For the hundredth fucking time, I felt eyes on me, stalking my every move. The extra scrutiny sent the hair on the backs of my arms tingling. If I had been anywhere else but inside the safety of the clubhouse and among my brothers, the freaky feeling would have had me reaching inside my cut to palm my gun. But in this case, I knew I wasn’t in any real danger.

Casually, I glanced over my shoulder to take in the crowd. The clubhouse was at full capacity for a Saturday night. The house band was cranking out tunes, and couples were in the middle of the floor bumping and grinding. With Rev gone on his honeymoon and Deacon off on a Brownies’ camping trip with his daughter, Willow, I was the only Malloy in residence. Though our president and vice president were gone, it didn’t stop the remaining Raiders from having one of our weekend parties.

Even without looking, I could have guessed who was eyeballing me. A month ago, a new mechanic had started at the garage where I was apprenticing. His name was Marley, and he was former army. That alone made me respect the hell out of him, but then that respect grew one day when we were eating lunch and shooting the shit. I discovered he was a motorcycle enthusiast whose knowledge of bikes could put some of the Raiders to shame. Then a week ago he gained my complete and total respect by saving my ass.

I was doing an oil change on a Dodge Challenger when a man came stalking up. He looked vaguely familiar, as though I might’ve seen him at the garage before. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, you’re the fucker who screwed up my car.”

“Excuse me?”

“The transmission is shot to hell now. I realize you’re new and everything, but I don’t know how the fuck you managed to screw it up so bad.”

“Sir, your car was fine when you left. I don’t know how you could possibly think I did something wrong.”

The man’s face darkened. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think. Get me your boss. Now.”

I bit my tongue to tell the man he could go fuck himself, which would have been the way I once handled the situation. But since I was trying to turn over a new leaf, I grumbled, “One second.” I brushed past Marley, who had come out from underneath the car he had been working on. Knocking on my boss’s door, I called, “Rick?”

He glanced up from a pile of invoices. “Yeah?”

“There’s a dude who wants to see you.” When Rick raised his eyebrows questioningly, I sighed. “He thinks I fucked up his car.”

“Did you?”

“Hell no. It was just a standard oil change and tire rotation. When I told him his check-engine light was on, he told me it was because of the oil.”

After grunting in frustration, Rick rose out of his chair. I stepped aside for him to come out the door and then I followed him down the hall. Once the man saw him, he started ranting and raving about how during the oil change I had screwed up his transmission.

He was halfway through his tirade when Marley stepped forward. “You’re full of shit.”

The man’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?” he demanded.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Marley said, “There’s no way in hell Bishop could have done the damage you’re talking about.”

“Is that so?”

Marley nodded and then looked at Rick. “The guy came in here with a car wheezing like a two-pack-a-day smoker. Anything wrong with his transmission was already there, with the car wheezing like that.”

Rick glanced from Marley to me. “Did you notice the noise, too?”

I grimaced. “No, I didn’t.”

“In Bishop’s defense, he was in the back when the guy pulled up. He wouldn’t have been able to diagnose that,” Marley said.

It was my turn for my jaw to drop at Marley stretching the truth for me. Yeah, I had been doing inventory, but I still should have heard the noise when the guy drove away. I didn’t know where in the hell my head had been that day to miss something like that. When I met Marley’s gaze, he cocked his head at me as if daring me to go against his story. I bobbed my head in agreement.

The man sputtered with indignation. “That doesn’t mean shit. He still fucked up my car!”

Rick narrowed his eyes. “You must think I’m an idiot if you really think you can screw up a transmission that bad through a simple oil change. Get the hell out of here, and don’t ever come around here trying to scam me again.”

After the man left and Rick went back to his office, Marley and I were alone. When he started to go back to work, I stopped him. “Why did you lie for me?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it lying—it was more like stretching the truth.”

“Then why did you stretch the truth for me?”

Marley smiled. “We’ve all been the new guy once. Yeah, you probably should have noticed the wheezing when he pulled out of here, but maybe you were just having an off day. Maybe your mind was somewhere else. Hell, maybe you had to take a leak or a dump really bad and couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Hey, now.” I laughed.

With a chuckle, Marley added, “That one little fact doesn’t mean you aren’t a damn good mechanic who knows his cars.”

