughts of her. The past, the dreams. The fantasies.

Fuck.

She shouldn’t have been able to do this to me. Not after all these years.

I shifted into gear and peeled out of the parking lot, hitting the pavement with her holding on tight. Riding in Pittsburgh isn’t the same as anywhere else. The roads are unpredictable. The constant rain pits them and poverty keeps them that way, letting the small cracks turn into potholes and the potholes turn into craters.