Welcome to the Dark Side (The Fallen Men 2)

I squeezed her hip, dipped my head ’cause I needed to be closer to the pure blue of those fantastic eyes. “Been on it before, little Lou.”

“Don’t remind me.” She rolled her eyes then grinned wryly up at me. “I’m choosing to believe this is the first time. Although if I remember correctly, I liked the way you held me Koala style, front to front.”

A low hum of approval worked itself up my throat before I could stop it ’cause the memory of holdin’ her so close, her warm crotch up against my own as I pressed her chest to mine… it’d been a feature fantasy one too many nights of jerkin’ off.

“Let’s try it traditional this time,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “Such a boring old man.”

I swallowed thickly as she trailed her hand down my arm and casually wrapped her little fingers through my own so she could tug me forward.

“Bye Smoke, thanks for letting me use the sniper rifle!” she called, waving madly at the man.

He lifted a hand and his chuckle followed me as I let Lou lead me over the grass to my waiting Harley. It was a FXR model I’d outfitted and customized myself over the years so that it suited me to a fuckin tee. She was a beaut and anytime I left ’er outside a truck stop on a run with the club, I’d find bike enthusiasts crowdin’ around takin’ pictures of the silver-and-black beast. Soon as they saw me, they were quick to back off but I didn’t mind because a thing of beauty deserved to be ’precciated.

I shot a look at Lou and watched her eyes reverently caress the bike like it was a loved one.

Her hand was shaky as she placed it on the bitch seat and stroked the soft leather. “My knight in leather on his beast of metal,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder at me. “That’s what I thought when I first saw you. What kind of knight was that?”

“One part of a different kinda brotherhood.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Modern-day warriors.”

“Don’t romanticize it, little girl,” I warned her. “You know what they say about those scary folk tales, there’s a kernel a truth to ’em.”

She slanted me a look that was wiser than her years and reminded me of the precocious girl she’d been, writin’ to a man in prison and advisin’ him like she’d been born to do it.

“Don’t insult me. We met amid a hail of gunfire and the first time we touched, a bullet connected us chest to chest. Don’t pretend I don’t know all that you are.”

“You know shit about it,” I insisted, leanin’ forward to loom over her.

She blinked placidly up at me, unaffected the way most grown fuckin’ men were by my sheer size. She placed a hand above my heart where the scar we shared marked my own chest. “I know enough and when you’re ready to share more, I won’t run away scared because you’re the person I’ve always run to when I am.”

“No touchin’,” I rasped, hatin’ that my heart beat harder against her palm like it wanted closer to ’er.

Surprisingly, she backed off with her hands in the air and a wicked smile on her full mouth. “Sorry, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl.”

I ran a hand down my face, scrubbing at the wariness behind my eyes as I listened to her laugh at my reaction.

Fuck me, I was too old for this shit.

And fuck me if it didn’t make me feel young again and freer than I’d ever been before.

I swung my leg over the bike, tossed her the helmet, and braced myself as she carefully perched on the seat behind me.

“Gonna have to hold on, Lou,” I reminded her sarcastically.

“Oh, I’m allowed to touch you, then?” she asked innocently.

I revved the engine and grinned at her resultin’ squeal as her arms shot around my chest and wrapped tight, bringing her hot body against the back of my cut. Then, ’cause I knew it’d make her laugh and the sounda that laugh was quick becomin’ my Achilles heel, I gunned outta the parking lot, fishtailin’ slightly so for a brief second, it felt like we were flying.

I was right, she laughed and she did it loud, pressed against my back and right into my ear.

I had a plan.

It had been a long week of spending time with Zeus again and it was, by far, the best week of my life. I’d spent an evening at Eugene’s Bar with a bunch of the brothers and met more of them, including two guys I didn’t like much, Blackjack and the creepy, silent copper haired man named Priest who I recognized as the man who’d told me to stop watching The Fallen Compound years ago. They both gave me the creeps because they always watched Zeus or me with inscrutable expressions on their faces, so it was impossible to tell what they were thinking.