Page 25

We sipped our beers as slowly the group around us dissipated, returning to their previous activities of shooting pool, playing darts, or slumping on couches. Maverick gestured for me to stand, and we moved across the room so we wouldn’t be in the center of the clubhouse.

He leaned down to murmur in my ear. “You okay?”

I nodded, still scanning the crowd. “I think so. This is intense. I’m not used to being called property, though,” I admitted with a tight smile.

He brushed his knuckles gently along my jaw. “I know it’s weird. But it’s how it works here. It’s the best way to keep you safe. No one messes with another man’s old lady. Understood?”

I let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I get it. Like in my books. Except it’s, you know… real. And maybe less romantic than I imagined. And aren’t old ladies your wives?”

A flicker of a smirk played on his lips. “Don’t worry, princess. We’ll get to the romantic part, eventually. And yes, once you claim a woman as yours might as well be married to her.”

My chest fluttered at the way he said married. I had no business feeling giddy, but damn if his voice didn’t make me weak in the knees.

He cleared his throat, standing straighter. “Lemme show you around a bit. Then we’ll head to my room. I gotta talk to some of the guys, see if anyone’s got leads on who might be after you.”

I nodded, letting him guide me through the clubhouse. We passed a hallway lined with doors, bedrooms or offices. A loud snore drifted from one, while music thumped from another. The entire place reeked of beer, leather, and cigarette smoke, weed, too, with a faint undercurrent of motor oil.

In a glass display case near the end of the hall, I saw old patches from members who’d presumably died or retired. My gaze lingered on a battered black-and-white photo, a group of bikers from decades ago, staring defiantly at the camera.

Maverick pointed to a heavy steel door. “That’s the back entrance. Locked up tight at night.” Then he led me farther, stopping in front of a door with a menacing skull decal. “This is mine.”

I raised my brows. “You have a room? You live here?”

He produced a key. “I move around a lot. Being a nomad has perks. But yeah, there’s a space here for me for whenever I pass through.” He grasped the knob and swung the door open.

Inside, the room was surprisingly spacious. A double bed sat against one wall, covered in a plain black comforter. A small dresser, a desk, and a closet took up the rest of the space. A single lamp provided a dim glow, revealing that it was actually neater than I expected. No clothes strewn about, no beer cans. Just a slight stuffy scent, like it hadn’t been used in a while.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the bed. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back.”

I sank onto the mattress, which creaked under me. “Where are you going?”

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Club business. Gotta talk to Sarge and the others about who might’ve followed us or who could be behind your mom’s murder. Maybe get them to help dig into Grinder or any other asshole who’d want you dead. These guys have been in the life forever. They’ll know something.”

A lump rose in my throat at the reminder of everything that’d happened. “Right. Of course.”

His expression softened. “I won’t be long. Promise. Try to relax. You’re safe here.” He rested a hand on my shoulder. “Lock the door behind me, okay?”

I nodded silently. As he turned to go, I caught his wrist. “Maverick?”

He looked back. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. For bringing me here. For keeping me alive.”

He gave a half-smile, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “Don’t thank me yet, princess. I plan on a bigger reward someday.” Then he slipped out, closing the door gently behind him.

I stared after him, heart fluttering. Then I stood, turning the lock as he’d asked. I tested it. It was solid. Good. Letting out a long breath, I surveyed the room again. It felt surreal that I was in a biker clubhouse in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by men who might do who knows what to me if I wasn’t under Maverick’s protection. But for some reason, I felt safer than I had in days.

Exhaustion weighed me down, so I kicked off my shoes and curled up on the bed. My body ached from all the traveling, my mind from the stress. Maybe just a quick nap… Just a little rest.

Time blurred. At some point, I drifted off, lulled by the faint thump of music through the walls and the distant laughter of bikers.

I dreamed of bullets shattering windows and the roar of an engine, of Maverick’s arms around me. Then a gentle touch on my shoulder drew me out of the dream.

I opened my eyes to see Maverick leaning over me, his features shadowed in the near dark. “Hey,” he murmured. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

I blinked, disoriented. “What time is it?”

“After midnight,” he said softly, brushing hair from my forehead. “I’m sorry. Didn’t realize you’d zonk out so hard.”

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “You’re done with club business?”

He nodded. “For now. Sarge and some others are following leads, but it’ll take time.” His gaze flicked over my face. “You hungry? I can get you something.”

I moved my head from side to side, then paused, remembering the words he’d used in front of the others. “Maverick, thank you for… for introducing me as your woman, I guess. For letting me stay. I know it’s not easy.”

His jaw tightened. “It’s the only way, Lexi. This club doesn’t do half measures. A woman here is either claimed or fought over. The winner gets the spoils, if you catch my drift. That’s the ugly truth.” He exhaled. “I told you, I won’t let them lay a finger on you. But that means playing by their rules.”

I shivered, meeting his eyes. “I understand. And what did they mean, you’ve done this before? There was a fight?” I was really curious about that.

“Princess, I told you there’s been countless women,” he said, like that explained everything.

“There’s been another woman you claimed was yours that wasn’t?”

Maverick lifted a shoulder. “Last time I was here, I had a date. No, I didn’t follow the rules. I only said it with no proof. Found out they were more serious about this shit than my last club. Yeah, I was challenged.”

“What happened to the woman you claimed?”

Maverick looked down, smiling shyly. “Well, you met her. Bonbon. She wasn’t really mine. I wouldn’t do what it took to keep her, anyway. She hangs at the club now.”

“Yikes,” I said. But I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “It’s just… I’ve read about all this in my MC romances, but experiencing it is something else.”

A flicker of interest lit his gaze. “Yeah... So, tell me. What do they say about claiming a woman, about being someone’s property?”

I swallowed, trying to recall all the tropes. “They say, usually, the biker claims her in front of the whole club, might give her a cut with a property patch, or a tattoo marking her as his. Some stories mention branding or forcibly tattooing. In others, it’s more consensual but still intense. Sometimes the women are thrilled, sometimes they’re reluctant.” I gave a half- laugh. “I’m sure it’s a lot more romantic on paper or scary, depending.”

Maverick met my eyes. “Well, it’s not all romance out here. But yeah, that’s basically how it goes. I could prove it in front of my brothers. Fuck you out in the club. Give them a show. Or you get a property patch, some ink, you become off-limits to other bikers. The club protects you as one of their own. So, if you fuck with her, you fuck with the entire MC.”

I bit my lip, anxiety creeping in. “So… is that what you’re suggesting I do?”

He shifted on the bed, leaning closer, the mattress dipping. “I can't watch over you around the clock, Lexi. I have to leave, gather intel, maybe chase down leads. If you’re gonna stay here, I need to ensure you’re safe.” He brushed his knuckles over my cheek, voice softening. “That means an official mark of belonging, so no one questions your status. Any question about you being fair game could get you hurt. Or worse.”

I tensed. “You mean, if I don’t do it, they might… they might?”

He exhaled, frustration evident. “I won’t let it happen. But I can’t be here every second.”

“You’re suggesting I should get a tattoo? Marking me as your property?”

“That’s how it works. Doesn’t have to be big or showy. Just enough that the club sees you as one of ours.”

This was happening too fast. I barely know him. We’d kissed a few times, sure, but a permanent ink brand. That was insane. “I’m freaking out,” I admitted, hearing my voice tremble.

“Hey, Princess,” He took my hand, lacing our fingers together. “They can remove tattoos now if you really want it gone later. Just… for now, it’s the best way.”

My eyes fluttered closed, tears threatening. “It’s too much. We’ve barely kissed, we’re not even… we’re not lovers. And now I’m supposed to brand my body with your name? Or the club’s name?”

He studied me, his brow creasing. “Lexi, I need this. I can’t concentrate on hunting down these bastards if I’m scared shitless that you’re one step away from being assaulted, or worse. Please.”

A heavy silence followed. I could almost hear my anxiety. He lifted my wrist, bringing it to his mouth, kissing the pulse point there, a soft, persuasive kiss.

“Please,” he repeated. And he licked my wrist.

I looked into his eyes, seeing genuine concern and something else. Regret, maybe, at having to ask this. My throat tightened. “Fine,” I croaked. “I’ll do it.”

His gaze flickered with relief. “Thank you.”

I tried to breathe through the panic. “But I want it small. Somewhere I can cover it up easily. I get to decide, all right?”

“Deal.” A smile curved his lips. “I’ll arrange it.”