Blood & Bones: Whip (Blood Fury MC 11)

“An Indian Scout Bobber Twenty,” Whip answered for her.

Syn’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Badass, that’s what it is,” he answered.

“What happened to Maya?” Fallon glanced around, not seeing the little girl anywhere. “She’s adorable, by the way.”

“She left with my brother. You didn’t see her leave?” She lifted one dark eyebrow at Whip. “You must’ve been distracted.”

They had been. Whip was easy to talk to and the conversation wasn’t only one-sided like the last time she attempted dating men within her professional circle. “Her crush on Whip is very cute.”

“Whip probably doesn’t think so.” Syn released a resigned-sounding sigh. “But we’d rather her crushing on Whip than some man we can’t trust.”

“I’m sure,” Fallon murmured, wondering where that worry came from.

Maybe it was her motherly instinct. Something Fallon didn’t have a speck of at this point. But then, her focus had been solely on her career and not having a family. She’d have to revisit that at some point before she got much older. Maybe once she returned from a trip abroad. If she returned. If she fell in love with an area somewhere other than in the States, she’d have no problem staying.

In truth, as long as she could afford it, she could move to a different country every year and immerse herself in new languages and cultures.

That might be a great idea.

But that would be later since she was currently sitting in a bar in a small town in Pennsylvania and immersing herself in a new-to-her culture with its own language. Bikers and MCs.

One habit she had gotten into during her climb to the top was to compliment other women. There was no benefit in cutting other women down, but even a simple compliment could make their day and lift their spirits. A very simple premise not enough women followed.

The saying “a rising tide lifts all boats” was originally associated with the economy but Fallon found it fitting when it came to women supporting each other.

Fallon pointed to Syn’s neck. “Your cat head choker is really cute. I’ve never seen one like that.”

Across from her, Whip choked on his sip of beer. He put the glass down and slapped his chest as he coughed.

“You okay?” Fallon asked him. “Did you inhale instead of swallow?”

He waved a hand around. “I’m good,” he managed to get out on another cough.

“I need to grab something to eat,” Syn announced unexpectedly. “Nice meeting you, Fallon.”

Before Fallon could respond, Syn was gone. She turned to Whip. “Did I say something wrong? I didn’t even get a chance to tell her how much I enjoyed her singing.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I want to apologize if I’ve offended her in some way,” Fallon insisted. Her comment was meant to be a compliment not an insult.

“You didn’t. I don’t think she talks about her collar.”

Fallon blinked. “Her collar?”

“Ain’t a choker. Well, I guess it could be, but it’s a collar. With a buckle and a lock you can’t see ‘cause it’s hidden under her hair.”

“A lock?” Fallon shook her head. “I’m a little lost here. Is it a new fashion trend that I’m unaware of?” Since landing the job with White Rock right out of college, she never paid attention to fashion or trends except for business attire.

Now she kept her wardrobe of casual clothing simple. Items that didn’t wrinkle when rolled tightly for packing in limited space, as well as clothes easily washed and able to withstand riding a bike. She had traded in her business suits and heels for jeans and boots.

“Dodge collared her.”

Fallon let that sink in. It took a few seconds but she began to see the light. “So, they’re into kink?”

“Can only assume that. Whether they are or they ain’t, with them it’s more of a commitment thing. Like a weddin’ ring. Syn belongs to Dodge. It’s one way to show others that she’s taken.”

While she understood the concept of dominants and submissives—if that was what it was in their case—she wondered if that type of lifestyle was typical for an MC. “Is collaring a normal thing in your club?”

“No. The women usually get a ‘property of’ cut similar to Maya’s when one of us takes a woman as their ol’ lady. Kids get denim, while ol’ ladies get leather like their ol’ man.”

She stared across the table at Whip. Suddenly Syn’s choker and Maya’s vest weren’t so cute. “Are you saying that in your club both women and children are considered property of a man?”

As she watched his expression close and become unreadable, she realized that was exactly what he was saying. Especially when he picked up his beer and gulped the remainder down.

Oh yes, he wanted to avoid that answer.

“Tell me, why would a woman want to be property of a man?” Because Fallon certainly didn’t understand it. It seemed archaic.