The club’s founding members are all from Detroit, and they spent the majority of their lives in the Motor City while their kids were growing up and they were working. This place was always special for Clutch, Amber’s granddad, though. After coming back from war, he holed up here, at this motel, for a few months before Mary hunted him down and brought him home. It was out here in the desert, with nothing for miles around, that Clutch found a way to live in a world he no longer understood. Some of the younger guys don’t know the history—they never bothered to check it out. One of the first things Amber’s dad, Thumper, ever said to me—after he said, “Touch my daughter and I’ll fucking kill you”—was to impart Forsaken’s history on me. It was important to him—still is—that people understand why we exist. We were founded on the philosophy that no man should have to adhere to a government they don’t believe in. No man should be forced to kill for any cause but his own. Forsaken makes our own laws. We don’t force others to live our way, and won’t be forced into living theirs. We exist outside the social structure that makes others feel safe. Because only outside of that safety net are we free.
“You didn’t bring my babies,” Mary chides. I reach down and brush my thumb against her cheek. She narrows her worn eyes and bites back a smile.
“Next time,” I promise.
“You flirting with my man?” Amber says teasingly, over my shoulder. She walks up and kisses Mary on her head. They had their reunion earlier, but they’ve always been close. I like seeing them together. Being around all these old farts gives me hope that we might live long enough to be that old and wrinkly.
“You can call him yours when you have his ring on your finger.”
I give Mary a look that tells the old broad to shut the hell up, but it does no good. One of the few people Chel keeps in contact with regularly is her grandma. Mary always said that all women take dick for protection. It’s just a question of whether or not she’s treated like a whore just in the bedroom or on the street as well. So when Mary gets going on this ring business, I know damn well why.
“I have his tattoo on my back and his two babies,” Amber says snidely. “That’s enough.”
I pull her against me.
“I’m tired, Mary. Gonna hit the sack.”
Mary waves us off. As we move away from the cabin, I catch sight of Alex and Ryan standing by Rage’s cabin, talking to him. Rage, Ryan’s grandfather and Jim’s father, reaches out and pulls Alex toward him. He places a kiss on her cheek. Well, shit. The crazy little bitch won over Rage.
“Where are you at with that?” Amber says, nodding toward Alex. She’s not asking if I approve of her or her relationship with Ryan. She wants to know if we plan on voting her in.
“Giving it time. Once shit settles, gonna talk to Trigger about it.” Ryan came to me right after I took the gavel to see if getting Alex voted in was ever going to happen. I told him basically the same thing—that once we get past this war with Mancuso, we can revisit the idea. The last thing we need is tension among the brothers, though I’m not sure there would be any anymore. Still, it’s not worth it.
“Good. She’s young and a little soft around the edges, but Ryan could use soft. I like her.”
“Of course you do,” I say and pull her into the cabin Clutch told us we could have for the night. Our cabin is toward the back of the property, one of the better-shielded buildings. Our cabin is also in better condition than most of them. The water runs fairly evenly, and the small window unit actually heats the place up reasonably well. I’d have given it to another couple, but I won’t question my elders. I’m a charter president, and that demands respect, so I let it go. Besides, I want my woman as warm and comfortable as can be. Even if I am still annoyed with her over that shit she and the other women pulled at the clubhouse.
“It’s been years since I’ve spent that long on a bike,” she says as she yawns and plops down on the bed.
“You too tired to fuck?”
“Nah, but don’t expect any special moves.”
I move toward her, shoving my hand in my jeans pocket. This little bastard has been burning a hole in my pocket the entire ride. I’ve had it for months but wanted to wait until Mancuso was taken out. Now, though, this feels like the right time. Regardless of what happens in the next few days, I want my woman knowing where I stand. We might not be in that crazed, early stages of falling in love anymore, but what we have is way better than that. I’m completely myself around this maddening woman. She doesn’t try to show me what she thinks I want, not that I think she ever did. Amber is the same in many ways as she always has been with one exception—she’s more now. Fiercer, brighter, more beautiful. Stronger, louder, more vulnerable. She’s everything I ever wanted in a woman, even when she pisses me off. And if I weren’t so goddamn tired and sore and worried about the coming days, I might tell her this shit.
But I don’t.
Instead, I just climb into the bed next to her, shrugging off my cut and boots, dropping my jeans, and taking off my shirt. The only things I don’t rid myself of are my boxers and the diamond ring in my hand.
My eyes are glued to her as I watch her strip down to her underwear. She lies back down beside me and smiles teasingly.
“I’m not going to do everything for you.”
“You do enough,” I say. “I can handle your panties, but don’t blame me if I destroy them in the process.”