Page 51 of Desert Sky (RB MC #4)

JD

T he wind off the Pacific slapped me in the face as I stepped out of the black SUV and into the Malibu sunset, flanked by the loudest crew of bastards this side of Santa Fe.

“Welcome to paradise, boys,” River declared, throwing his arms wide. “Where the tequila flows like holy water and the girls think scars are foreplay.”

Edge let out a bark of laughter as he clapped me on the back. “You ready to drown your last few hours of freedom in whiskey and regret?”

“I already did that when I let Regan help plan this,” I muttered. But I couldn’t lie—being surrounded by my MC brothers, the air smelling like sea salt and sex, the warm breeze making my kutte flutter—I felt alive.

Tarak tossed a duffel at my chest. “We brought board shorts. The Malibu chapter says we ain’t real men ‘til we try surfing.”

I stared at him. “You want me to risk my spine before I marry the mother of my child? ”

“Come on,” River grinned. “You think Skye wouldn’t love a honeymoon pic of you face-planting into the Pacific?”

They were relentless. We changed at the beach house—a sleek, glass-and-steel monstrosity perched on the cliffs, courtesy of one of our “legit” club investments—and met up with the Malibu charter at the sand.

A dozen local brothers greeted us, shirtless, shredded, tanned within an inch of their lives. Their women looked like every one of them moonlighted in adult films or on reality TV.

“This ain’t Santa Fe anymore,” Edge muttered, eyeing the hot-pink bikini parade walking by with a surfboard. “If I die here, tell Regan I died with a boner.”

The surf lesson was chaos. River lost his board in the first thirty seconds and blamed the tide.

Tarak actually managed to ride a wave for a full three seconds and flexed like he’d discovered fire.

Edge just dove in headfirst, nearly tackling a guy from the Malibu crew because he thought he saw a jellyfish.

I stood waist-deep in the water, watching the sun burn down the sky. Despite the noise and the laughter, my mind wasn’t here. It was back in Santa Fe… thinking about Skye.

How her face had crumpled just a little when I told her I was too busy to do dinner. How she hadn’t asked questions when I kissed her breathless before I left—just clutched my kutte like it could keep me from going.

She thought this was just another club trip. She had no idea what was waiting for her.

No idea she was walking into her own wedding.

We hit the town that night. The Malibu boys brought us to some rooftop bar that screamed money and sin. Velvet ropes. DJs with cheekbones. Bottles of champagne that cost more than my first Harley .

And then came the Barbies.

They swarmed us like we were a novelty act—the savage kings of the desert dressed in black and leather, dropped into a land of lip fillers and Hollywood filters. They ran their hands over tattoos and asked if we were in a band. One of them asked if we were actors.

“I act like I got patience,” River told her, tipping back his shot.

One blonde with impossibly long legs zeroed in on me. “So what’s the occasion, handsome?”

Edge practically spat out his drink laughing. “Tell her, JD.”

I gave her a polite smile. “Bachelor party.”

“Ohhh,” she cooed. “Is it too late to ruin your marriage?”

“Sweetheart,” I said, leaning in just enough to keep it friendly but firm, “you couldn’t ruin what I’ve got with her if you lit the whole damn town on fire.”

The guys hollered, cheering, drinks sloshing everywhere.

“Damn,” Tarak said, wiping his mouth. “You’re whipped.”

“No,” I said, tossing back my whiskey. “I’m ready.”

Still, it hadn’t stopped them from giving me shit. About how I forged her signature with club connections. About how I was dragging her into ever after without ever bending the knee.

“You ever think about actually asking her?” Edge asked later, back at the beach house with our feet up and cigars in hand.

“I don’t need to ask. She already said yes in all the ways that matter.” I paused, eyes on the horizon. “She just doesn’t know it yet. ”

He grunted. “That’s either romantic as fuck or insane. Maybe both.”

I grinned. “She knew what she was getting into when she loved me the first time.”

“Yeah,” River said, flicking ash into the wind. “But now she’s getting all of us too.”

“To the wildest woman we know,” Tarak toasted, raising his glass.

“To the one who came back,” I added.

We drank to that.

And in the quiet that followed, I prayed to whatever god might still listen that I was doing right by her.

Because this wasn’t just a party. It was the beginning of forever.