Page 42 of Mile High With the Bikers (Screaming Eagles MC #10)

RORY

The Screaming Eagles found me during a sweltering summer, but I'm becoming an old lady during a record cold snap.

The biker life is all about extremes, right?

Over-the-top danger, mind blowing sex, unlimited freedom.

It's only fitting, even if I had to wear a big, fuzzy coat on the way over to the clubhouse.

There's snow on the ground, of all things!

Only a dusting, but it never snows here.

I swear, the weather just gets wilder and wilder every year.

“It's pretty, isn't it?” Cherry clutches my arm while we're watching out the window together. “I miss snow. I grew up in upstate New York, until I decided to try my luck out west. We'd get crazy snow some years.”

“Cold, wet and miserable,” Opal notes. “Though as long as you have enough blankets and a hot, naked biker nearby, it's not so bad.”

“You can say that again.” Mila grins. Usually, the old ladies and the sluts don't mix much, but since I've made some good friends in both camps, they are today.

Not that there's any enmity that I can see—they just move in different circles and have different things on their minds. Or different bikers anyway.

Kaylee worked wonders on my hair. It's too short for one of those big, fancy hairdos, but it's beautifully styled into a long bob with bangs, something I never thought I'd be able to pull off, but she's made work.

Shrapnel suggested that I wear my stewardess uniform, but I vetoed that.

I didn’t forget him though. My dress is in the same colors as the uniform, gray and red, with some yellow highlights.

It hugs my curves nicely, and I think they'll appreciate that, even if it doesn't look like I'm about to induct them in the mile high club…

again. And I am wearing a little flight pin as a broach, just to make him happy.

Everyone is gathering in the common room as Eagle-eye has called Church for the occasion. And unlike normal Church, everyone is allowed. Even guests.

Dad's here, but looking uncomfortable, a little out of place. He thinks I’m insane for wanting this life but he doesn't have anything against it, not as long as I’m not wasting my brain, as he says.

I think he secretly enjoys shocking people by telling them about his daughter and her three bikers.

Our relationship is better than it was now that I’m not working directly for him, though we’re still trying to figure out what exactly is going to work for us.

Mom isn’t here, but she met everyone during our trip and it went…

Well, it went. It’s fine. Last time we spoke she was considering flying out to visit because she was feeling inspired by all the tattoos and considering doing a series of paintings.

Bull’s mom and her old man are here, proud to see him settle down in biker terms. Diesel’s relationship with his mother is still strained, but I have a letter from her upstairs that I’ll give him when he’s ready. A little progress is still progress.

I peek through the door from the hallway that leads down to the locker room. None of the guys have seen me yet, being a little bit traditional, despite absolutely nothing about our lives being traditional. But it adds a little mystique, and I like to keep my boys on their toes.

I get a glimpse of them standing near the bar.

There isn’t a tuxedo in sight, but everything leather is polished to a shine and they bought new jeans for the occasion.

Wearing their cuts over tuxes would look weird anyway, and there's no way they're taking an old lady without those.

But hair is cut, beards are trimmed, and they all look incredibly handsome.

They always do, but today, even more so.

I have enough butterflies in my stomach to migrate to South America if they all decide to take off at once.

This isn’t a legally binding wedding. Nothing goes on the official books, there's no certificate, there are no tax benefits, but it means everything to us and to the people witnessing it today.

In some ways, it makes this stronger, because it's only about us.

About Bull, Shrapnel, Diesel… and me. About our devotion to each other, and there's nothing else to get in the way, no other reason to do this than to declare our intention to always be there for each other.

And I think that's perfect.

The door to Eagle-eye's office opens and slams, and then he comes down the stairs with heavy steps, Jupiter on his heels.

He sees my dad and sends a scowl his way.

He accepted that my Dad could be here, but he doesn't have to be thrilled.

I get it. He still sees him as a moderate threat, but so long as he doesn't decide to go punch Dad or something, we should be fine. And he wouldn't do that today.

I think.

When Eagle-eye is down with the boys, it's my cue to enter.

A sudden attack of nerves makes me hesitate.

It's stupid, since this isn’t going to change anything in our day-to-day lives.

We already live together in the mega-apartment the boys made by knocking down the walls between their old ones over the bar, and we screw enough that you'd think we were newlyweds every day of the week.

But at the same time, it changes everything.

Opal bumps me in the butt. “We'll do margaritas afterwards, okay? You can do this.”

Mila smiles as she gives my arm a tug. “Definitely. Those guys will set the world on fire for you. Nothing to be afraid of. For you at least.”

And so, with a wobbly smile, I start walking, followed by a little train of sluts and old ladies. You know, just like a regular wedding.

The huge common room looks small with so many people in it.

Just about every Screaming Eagle, all of the old ladies, the sluts, lots of kids of all ages and our guests.

The guys look up when I enter, and they are literally fucking me with their eyes the whole way there, one pair coal black, one deep ocean blue and one rich chocolate brown, and all of them lust-darkened.

Apparently the dress is a hit, even if it's not the actual uniform.

“You look fucking amazing, baby girl.” Diesel takes my hand as soon as I'm within range and pulls me in so I'm surrounded by the three of them. His happy grin is all mischief. “How about we skip this party and just head back to the apartment to fuck?”

I pretend gasp. “Did you forget why we're here?”

“Oh. Right. After, then.” He laughs and spins me around so my back is to him and his arms are around me.

Looking grumpy as always Eagle-eye steps up to begin. Miriam, his old lady, pats him on the shoulder in encouragement, then goes to stand with Emily—her daughter. I'm still figuring out all the relationships around here.

Bull and Shrapnel both take a step closer so we're all together, like the unit we're supposed to be. About to be. Already are.

Eagle-eye clears his throat. “I fucking knew it.” He sighs dramatically.

“I fucking knew it. The moment you bastards came into my office to report the plane crash and oh, by the way, there’s a pretty girl involved.

I tried to tell myself, no, Eagle-eye, she's just here temporarily.

She's going home soon and this isn't going to be yet another one of those things. But I fucking knew it would be. And here you are. I should know better by now.”

A smattering of laughter travels through the crowd watching us. If I've counted the old ladies right, I'm the tenth woman to get lured in by a bunch of bikers in this club, which is wild to me. And apparently to him.

Bull takes my hand and squeezes it. I smile up at him.

“But… as I'm the president, it's my job to do this, so let's just get it over with.” He glances over at King, one of Emily's guys and vice president, and who's standing straight with his hands clasped in front of him but looking like he's struggling to keep a straight face.

“Don't fucking laugh. One day it’s gonna be you up here.”

King looks a little queasy at the thought.

Shrapnel's hand has found my butt, resting lightly through my dress. I'm sure they're going to make a big number of taking it off me, and I'm sure I'm going to love it.

“Like most of the old ladies, you didn't choose to come find the Screaming Eagles.” His voice seems even a little more gravelly than usual.

He's not actually touched, is he? “Shit happens, and around here, it seems to happen a lot.

Ten years, ten ladies. It's starting to feel like a fucking pattern.

So again, being surprised, that's on me.

I should've expected someone would show up soon.

Anyway, I'm not one for long speeches, even if most of you assholes think I'm too fond of my own voice, so I'm gonna keep this short and to the point.”

Jupiter trots over, tail wagging and looking for attention. I give him a scratch behind the ear and he flops to the floor.

“Alright, Rory, you've picked out three of my men, through no fault of your own.

Of all the ones you could've picked, they're not the worst. Honorable, strong, dedicated.

And most importantly, they seem to be fucking head over heels for you, and I have learned by now that there's fuck-all I can do about that.

But life in an MC is hard. It's dangerous, as you already know.

It's unreliable, and you never know if your man is gonna come home that night, or never again.

Their brotherhood will always come first, and an old lady needs to understand that.

The club is what holds us all together, and if a link is weak, the whole fucking chain comes apart.

And an old lady is another link in that chain, expected to do her part when the club calls for her man to do his duty.

We don't do this lightly, but we do it if we have to.”

That intense eye fixes on me, judging me right here, right now, making sure that I understand the implications of what I'm about to do.

What exactly I'm taking on. Am I nervous?

Of course, but even if I haven't gone through all of these things point by point, I understand them.

I understand the guys. And they're worth it.

“In return, your men will be loyal. Steadfast. Present.

They will pick you up when you fall and carry you until you're able to walk again.

They will keep you as safe as is possible in the fucked world that we live in.

And I hope you understand how big that is, because many can't or won't do that.

Not like my boys do. And if they ever give you shit, you come to me and I'll fucking straighten them out. Is this really what you want?”

A biker 'I do' isn't like most. But it's just as binding and meaningful. And I've thought this through. “It's what I want.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? All three of them? You're sure?”

I can't even tell if he's serious for a moment, the question comes so earnestly, like he’s honestly baffled, but then laughter spreads around the crowd. From feeling very solemn, the weight of the moment lifts and I smile. “Yes, all three of them.”

“Alright. Your funeral. Boys!” He snaps the last word so hard and loud that Shrapnel actually stands at attention before he relaxes.

“Rory says she wants all of you. I say she's crazy, but that seems to be the way of everyone around here, sooner or later.

I just promised a lot of big things on your behalf, so I hope you were paying attention.

I expect all three of you fuckers to keep her safe, to keep her happy, and to keep her satisfied.

And if she ever comes complaining to me, I'm gonna toss the three of you in the Pit and have the boys work you over. Are you all willing to take on that responsibility?”

“Yes.” Bull responds with enough gravity to pull the Moon out of its orbit.

“Always,” Diesel says, squeezing me closer to him.

“Fuck yeah.” Shrapnel squeezes my butt again, but he also kisses the top of my head. “No getting rid of us now.”

Eagle-eye turns away from us and faces the rest of the club.

“Then let it be known that Rory's the old lady of Bull, Diesel and Shrapnel. She belongs to them, and anyone who tries to fuck around with her, is gonna have to answer to them, to me, and the whole rest of the fucking club. Is that fucking clear?”

A cheer goes up that echoes off the high ceilings of the common room.

“Good. Chef, get me a beer.” He looks over his shoulder at us. “You still here? Go fuck or whatever the fuck it is you kids do afterwards.”

Well, he doesn’t have to ask us twice.

Thank you so much for reading Mile High With the Bikers!