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Amber wouldn’t know. She doesn’t sleep with us older guys. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen Amber with anyone for quite a while.

“What about you? Who’s warming your bed?”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Show me yours, I’ll show you mine?”

“I already know yours. I know a lovesick man when I see one. You and King are two peas in a pod.” She giggled.

I felt a little stir inside my jeans, but it faded fast. Amber might be beautiful with her dark brown hair and green eyes, but she wasn’t who I wanted. There was just something about a woman when she giggled that turned me the fuck on.

“Difference is he knows where his girl is. But he wants to play the fucking martyr,” I snarked.

“Yea. Well, we all have our reasons.” Amber sighed and once again I felt like a dick.

“I’m sorry, Amber. I didn’t mean—”

“Pfft. We all have trauma we’re dealing with. Having Haizley here helps. Though I do miss actually getting to leave the clubhouse.”

“It was good while it lasted, huh?”

“Yea.” Amber looked around the room. What she was looking for, I wasn’t sure.

“Do you have any idea why King locked you down?” I asked, hoping for some hint at what King was hiding.

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him; I trusted that man with my life. But we could protect Amber better if we knew what the fuck we were protecting her from.

“I don’t.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“No. I know I’m safe here. The guy who held me in that cell is dead. My father is dead. The only guy left is Dan. And I can’t see him coming to look for me. I’m convinced the reason he sold me when he did was because he was done with me. So, what is there to fear? I’m nobody. Especially here.”

“You aren’t nobody, Amber.” I slipped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “We love you. And obviously someone else does too. Or at the very least, wants you. Without knowing who or why, they could walk right in and hurt you.”

“I know you guys would never allow that. Besides, I have no footprint. No way for anyone to track someone who doesn’t exist.” She looked around and then leaned in and whispered, “Amber isn’t even my real name. It’s Bethany.”

“Really? You don’t look like a Bethany.”

“Yea, well, you don’t look like a Ghost,” she disputed, and then giggled again.

“How many beers have you had tonight?”

“Too many,” she said, placing the bottle on the bar.

“Archie! Walk Amber to her room.”

The prospect hurried over and put his arm around Amber’s waist. She swung her own around his shoulders and asked, “Wanna spend the night, Archie?”

“Maybe another time, Amber.”

Amber pouted, and I nodded to Archie. That was the right fucking answer. She may be a club girl, but we still required fucking consent.

And when Archie disappeared down the hall with a very drunk club girl, I waited and made sure he came back in a reasonable amount of time. Archie was a good kid. He was smarter than the other prospects, but some of the guys thought he was weak. He was a skinny kid, with not much muscle.

Honestly, being a biker wasn’t about size. It wasn’t about intelligence either. Thank God.

No, it was about brotherhood and riding. The rest of the shit was just noise. However, Archie was often put on old lady detail. Not just being at their beck and call, but protecting them.