Page 16 of Silver Fox Daddies

We’re dealing with one of the most powerful motorcycle clubs in the states.

Reaper Sons earned their reputation back in the eighties. They were powerful, so much more than we were. At one point, the club reached something like six hundred members.

It was around a decade ago when things came crashing down for them, and it set them back so much that they went quiet. Their badges were no longer spotted, and they stopped causing mayhem out on the open roads, riding seven abreast against oncoming traffic.

I heard a while back that they went quiet because of a mass killing. Nobody knows the cause. Maybe another secret club had an agenda of their own and set out to kill them. Maybe a pack of coyotes attacked in the night. Nobody knows.

All we know is that they’re back.

And they want to claim the desert as their own.

Twenty new prospects is something, but it’s not a lot. Most of them look like they don’t know what they’re doing, like the guy two tables over from us who hasn’t spoken a word to his fellow prospects. A few of them have started integrating, but most of the prospects keep to themselves. I don’t know why Grizzly let in this particular guy—maybe he’s good with a gun or something.

He has large biceps, so he must know how to put up a good fight.

I stare at him, accidentally catching his attention. But he simply looks away.

Cash seems like he has a trick or two up his sleeve, since he works as an IT consultant in the city. I was allocated the job of showing him to his room when he first showed up, and he gave me a verbal tutorial of how to hack into police databases. I don’t remember any of it, but he sounds resourceful.

Now, I’d class him as a friend. Library girl seems to have bonded him to Bishop and me.

“We can’t just forget about the librarian,” says Bishop. “We can’t put our lives on hold just because Reaper Sons are declaring war.”

Bishop might be captain of ride-outs, but he doesn’t know the first thing about war. I’ve spent twelve years of my life in it, and although this attack might not be as serious as being flown out to Russia, there’s still the chance of death.

And I’ve seen more than my fair share.

Bishop is like a brother, but he’s careless. I don’t think he quite understands the seriousness of death. The finality of it.

I see him during raids. He’s like a boy with a nerf gun, thinking this is all a game.

Grizzly has a point. With club members on the line, we can’t afford to distract ourselves with women.

The screen suddenly lights up on Bishop’s phone, taking all our attention.

Sexy Librarian: OMG! I am so embarrassed and sorry!!!

3

BISHOP

Igo to pick up the phone, but Diesel’s hand clamps over mine.

He turns to me with a stern face. “No.”

I know Cash wants to reply too. I see it in his eyes, how they spark.

“She’s embarrassed,” I say. “Let’s at least reassure her that she has nothing to worry about. Let’s be gentlemen about this, not assholes.”

Diesel eases off the phone, jaw hard. “Fine,” he huffs. “But just reassurance.”

I glare at him and then scoop up the phone to text her back.

Fuck, the things I could do to this woman.

Is it bad that I was imagining her bent over the library desk last night, pencil skirt at her feet, me between her legs, plunging my cock deep inside?

Me: You have nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart.