She nods to me as if the last time I saw her she wasn’t in the midst of a seizure and I wasn’t screaming for Oz to help. Her blue scarf covers her head. Her jeans as tight as normal. She has gold dangling earrings that almost touch her shoulder. She wears that black top again that resembles a corset. As always, she’s striking and radiates kick-ass.
But as I step closer to her, there’s a slow deliberateness to her movements. A tiny quiver of her hand and that tremor slowly progresses up her arm. I slide up beside her and ease my fingers underneath hers and she grasps on to me. The slight shake of her body would only have been noticed by someone standing near. She knows this and so do I.
Olivia inclines her head and we walk together on the porch, past my window and the seat Oz has used as a bed for too many weeks. The lone sound in the yard is our footsteps against the wood. Hand in hand we reach the corner of the porch and there’s a part of me that feels self-conscious that everyone stares.
A breeze rushes through the trees. The leaves clap against each other and a few maple helicopters drift to the ground. There are so many men in the yard. Seventy. Eighty. A hundred. So many. Too many. And Olivia and I have their undivided attention.
The wind dies and this moment is too intense with silent expectation. I search the crowd for Oz and when my eyes meet his, he imperceptibly nods at me. The world fades away and, suddenly, I can breathe again.
I wait for Olivia to do whatever it is everyone is expecting her to do, but nothing happens.
“Are you supposed to wave or something?” I whisper. When Olivia raises an eyebrow, I curl my hand and tilt it side to side. “Like the queen does on TV?”
She laughs. The loud one. The one from when we first met that scared the hell out of me and, this time, I can’t help but giggle along with her. She squeezes my fingers, releases them, then cups my face as she leans over and kisses one cheek and then another.
“If I’m the queen, then you’re the princess, and this is your kingdom.”
When she lets go of me, Cyrus calls out, “Reign of Terror!”
“Hoo-ra!” is the answering rumble.
“Reign of Terror!”
“Hoo-ra!”
“Reign of Terror!”
“Hoo-ra, Reign of Terror!”
Someone applauds and the entire yard bursts into noise. Both Eli and Oz are grinning at me. I can’t help the silly and shy smile forming back.
“This is your family,” Olivia says to me. “If you learn to love us then you will forever have our love in return.”
I think I am falling in love and that love would belong to Oz. I search for Oz again and I spot him just as Eli slings an arm around his neck and leads him away from me and into the clubhouse.
“Come on,” Olivia adds. “We have a ton of work to do and not enough time to do it.”
Oz
I TOOK A quick shower in the clubhouse’s bathroom, changed clothes and now I’m bounding up the stairs to Church. Hook’s at the door and opens it the moment he sees me. This is nothing like the last time I was invited in here. Each man at the table peers at me as I walk in and it’s not with the look they had last time, as if I were a man strapped in the electric chair.
I don’t know what the hell just happened outside with me in the middle of it, but whatever it is, it’s good and I’m walking on air. There’s no doubt I’m becoming a prospect today and odds are I’ll be working for the business, as well.
Cyrus owns the seat at the head of the table and my eyes flicker to Eli, who sits on his right, and then Dad, who sits on his left. Neither of them gives anything away with their blank expressions. I’ve never seen a guy receive his cut before. It’s a private ceremony during Church.
“We’re having a party tonight,” announces Cyrus.
My muscles go stiff. “Where do you want me to take Emily?”
“She’s going to be here for it,” says Eli. “At least until we send the families home.”
It’s club rules: no kid at the clubhouse after eight at night. This brotherhood is family-oriented, but it’s still a motorcycle club and the partying can get fucked up and crazy.
I pop my neck to the side to release some of the tension. I’ll overstep my welcome by speaking out of turn, but this involves Emily and it’s already hard not to lash out like a pissed-off bear. “What about her safety? You said that the Riot was thirty miles north of here last night. And if that’s not an issue anymore, then remember how pissed you were at the funeral home at the idea of people knowing she was around? We bring in strangers and news will spread that your daughter is here.”
That the girl I love is staying here.
The girl I love.
My heart beats hard as the realization plows into me. Last night, I said I was falling, but I was dead wrong. The falling did happen, but it happened over time. Happened without my knowledge. I love Emily. I am in love.
And the girl I love is in danger.
The gun in the holster at the middle of my back grows heavier. Cyrus asked me weeks ago if I had the balls to do what needed to be done. When it comes to protecting Emily, hell yeah, I own a pair.