“I never would have fucked up with a motorcycle,” I grumbled.

“That’s probably true, considering what a hard-on you have for bikes, but I guarantee you’ll never miss a transmission issue ever again.”

“Fuck no.” I held out my hand to him. “Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

He pumped my hand up and down. “You’re welcome.” After dropping my hand, he started back to the car he had been working on. Staring at his back, I thought about what kind of man he was and couldn’t help thinking he would make a great member of the Raiders one day. After everything that had gone down with Mendoza, we were actively looking to bring in a few new guys to steady things until the heat wore off. We were still slowly and surely moving toward being legitimate, and Marley’s character would certainly fit in with our new direction.

All it had taken was a call to my brother during my next break. Rev had answered on the third ring. “What’s up, B?” he’d asked.

“I wanted to run something by you.”

“Shoot.”

“I think I got a lead on a good hang-around.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Then I’d given Rev the lowdown on Marley. “Think it’d be okay to invite him to a party so we can feel him out?”

“Sure. Why not? We’ll put Archer on his ass pronto. You know how he thinks he can sniff out rats.”

I laughed. “Okay. Sounds good.”

After I’d hung up with Rev, I put my phone back in my pocket and went inside. Marley was underneath a car that was up on the hydraulics.

“Hey, you ever think about joining a motorcycle club?” I asked.

Marley had glanced at me over his shoulder. “Maybe. Why?”

“I just happen to be part of one. Actually, I’m a little more than a part of one. I’m an officer in the Hells Raiders.”

“I think I might’ve heard of them.”

“You probably didn’t hear anything too good about them.”

Turning around, Marley had said, “Heard a bit.”

My eyebrows rose at his summation. “Yeah, well, maybe everything you heard wasn’t true.”

“I’m listening.”

I’d walked over to him so I could lower my voice. “It’s a long process to join. You have to start at the very bottom as a hang-around. Then if everyone agrees, we could let you prospect. That’s the hardest part of joining because you basically get treated like everyone’s bitch.”

Marley had smiled and shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve heard some shit about the prospecting period. To be honest, I’ve never really given the whole club scene a lot of thought. I just love to ride.”

“That’s what the club is really all about.”

Marley had appeared thoughtful for a couple of minutes. “Maybe I could give it a try.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.” I’d made sure we were completely alone before saying anything further. “Look, we’re having a party this Saturday night. Why don’t you come and see what you think?”

Marley had seemed to weigh my words for a few moments before he nodded. “Okay. That sounds good.”

From his table across the room in the clubhouse, Marley worked on draining another beer. I’d found him the table earlier and insisted on buying him a beer. I owed him at least that much for saving my ass. I’d introduced him to several of the guys, and he seemed to be enjoying himself. I’d meant to sit down with him, but my newest piece of ass had come up and insisted we dance. My dick couldn’t seem to tell her no.

But the stares I was getting weren’t coming from Marley. In fact, he hadn’t glanced in my direction all night. No, it was the fine-as-hell woman beside him who had been doing her best at eye-fucking me.

Tonight was the first night I had had the pleasure and the pain of meeting Marley’s girlfriend. He’d mentioned her in passing during our lunchtime conversations. I hadn’t paid too close attention, so I couldn’t remember if her name was Sandy or Samantha. Since she was his age, she had at least five years on me, and that fact made me want to volunteer to be her cougar cub.

If there was one word to describe her looks, it was exotic. Sure, she was probably more an ethnic mutt than anything, but it made for one hell of an attractive combination. She looked more Hispanic than anything else, but her almond-shaped eyes gave her an Asian appearance. I hadn’t failed to notice that she had turned the heads of more than one of my brothers tonight. I just hoped the leering looks hadn’t pissed off Marley.

When she realized I was looking at her, a catlike smile curved her ruby-red lips. She tossed some strands of her silky jet-black hair over her shoulder. Sitting beside her, Marley didn’t act as if he noticed anything that she was doing.

Even though he wasn’t a patch-wearing brother, I still shouldn’t have been giving her the eye. You didn’t fuck around with women who belonged to your brothers. It usually led to trouble of the fist-flying kind. And even though there were more than enough hot pieces of available ass here, I couldn’t help letting my mind wander to places it shouldn’t with that woman.

