Page 9 of Riding the Line (Steel Saints MC #1)

He slid it towards me, and after throwing the meat that had been marinating into the pan, I covered it and turned off the heat.

I moved to the kitchen island, noticing more bikers had made their way into the room.

Mac left his spot, grabbed a six-pack from the fridge, and joined them.

I made a mental note to add beer to the next grocery list. A lot of beer.

I laid out toppings for steak fajitas, and then went on a hunt for plates and bowls.

Finally, I holler, “Alright, Saints, come and get it.”

I waited for them to come rushing into the kitchen, but they all seemed to be waiting for something.

I frowned at Dalton, who was sitting at the table, and he nodded towards the other door, which promptly swung open.

Much to my surprise, more people came in—including women and even a couple of kids.

One of them, a pretty Hispanic lady with a baby on her hip, smiled at me, her brown eyes open and friendly.

I smiled back as another kid came running out from behind her, stopping in front of me.

“Hello!” he said, grinning up at me, a couple of teeth missing and with brown eyes just like his mother’s, bright with mischief.

“My name is Diego. I’m eight. That’s my mom.

She said to be nice to you. She said that ‘cos my dad and his friends can be dicks sometimes, you would need a friend. What does that mean?”

My jaw dropped, and I looked up at his mom, whose eyes had widened to the size of saucers.

“Diego Jesus Gonzelez, go with your sister and have her make you a plate, or I swear—”

He hurried off and joined a girl who looked to be about fifteen. His mom smiled at me again, this time apologetically.

“I am so sorry—kids sometimes repeat things I really wish they wouldn’t. I blame their father. My name is Maria. You may have met my husband, Diego Sr.”

I laughed. “Honestly, he just made my day, so it’s totally fine. I’m Nicky, it’s nice to meet you. And I have no idea if I’ve met your husband yet. Their faces all kind of blur together.”

Maria nodded and shifted the baby on her hip, who chewed on his hand and stared at me with bright eyes.

“Who is this handsome man? Is his name Diego, too?”

“His dad would’ve loved that but, at risk of inflating his head further, we actually named him Manuel. Everyone calls him Manny.” The boy, hearing his name, laughed and waved a slobber-covered fist at me.

Around us, the men start to get up to make their plates now that the women and kids have all gotten theirs. A tall, broad-shouldered duplicate of little Diego came up behind Maria, and kissed her cheek.

“Careful, mi amor , she may bite.”

She swatted him. “Don’t be a pendejo . I don’t blame the woman. Go, make us both something to eat. It smells delicious.”

The guy wandered off, and Maria stepped closer to me.

She squeezed my arm and whispered, “To be honest, I think you should’ve bit Dalton harder.

And I would’ve paid good money to see you set that man-child’s bike on fire.

I never did like him. I know this is all new and probably more than a little alarming, but most of the guys here are good guys.

Stick with us girls, and we’ll show you the ropes.

We aren’t around here too often, but I won’t ever pass up the opportunity to not cook.

” She smiled again before heading to the table where everyone sat in genuine camaraderie.

Diego pulled out her chair and took little Manny from her, tossing him in the air, much to the delight of the squealing infant.

As I watched, I sensed someone approaching and turned to see Dalton coming up with two plates of food and a couple of beers tucked under his arm.

“This smells amazing, Vixen. You didn’t tell us you could cook.”

I shrugged. “You never asked.”

He nodded. “I bet there’s a lot we don’t know about you. Come on, one of these is yours.” I blinked at him, and he said, “What? You gotta eat too.”

I looked over at the table, and Maria was patting the seat next to her. I stopped Dalton when he went to give me one of the beers. “I’m more of a whiskey girl.”

He smiled. “Of course you are,” he said, and then took the empty seat next to his brother, who had been watching me the entire time.

Well, this was more than a little unexpected.

I soon found any residual tension melting away in the warmth of laughter and conversation around the table.

Diego clearly doted on Maria, who fed Manny some of the refried beans I had made.

Little Diego seemed intent on wearing his fajitas, and the sister handed him wads of napkins at a time.

Several other women had bikers next to them, every single one of them with an arm around each other, or a hand on the knee.

I met the eyes of a blonde woman a few seats down from me, her hand messing with Jackson’s hair as he bantered with another guy I hadn’t met yet. She gave me an appraising look, her pale eyes neither friendly nor hateful, before returning her attention to her plate.

By the time everyone had had their fill, I was laughing with Maria at some dumb joke Diego had made. She turned to me and said, “Alright, Nicky, I’ve got to know. What kind of girl shows up to a biker bar in the middle of downtown Atlanta and says, ‘Fuck it, I’m setting a bike on fire’?”

I groaned and sipped at the lowball glass of whiskey that had appeared in front of me at some point. “I wasn’t planning on it, I swear. I just needed a drink after a long day on the road and—”

Diego held up a hand. “Hey, that leads to my question. Where did you learn to ride?”

I scrambled to remember Nicole’s backstory that had been drilled into me.

