“Fuck.” I check for my gun in my waistband. “I need your Glock, man. I forgot mine.” I say this like it’s not a big deal, even though this has never happened. Never. My Glock is the one thing I always have.
“Ox.” I narrow my eyes. “I’m tracking her. Watch her. If she goes out, let me know.” He stares at me like I’ve grown horns.
“Your Glock.” I hold out my hand.
“You sure you’re o—” My stare makes him stop. Removing his cut, he hands me his holster and gun.
Ox is way more anal about safety than me. I’m tempted to stuff it in the back of my waistband, but this isn’t my only stop today, so a holster probably is best.
“Don’t worry.” I grin, putting the Glock in the holster. “I’ll give it back.”
I twist the throttle, and Ox shakes his head at me. I’m barely out of the compound when I hit slight traffic, which is fine—it’s enough to distract me into being able to think straight.
Blade’s right. My ass is on the line. I’m the one who put the bullets in the fucking scumbags’ heads. This is my mess to clean up, along with dealing with Julianna.
And even though I’m not in the mood for this meeting with Rex, he’s showing respect. I can do the same. Never know when a Sinner can do you a favor.
I probably should send Amy flowers. She’s like a mother to me… Yeah, I definitely need to do that. And fucking Rip… Now that I’m calm, I guess I’ll need to have a conversation, letting him and everyone know that Julianna is mine. She’s staying. Now that she’s here, I can’t be distracted worrying about her while I fix this fuckup. I smirk thinking about tonight. Getting on the back of Rip’s bike? Unacceptable.
Julianna will learn: bad girls get punished.
JULIANNA
Present
Disciples’ clubhouse
Burbank, CA
A loud yell, followed by bad heavy metal music, wakes me with a start. Sitting up, I glance at his side of the bed.
Empty. He’s gone. I vaguely remember him telling me to go back to sleep early this morning.
My phone vibrates again. Sighing, I throw the sheet off me and try to get my legs to work. I’m full-on shaky. Not sure if it’s from all the sex, or the excitement that comes with waking up in Ryder’s bed. Probably a bit of both.
After grabbing my phone off his nightstand, I notice my bag by the door. I was wondering what happened to it.
It’s like I’m in a fog, sluggish from orgasms and lack of sleep; although, my heart kind of flips thinking that it’s Ryder calling.
It’s not though. It’s my dad. Perfect.
“Hello?”
“I’ve had enough of this behavior, Julianna—”
“Dad, let me stop you right now. I love you, you’re my father, but I’m sorry. You need to mind your own business.”
Dead silence, so much so that I actually look down at my phone to see if he’s hung up. He hasn’t. I guess telling him I love him has rendered him speechless.
Finally, he clears his throat. “I know you’re in Los Angeles. I’ve called a family meeting. It’s important you attend.” I look down at my toes—they’re a cute pale pink. Everything on me is manicured and perfect, from my hair to my toes.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” I think I hear someone in the background curse, but strangely I don’t care.
“I suggest you rethink this—”
I cut him off. “Are you sick? If that’s the case, then when the time is right, I’ll come back, but right now, I’m busy.”
“Living with criminals?” he snaps, his voice ugly. “Yes, I know all about him. Do you honestly think I’d allow my child to lower herself by spending time with a biker?”
For a second, I freeze, then look around, which is stupid. If there is one place I know I’m safe, it’s in this room, in this clubhouse. Still, I grab one of Ryder’s shirts to pull over my nakedness.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I am visiting a friend, which, since I’m twenty-eight years old, is none of your business.” I refuse to engage with his entitled snobbery. Trying to correct him won’t make a difference anyway. And really, Ryder is, by his own mouth, a bad guy. Adrenaline fills me as I think about how exciting he is. I don’t care if he’s a criminal; he makes me feel safe. That and he’s fucking hot.
“Don’t make this difficult. Come back. I don’t want this to be any uglier than it has already gotten.” His voice is curt, as if I’m ten and being told that my table conversation was not appropriate.
“I have to go. You do what you think is best. I’ll have my lawyer get in touch with Matthew. You can let him know for me since I hear him cursing in the background.”