My ears perked up at the sound of a baby’s cry. I knew the cry very well, since it belonged to my nephew, Wyatt. As I headed across the main room of the roadhouse, I could see Alexandra in the doorway to the kitchen, walking around, trying to pacify the fussy baby.

“What’s wrong with the little man?” I asked.

Alexandra huffed out a frustrated breath. “I have no idea. He’s just been fed and had his diaper changed, but he insists on being whiny.” She kissed the top of her son’s dark-haired head. “Truth be told, I think he’s sick of me. With Deacon gone camping with Willow, he’s had no one else to amuse him the past three days.”

“Here, let me take him.”

Alexandra’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really?” When I nodded, she passed him into my waiting arms. He immediately dried up the sniffling and gazed into my face. “Who knew you were so good with babies?” Alexandra mused.

With a wink, I added, “Nah, it’s more about the fact that he’s had too much tit time. He needs to be with some men for a while.”

“You’re terrible,” she replied, smacking my arm playfully.

“You love me, though,” I teased.

Alexandra leaned over and bestowed a kiss on my cheek. “Yes, I do. Very much.” Patting Wyatt’s back, she then said, “Bring him to me when you get tired of him or he gets tired of you.”

“Sure thing.”

As I walked Wyatt around the main room, several of my brothers stopped to talk to us while their old ladies or girlfriends cooed at Wyatt. Although he was all Alexandra when it came to looks, Wyatt was like his old man and knew how to work a crowd. He grinned and waved his hands, drawing smiles from everyone we talked to.

“What a little cutie,” a voice said behind me.

I turned around to find my eye-fucker standing behind me. Damn, she was even more smokin’ hot up close. “Thanks.”

“Is he yours?” she asked.

“Oh hell no. He’s my brother’s.”

She smiled as she reached out to stroke Wyatt’s chubby cheek. “I take it you don’t have any of your own.”

“That would once again be a hell no.”

“You’re awfully good with him.”

“I like kids just as long as they belong to someone else,” I answered honestly. When Wyatt reached for her, she looked at me to gauge my response. “Sure. You can hold him.”

Wyatt happily dove into her waiting arms. “Aren’t you a charmer?” she murmured, to which Wyatt gurgled happily.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” I said as she sweet-talked Wyatt.

“I’m Samantha.”

Extending my hand, I said, “I’m Bishop.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said as she balanced Wyatt in one arm and shook my hand with the other.

From her introduction, I knew she was as new to the MC lifestyle as Marley was. Most of the women we associated with knew that when introducing themselves, they were to say which man they belonged to and, depending on the type of party, which chapter her man belonged to. “You’re Marley’s girlfriend.”

She nodded. “I am.”

“I’ve heard lots about you.”

Her dark eyebrows rose in suspicion. “You have?”

With a wink, I replied, “It was all good. I promise.”

Samantha smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“I take it this is your first MC party?”

“Yeah. It is.”

“And what do you think about it?”

After glancing around the room, she answered, “It’s interesting.”

I laughed. “This one is pretty tame. Wait until you go to a rally.”

“How’s a rally different?”

“Well, it’s more of a drunken free-for-all with lots of half-naked people hooking up in the broad daylight.” When she widened her eyes, I added, “It has to be seen to be believed.”

After wrinkling her nose, she said, “Somehow I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”

“You’ll get used to it. Especially if Marley becomes a prospect.”

She nodded. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I do love a good party. I’m just not sure I want to see a bunch of naked strangers getting it on.” With a grin, she added, “I can see better porn from the comfort of my own home.”

I laughed. “I like your way of thinking.”

It was at that moment Marley appeared. “Hey, B, I see you finally got to meet my girl.”

“You’re a lucky man,” I replied.

Marley shot me a broad grin before leaning over to plant a smacking kiss on Samantha’s lips, which caused her to jerk back slightly. Her reaction seemed a little weird, but then she gave him a beaming smile. “I guess I better hand over this cutie,” she said. After I took Wyatt back from her, she said, “Thanks for letting me hold him.”

“Anytime.”

She then slid her arm around Marley’s waist as they started away from me. Just as they got halfway across the room, she glanced over her shoulder at me, giving me that catlike smile again. I jerked my chin up at her in acknowledgment.

When she turned her head, I groaned, which caused Wyatt to glance up at me in surprise. I smiled at him. “Little Man, your uncle is in deep shit.”

I spent the rest of the evening trying not to think, least of all fantasize, about Samantha. It was a losing battle. Even as I tried occupying my mind by making the rounds and talking to other club members, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Most of the thoughts involved having her on her back while pounding her senseless.

After about an hour of trying to avoid her and my out-of-control sexual thoughts, I somehow managed to end up at the pool table where she and Marley were playing. Just as I thought about running away, Marley handed me his stick. “Why don’t you try a round? I’m getting my ass kicked and my wallet fleeced at the moment.”

With a chuckle, I motioned to one of our newest patch members, Crazy Ace. “He’s a real hustler.”

Marley groaned. “Don’t I know it?”

Motioning to the pool table, I said, “Rack ’em up. Let’s see if you can do any better against me.”

Samantha shook her head. “He’s just going to end up embarrassing himself by having to bum money off me.”

“Hey, now,” Marley countered with a smile.

“Truth hurts, babe,” Samantha said before leaning up to kiss Marley. I fought the urge to toss my stick on the table and walk away. Instead, I took the chalk and rubbed some on my cue.

A tap on my shoulder had me whirling around. It was Joe Casterini, or Jolting Joe, our newest prospect. He was also the bartender when we had parties. “Hey, B, we’re just about out of beer on tap.”

I nodded. “Take one of the other prospects and run down to the warehouse. There should be some kegs there.”

“Sounds like a plan, except I’m the only prospect here tonight,” Joe replied.

“Shit. That’s right.”

Holding up his hand, Joe said, “I can totally handle it alone.”

Even if he couldn’t make it up the hill with the steel keg, he knew as a prospect he shouldn’t try to pussy out of a situation. I glanced over at Marley. “Hey, man, want to help out?”

He grinned as he set his beer down on the pool table’s edge. “You bet your ass I’m down for anything that involves more beer.”

With a laugh, I said, “Glad you’re so eager to help.”

“Seriously, though. I’ve been thinking about what you said about joining up with the club. Figure that helping out and pitching in is all part of it, right?” Marley asked.

“Yeah. It sure as hell is.”

“Then I’m always down for that.”

I smacked him on the back. “Can see that one.”

Joe waved his hand. “Come on, man. Let’s get this shit taken care of before the natives get restless.”

“Okay,” Marley said. He then followed Joe out of the roadhouse. When I turned back to the others, I noticed it wasn’t just Crazy Ace and Samantha anymore. One of the newest sweet butts appeared to be glued to Crazy Ace’s side. As she whispered in his ear, his eyes got glassy, and I knew that pool was the last thing on his mind. “See ya later, B,” he said as he let the girl lead him away to one of the back rooms.

That left me all alone with Samantha. We stood in awkward silence for a few seconds before I held out a stick to her. “You play?”

She shrugged. “A little.”

“Then let’s have a go.”

Samantha took the stick. “Just promise you’ll go easy on me.”

“I’ll try,” I said.

“Good.”

As I racked up the balls, I said, “Marley hasn’t told me too much about you.”

“Glad to know he’s keeping my secrets.”

I cocked my head at her. “You got secrets?”

She shrugged. “Maybe . . . maybe not.” After tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder, she pinned me with a stare. “Don’t we all have secrets?”

“I guess so.”

“It’s been my observation that everyone has his or her own set of personal secrets. Hell, we even have some professional ones along the way.”

“That’s an interesting thought.” Placing my palms on the edge of the table, I smiled at her. “Wanna trade some secrets?”

“What did you have in mind?”

I jerked my chin at the table. “For every ball the winner sinks, the loser has to give up something about himself.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“I thought as much.”

Samantha leaned in on her cue, swaying her hips as she looked at me. “How can I be sure the odds aren’t stacked against me? You know, since I’m new to the game and all.”

“I said I would go easy on you.”

She gave me a skeptical look. “Hmm, we’ll see.”

“How about this? To demonstrate my good intentions, I’ll let you go first.”

“Aren’t you being sweet?” she teased.

“I try.”

She took me off guard when she asked, “Stripes or solids?”

“Huh?”

With a grin, Samantha replied, “I was asking which balls you wanted—stripes or solids?”

“If I were really being sweet, it should be lady’s choice, shouldn’t it?”

“My, my, you sure are a gentleman,” she mused as she brushed past me. It didn’t go unnoticed how her breasts felt as they made brief contact with my chest. I was still thinking about her fabulous tits when she said, “I’ll take solids, then.”

I cleared my throat while I also tried clearing my mind. “Sounds good.”

When I had suggested playing with her, I hadn’t stopped long enough to think about what she was going to look like bent over the pool table. If I’d had any idea what a vision of pure sex she would look like, I would have tucked my tail between my legs and headed for the hills. Samantha’s tight-as-hell pants gave me a great view of her perfectly rounded ass cheeks—the kind that when you were fucking doggy-style, you wanted to smack until you left a red handprint. When I leaned forward, I saw how her almost-double-D tits were spilling out the front of her shirt. There was no doubt I was going to end the night with balls as blue as some of the ones on the table.

When Samantha called, “Blue ten. Corner left pocket,” I couldn’t help noticing the irony. After she knocked the ball effortlessly across the table and into the pocket, my mouth dropped open in utter shock.

“Why am I thinking that wasn’t beginner’s luck and you’ve been hustling me?” I asked.

She batted her eyes innocently at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think I’ll start calling you Fast Eddie.”

“Ah, after Edward Felson?”

My jaw dropped in surprise. “You know Fast Eddie, the pool hustler?”

Samantha laughed. “Actually, it’s more like I know my Paul Newman, and since he played Fast Eddie in The Hustler and The Color of Money, I know the character.”

“I see.” Closing the gap between us, I asked, “How did you learn to play pool?”

“Uh, uh, uh. I believe by the rules of your game, I’m the one who gets to ask the question.”

I grunted in frustration. “Fine. Ask away.”

Samantha drummed her bloodred nails on the edge of the pool table. “Hmm, this is harder than I thought it would be. I feel a little pressure to not ask some bullshit question.”

“You can always forfeit and let me go.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting off that easy.”

“Damn. At least I tried.”

After momentarily closing her eyes, she opened them. “Okay. I have one.”

“I can’t wait to see what you came up with.”

“What’s something you’re good at that I wouldn’t be able to guess?”

With a smirk, I replied, “I don’t think you really want me to answer that.”

While I expected her to roll her eyes in exasperation when she got my meaning, she surprised me by pursing her lips. “I would think you being good at fucking would be a given. Right?”

I laughed. “Damn straight.”

“So, what’s something else—something that sets you apart from your MC brothers?”

After thinking for a moment, I answered, “Boxing.”

“Interesting.”

“I like to think so.”

“Do you do it as an amateur or professionally?”

“Professionally. Or I used to.”

“Why aren’t you doing it anymore?”

“Whoa, I thought this was a one-ball, one-question kinda thing?”

Samantha hopped up on the table edge as if she was settling in to hear a long story. Swinging her legs back and forth, she said, “I’ve never known any real-life boxers before, so you can’t fault me for being intrigued.”

I tapped the bottom of my cue stick on the floor. I had never talked to anyone outside the club or the gym about boxing. None of the women I had dated, or I guess I should say fucked, gave two shits about it. Mama Beth wanted nothing to do with it, considering that it was a blood sport that got her baby boy injured. But for reasons I couldn’t possibly imagine, Samantha seemed seriously interested.

“The main reason I’m not doing it so much anymore is I’m ready to do something else. It doesn’t hold the same excitement for me that it once did. I guess you could say I want to do more with my life than beat the shit out of dudes.”

“I think wanting to do something else besides fighting is totally understandable—if not commendable. I’m just not sure how you’ll be able to do that with the lifestyle you’re in.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Isn’t throwing punches all part of being in an MC?”

“Ah, I see you’re subscribing to the shitty image most people have of bikers.”

“I’m sorry if it sounded like I was stereotyping you. I guess I’m just ignorant when it comes to what real MC men are like.”

