Page 92 of The Vows We Keep

“No,” Wrinkle says. “I’m against. Dead fucking against. And if you check in with Track, I bet he’s against too.”

“Incarcerated brothers don’t get a vote in this.” King looks at Wrinkle. “I think the difference between my way of mind and yours is the continuum. We got to future proof the club. We need to evolve. I think this gives us room.”

“Can we do a non-binding interim vote to see which way people are leaning before I have fucking heart attack?” I say, standing up again. I need to move, to call Cat, to go into the kitchen and bake shit, or to rip the old wallpaper off the hallway at home or something.

“First, anyone got more questions they need to ask?”

King’s question is met with the shaking of heads. I’ve never been more terrified of an outcome in my life.

“Let’s make it the actual vote,” King says. “Yays?”

Hands start to rise. Bates is first, Halo and Clutch second. Slowly but surely, the majority of the club raises their hands and every one causes my heart to thud loudly in my chest. I raise my own and see King raise his. He has the audacity to wink at me as he does it.

“Nays?” he asks, lowering his hands.

A few hands rise. Mostly old-timers.

“Motion passed. Time to update our bylaws.”

I put my head in my hands, and the world gets a little bit spacey.

A hand touches my shoulder. “I think you better call your woman,” King says.

29

CATALINA

Iwalk into the Iron Outlaws clubhouse with much apprehension. I even took the time to thoroughly arm myself before I rode over. Niro sounded ... odd ... when he called me. There was no playful banter. Nothing like the usual Niro. Just the request to appear at the clubhouse as quickly as my bike would carry me.

I steel myself, lowering my shoulders and rolling my neck from left to right, before I step into the bar area. All the men are in church, but Niro is standing against the doorframe, his arms crossed. He tips his chin to the baskets on the table outside. I drop my phone in one, and my obvious weapons in the other.

“The other knife and that nine-millimeter SIG you holstered under your hoodie,” he says.

I look at all the people in the room. “Niro,” I whisper. “What is this?”

He points to the containers of weapons. “No one in the room is armed. And it’s hopefully good news.”

My heart rests a little at his words. I didn’t think he would set me up. No, I know he wouldn’t. “Okay, I trust you.”

Niro smiles at this and meets me by cupping my cheeks and kissing me in front of his men.

“This is bullshit,” I hear Wrinkle say.

“Then you’re free to leave,” King replies. “Come in, Cat.”

I do as he says, and Niro stands by my side.

“Why do you love Niro?” King asks.

“I’m not sure that’s any of your business,” I reply. I look up at the man next to me. The one who has, through his steadfast actions, given me a soft place to land where I can allow myself the feeling of being protected yet allowed to be who I am.

And I wonder if I’ve actually used the words yet. I feel it. He feels it in his own way. But it’s like the words are too precious, too permanent for us to whisper them yet.

Even though we treasure each other equally.

King grins. It’s strange to see the president smile at me. “I’m gonna need an answer, sweetheart.”

I roll my eyes. “If you’re not fucking me, feeding me, or funding me, please don’t call mesweetheart. Why do you need an answer?”