“My brother, actually. I used to beg him to take me riding with him when I was a kid. I guess he got tired of me hanging onto the back of his bike ‘cos when I turned sixteen, he gave me my first Triumph. I loved that bike. I might’ve ridden it a little too hard ‘cos one night, I took a corner too fast and—” I make a whoosh sound and mime an explosion with my hands. “When my brother pulled up, I was sitting on the back of the ambo. When he realized I wasn’t hurt too bad, he ripped my ass a new one.”

“Serves you right!” Dalton hollered from down the table, and I realized everyone had gone quiet to hear my story. “Where’s he now?”

I glanced down. “He died a couple of years ago.” Maria squeezed my knee, and I looked up at her. “It’s alright; I like to think he still rides with me.”

Dalton raised his beer. “I’ll drink to that.” The other bikers raised their drinks, too, and there was a moment of silence before I started clearing empty plates from the table.

As I cleaned, Maria came up to me and handed me a note.

“We’re going to head home, honey. Time to put these heathens to bed,” she said, looking over at Diego who was holding both boys sleeping soundly, one on each shoulder.

Her eyes softened, then she nodded to the piece of paper I’d slipped in my pocket.

“That’s my number on there. You text me if you need anything.

I would offer to stay and help, but Mac told everyone to let you do your job—the overbearing idiot. ”

I smiled at her. “It’s fine, really. Thank you. You’re the first friendly face I’ve met in this place.”

She turned to leave. “Eh, don’t let them fool you—they’re a bunch of softies. But I’m here if you need me. I think we could be friends.” She winked at me, slipping her hand into Diego’s back pocket as they left.

I kept cleaning until the kitchen was back to its original spotless state, and then rolled my neck, relishing the satisfying pop.

“You keep on surprising me, Vixen.”

I jumped and spun around to see Mac—I’d thought I was alone.

“How do you mean?”

He walked over to the trash can and pulled out the full bag, setting it by the door. He didn’t answer me, but came over and gently took my wrist. It was slightly bruised from where he had grabbed me earlier, and he frowned in response. For some reason, I felt the need to reassure him.

“It doesn’t really hurt. Besides, I did hit you first. And I bit your brother.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter; bruising women isn’t my style.” His thumb traced circles over the mark, and while I knew I should pull away, I didn’t.

We stood there for a minute until he cleared his throat and backed away. As he headed out the door with the trash bag in hand, I called to him, “You didn’t answer me.”

He stopped and looked at me over his shoulder.

There was a whole world in those dark eyes, a thousand thoughts and feelings flying by in a matter of seconds.

But he just turned and left without a word.

I stood there, at a loss for words, and then grabbed the whiskey off the shelf and took a shot straight from the bottle.

I realized then there was a lot more to Maverick Mills than what I’d read in his file.

His gentle touch scared me more than when he was pinning me to a wall and, with that thought, I took another shot.

After finishing up a few jars of overnight oats for an easy breakfast, I began to wonder how I would get home.

Perhaps Tony would take me back again? It was getting dark, and I was tired.

I labeled the jars carefully, and put them in the fridge.

Dalton had put his number in my phone earlier, after taking the one Mac had given me back.

I shot off a quick text and sat down next to the same cat from the other night.

He’d wandered in from the garage at some point, assuming his spot on the island counter, snoozing away.

I’d tried shooing him off, and he’d opened a single baleful eye to glare at me before going back to sleep.

I was in the middle of writing out a meal plan when the door swung up, and Dalton walked in.

“Hey Vixen, sorry about that. You can go home whenever you want. Tomorrow I’ll have someone show you around the place so you know what you’re cleaning.

But you’re done for today.” He rubbed the cat between the ears.

I pointed my pen at the orange tabby. “I don’t think it likes me.”

“Diesel likes a very select few. Don’t take it personal.”

I frowned, and Dalton came closer. “You did good for someone who had this whole thing thrown at you. I think you’ll fit right in.”

I tilted my head at him. “What if I don’t want to fit in?”

He brushed a lock of hair behind my ear, and I jerked away in surprise.

“Well, I don’t really have an answer for that. We’ve all gotta find our place.”

We stared at each other for a loaded moment, before he picked Diesel up and turned to leave. “Go home, Vixen.”

With that, he left me in the kitchen before I could ask him how, exactly, I was supposed to do that.

Sighing, I hung my list on the fridge and made my way through the garage to the parking lot.

I’d been hoping to find Tony or Jackson or literally anyone I recognized, but there were only a few people still around, none of whom I knew.

As I turned to go back in, my eyes landed on something very familiar, and my mouth fell open.

My bike was there by the bay door, my helmet sitting on the seat.

The slashed tire had been replaced, and it had clearly been washed.

I looked around, but no one made a sound or moved towards me.

Too tired to ask questions, I turned the ignition, and the bike roared to life.

As I pulled out of the driveway, I glanced at the hulking building behind me and thought of the two brothers inside, who’d surprised and intrigued me at every turn.

Shaking my head, I pushed all thoughts of them away and focused on the cool wind whipping around me as I headed back to my temporary home.

I shouldn’t have been this satisfied over groceries and fajita toppings. This wasn’t what I trained for. But something about the order, the control of it—it filled a space I didn’t know was empty. Still, I’d take chasing leads with Shelly any day.