Page 22 of Finn

She raised an eyebrow. "More? I don't know if my heart can take it."

I took her hand again, running my thumb across her knuckles. This was the part I'd been building toward. The part that mattered.

"In the club, when a man finds his woman—his real woman, the one he wants to spend his life with—he makes it official. She becomes his old lady."

Chloe's breath caught.

"It means you're family," I continued. "Protected. Untouchable. Anyone messes with you, they answer to me and every Guardian in the club. It means you're mine, and I'm yours, and nothing comes between us."

I met her eyes, letting her see everything I was feeling. All the fear. All the hope. All the love I didn't know I was capable of until she walked into my life.

"I'm asking you to be mine, Chloe. Officially. Publicly. My old lady."

The silence stretched between us, filled only by the gentle lap of water and the pounding of my own heart. I waited, barely breathing, for her answer.

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she pulled her hands from mine and stood up, turning to face the water. My stomach dropped. Had I pushed too fast? Asked too much?

Then she turned back, and the look on her face made my heart stutter.

"I'll be your old lady," she said.

I started to grin, started to reach for her?—

"But."

I froze.

She stepped closer, close enough that I could see the firelight of the fading sunset reflected in her eyes.

"I'm not going to sit at home waiting for you to come back from runs. I'm not going to be arm candy at club parties. And I'm sure as hell not going to stop being useful just because I've got your patch on my back."

She poked a finger into my chest.

"I'm in this with you. Partner. Equals. I've got access to information that can help the club, and I'm going to use it. I've already proven I can handle myself under pressure. So if you want me as your old lady, you're getting all of me. The brain, the backbone, and the bullshit detector. Deal?"

I stared at her. This fierce, fearless, impossible woman who'd upended my entire life in the best possible way.

Then I laughed. A real laugh, deep from my belly, the kind I hadn't let out in years.

"Deal," I said. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

She grinned—that wicked, fox-like grin that had caught my attention through the bars of a holding cell all those weeks ago—and threw her arms around my neck.

"Good answer, big boy."

I kissed her again under the emerging stars, slower this time, savoring it. My old lady. My partner. My Chloe.

When we finally pulled apart, she was shivering a little in the evening chill.

"Take me home," she said. "And I don't mean my apartment."

"Yes ma'am." I led her back to the bike, helped her on, and felt her arms wrap around me like they belonged there. Because they did.

The ride back to my place was the best ride of my life.

11

CHLOE