Page 12 of Calypso’s Shield (Royal Harlots MC, Los Angeles Chapter #1)

CALYPSO

R iding to the Royal Bastards compound with Farris pressed tightly against me sends my heart into overdrive.

His body heat seeps through my cut, his solid frame molding against mine.

It shouldn’t feel this good. I shouldn’t be craving him like this, shouldn’t be wishing his hands would slip lower, trailing over my inner thighs, teasing me. But I do. And that’s a problem.

He’s a fucking cop for crying out loud.

He should be off-limits, but the past week with him has been some of the best days of my life.

He’s brought my body alive in ways I didn’t know I needed, and he’s stood by my side, never questioning what my club does.

Farris might scoff at the idea of being a knight in shining armor, but I like thinking of him as my Shield, my protector when I need him, my biggest supporter when I don’t.

The roar of engines fills the night as we pull into the Royal Bastards’ clubhouse. I spot Capone in the center of the lot, pacing, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. His gaze sweeps over us, landing on Farris with an unreadable expression.

Allura pulls up first, leading the way. We kill our engines one by one, the air thick with something unspoken.

Capone exhales a slow stream of smoke and steps forward. “What’s the issue?”

Allura doesn’t hesitate. “We need to talk. Privately.”

I arch a brow but keep my mouth shut. Whatever this is, Allura doesn’t want the rest of us to be involved yet.

Capone flicks his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his boot. “Follow me.”

Without another word, they disappear into the clubhouse, leaving the rest of us in awkward silence.

Tiny rolls his shoulders. “Let’s grab a beer.”

No one argues. We dismount, making our way inside. Music pounds through the speakers, club bunnies grind on pool tables, and old ladies chat in the corner. It’s the usual chaos, but I can’t shake the tension in my gut.

“Calypso, take a seat.” Daisy kicks out a chair for me, her eyes sharp with curiosity. She’s perched on Torch’s lap, looking as comfortable as ever.

Daisy was the first Ol’ Lady I did ink on a while ago when Torch and her started dating. We have grown pretty close over the years and talk every chance we get.

I sink into the chair as a prospect I don’t recognize hands out beers. He’s young, maybe around nineteen or twenty with boyish looks that could charm the panties off an unknown female.

Torch doesn’t waste time. So?” He eyes Farris like he’s a goddamn alien. “Is this your new… what do you call them, Man Candy?”

Divine cackles. “Fuck no. That’s her man , not her Man Candy.”

I shoot her a glare. “Fuck off, Divine.”

Torch nearly chokes on his beer. “You’ve been holding out on us, Calypso.”

I smirk. “Aw, you heartbroken, Torch? Should I have sent out an announcement?”

Torch clutches his chest. “You wound me, woman. After everything we’ve shared.”

I snort. “Everything we’ve shared?”

He gestures vaguely to his crotch. “Yeah, everything.”

Farris’s grip on my shoulders tightens.

Daisy smacks Torch. “She inked your inner thigh, dumbass. That doesn’t count.” She turns her attention to Farris behind me. “Ignore the jackass. She didn’t touch his junk.”

“I didn’t say she did,” Torch grumbles before shifting his focus to Farris. “So, what’s your story?”

Farris shrugs. “You buying?”

“What is this twenty questions. Jesus, just spit it out already.” I grumble.

“That’s what he said.” Tiny rumbles from across the room at the bar.

Everyone starts laughing, and the tension eases slightly.

“Everyone, this is Dalton.” I point to Farris. “Dalton, this is everyone.”

“Hey.” Farris relaxes his grip on my shoulders.

Tiny, Torch, Trigger, Blayze, Dagger, Aftermath, Red, Bones, and Derange all shake and bro slap Farris.

Tiny leans in. “What brings you here, anyway?”

I glance at Sloane, who gives me the same questioning look. “Not sure. Allura called Capone, and now we wait.”

We shoot the shit, throwing jabs and planning the upcoming memorial run until Allura and Capone reappear.

I sit up, reading the look on her face. “All good, Prez?”

“It’s fine,” she says. “Let’s roll out.”

That’s it? I frown but don’t push.

Farris claps Torch on the shoulder. “Thanks for the beer and the laughs.”

Torch grins. “Anytime. And if you ever feel like blowing shit up, I’m your guy.”

The two bro-slap like they’ve known each other forever, and we exchange goodbyes before heading outside.

I fall into step beside Allura, lowering my voice. “What’s up?”

She stops, letting the others pass. “Bring Farris back tomorrow at ten. Capone wants to meet with him.”

I blink. “For what?”

She shrugs. “He’s letting him prospect.”

Shock jolts through me. “Seriously?”

“Yup.” She walks ahead, leaving me to process what the hell just happened.

At my bike, Farris is leaning against it, arms crossed, looking sexy as sin. He cocks an eyebrow. “You good?”

I grin. “Better than good.”

I slide on my helmet and straddle my bike, waiting for him to climb on behind me.

“Hold on tight,” I say, revving the engine. “Shit’s about to get real.”

He tightens his grip around my waist, and for a second, I let myself enjoy it. But my stomach twists. I still haven’t told him about my ex-husband. Or my medical condition. I know I need to. But not now. Not yet.

For now, I gun the throttle, and we take off into the night.

It’s early the next morning, and the rumble of my Harley vibrates through my chest as I pull up in front of the Royal Bastards MC clubhouse, the scent of oil, leather, and burnt rubber thick in the air.

It’s a world Dalton doesn’t belong in yet.

Clean-cut detective, all logic and law. But that’s about to change.

Dalton parks his truck and steps out, his stormy blue eyes locking onto mine as I kick down my stand and straddle my bike. He’s got that look, the one that’s equal parts determination and what the fuck am I doing here?

“You sure about this, Detective?” I smirk, resting my hands on my thighs. “Once you step through those doors, there’s no turning back.”

I told him about meeting Capone today, last night, and let’s say his excitement was more than mine, and he showed me his appreciation all night long.

Dalton snorts, rubbing the back of his neck. “Pretty sure I crossed that line the moment I got on the back of your bike.”

My lips twitch. “That’s true. I still have nightmares about it.”

“Bullshit.” He grins and steps closer, his body heat mixing with the warmth of the L.A. sun. “Admit it, you liked having me hold on for dear life.”

I roll my eyes, fighting the smirk threatening to break free. “Get inside, Dalton. Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes.”

He follows me through the doors and down a long corridor into the Clubhouse. The place is alive, music blasting, laughter echoing, and the scent of whiskey blending with the undeniable energy of controlled chaos. A few Royal Bastards turn to look at us, their eyes narrowing on Dalton.

Capone steps forward, his cut worn and patched with years of earned respect. His sharp, knowing gaze flicks between me and Dalton before he speaks.

“So, this is the cop you brought home?”

Dalton squares his shoulders, unbothered by the weight of Capone’s presence. “Was a cop, Farris Dalton. But something tells me that title won’t matter much here.”

Capone huffs out a dry chuckle. “No, it won’t. You want to prospect for the Royal Bastards?”

Dalton nods, standing firm. “I do.”

Capone studies him for a long moment before shifting his gaze to me. “You vouch for him?”

I hold Capone’s stare and nod. “Yeah. He’s solid.”

Capone runs his tongue over his teeth, then nods. “Alright, Detective. You’re a prospect now. Which means you’re at the bottom of the food chain. You take orders, you prove your worth, and you don’t complain.”

Dalton smirks. “Sounds like my first few years on the police force.”

Capone’s lips twitch. “Good. Then you should survive.” He nods toward the yard out back. “Go with Calypso. If you’re gonna be a prospect, you need to ride.”

Dalton turns to me. “Please tell me you didn’t bring me here just to humiliate me on a bike.”

I slap a hand on his chest and grin. “Oh, Detective, I absolutely did.”

The Royal Bastards' back lot is filled with rows of old bikes, and the sun is high in the sky, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. I lead Dalton over to a backup Harley, a sleek black Softail that’s less aggressive than my usual ride but still a beast in the wrong hands.

Dalton eyes it with the same caution he probably had disarming his first bomb. “Alright, what’s the first step?”

I tap the handlebars. “Get on.”

Dalton mounts the Softail, his movements stiff. I stifle a laugh as he grips the handlebars like they might bite him.

“Relax,” I murmur, walking around him. “The bike isn’t going to fight you unless you piss it off.”

Dalton exhales through his nose. “Noted.”

I stand beside him, hands on my hips. “Alright, listen up. The left foot shifts gears, and the right foot controls the rear brake. The right hand controls the throttle and front brake. The left hand is the clutch. Got it?”

He mutters under his breath. “Yeah, sure. Easy.”

I bite back a laugh. “Okay, first thing. Start her up.”

He turns the key, and the Harley rumbles to life beneath him, his hands tightening instinctively around the grips.

“Good,” I say, circling him. “Now, pull in the clutch, shift into first gear, then slowly, slowly, release the clutch while giving a little throttle.”

Dalton does as instructed, the bike jerking forward slightly before he steadies it. His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t stall it. I’m almost impressed.

“Not bad, Detective.”

He glances at me, smirking. “Told you. I’m a quick learner.”

I cross my arms, watching as he starts rolling forward, his confidence growing. “We’ll see about that. Try shifting to second gear.”

Dalton shifts up, and the Harley surges forward a little too aggressively. He wobbles but corrects it.

“Easy, cowboy,” I tease. “You planning on riding into the sunset, or do you actually want to learn?”

Dalton rolls his eyes but follows my instructions, getting a better feel for the bike. After a few laps around the lot, he pulls back up beside me and kills the engine.

“Alright,” he exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Not bad. What’s next?”

I tilt my head. “Now? We hit the road.”

Dalton blinks. “Wait, what?”

I grab my helmet, throwing my leg over my bike. “Only one way to really learn. You follow my lead. And if you wipe out, well…” I smirk. “Try not to die. I’d hate to lose my favorite detective.”

Dalton shakes his head but grins. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

I fire up my Harley, the engine roaring. “Oh, you have no idea.”

He straddles his bike, starts it up, and nods toward the exit. “Lead the way, Calypso.”

I pull out onto the road, glancing in my mirrors to see Dalton right behind me. He’s still stiff, still adjusting, but he’s keeping up. And damn if that doesn’t make something warm settle in my chest.

For the first time, he’s stepping into my world.

And I have a feeling he’s not turning back.