Leaning in closer to her, I said, “Since Marley is considering joining an MC, it’s probably a good idea if you take the time to really know what you’re talking about. We’re not all gun-wielding hell-raisers who terrorize towns.”

“You’re not?”

From her tone and expression, I didn’t know whether she was serious or teasing me. “Last time I checked, we get along pretty well with most of the people here in town—you know, the law-abiding ones.”

“Bishop—”

“As for a weapon, I would ask you to pat me down to check for one, but I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

“No. It wouldn’t.”

“At least I offered.”

With a genuinely apologetic look, Samantha said, “I’m sorry if I insulted you and your club.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s not like I’m not used to it by now. Even before I patched in to the club myself, I saw the way some people treated my dad. Then as soon as they heard I was John Malloy’s son, they treated me differently, too. That kinda shit happened from the time I was in school.”

“That was a really shitty thing to do to a kid just because of who his dad was.”

Staring down at the floor, I replied, “Yeah, when I was young, I got my feelings hurt easily. By the time I got to be a teenager, I probably gave them a reason to judge me by having a chip on my shoulder.” When I dared to look at Samantha, she was looking at me with respect.

“How did you get over it?”

“I finally decided that I didn’t give a shit what people thought about us, because deep down, I knew who we really were.” After Samantha and I stared at each other for a few seconds, I shook my head at her. “Damn, five minutes alone with you and I’m singing like a canary with all my secrets.”

Samantha chuckled. “I’d hardly say you’re giving away anything too revealing—like the club’s secret handshake.”

“True. It’s more like I don’t usually talk like this to women.”

“Let me guess. You don’t do a lot of talking period when you’re with a woman.”

“Pretty much.”

“I can’t say I’m too surprised by that.” She hopped down off the table. “So since you said you were always beating the shit out of guys, I guess it’s safe to say that you were pretty good at boxing, huh?”

“I won a lot of division titles back in the day.”

“Were you as good as José Legrá?”

I widened my eyes in surprise. “How the hell do you know who José Legrá is?”

“Don’t all women know their Cuban boxers?”

“Fuck no.”

“Truth is that I wouldn’t know my boxers if it hadn’t been for my father. He always watched the Friday-night fights. Even if he was working, he would tape them. He was a huge fan of Legrá as well as Luis Manuel Rodríguez, Kid Gavilán, Sugar Ramos—”

“The fourth greatest boxer named Sugar after Robinson, Leonard, and Mosley.”

Samantha smiled. “I’m not sure my father would have agreed with you on that one.”

“Give me a chance, and I would set him straight.”

Samantha’s expression darkened. “He passed away.”

Fuck. I had a special gift for being an insensitive asshole. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“Well, I sorta know what it feels like to lose your old man.” When she stared expectantly at me, I said, “My dad was killed six years ago.”

She surprised the hell out of me by forgoing the usual bullshit “I’m sorry for your loss.” Instead, she looked me straight in the eye and said something so few had ever said to me. “You must miss him.”

I nodded as the familiar ache of grief clenched in my chest. No matter how old you are or how big a man you think you are, there’s nothing like losing your father. “I miss him each and every day. The years go by, but it doesn’t really get easier, even though people love to spout that ‘time heals all wounds’ bullshit.”

“I know what you mean,” Samantha murmured.

Wanting to change the subject, I said, “Unless you have any more boxing questions, looks like it’s my turn.”

“Nope. I think I’m good. Of course, if you’re ever in the ring again, I’d love to come see you in action.”

“Seriously?”

Cocking her head at me, she countered, “What? Don’t I look like the kind of woman who would enjoy a good fight?”

I grinned. “Not exactly.”

Samantha wagged a finger at me. “Now you’re the one using stereotypes.”

With a snort, I replied, “Whatever. Most of the chicks have to be dragged by their old man to watch a fight.”

“Trust me. If you were going to be there, no one would have to drag me.”

The conviction in her tone had me licking my lips in anticipation. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then she cut me off at the knees when she said, “I’m sure Marley would love to see you, too.”

Somehow among all the talk of boxing and flirting, I had forgotten all about him. On the one hand, I felt like a complete and total bastard for wanting him out of the picture so I could have Samantha all to myself, and on the other, I resented him for being Samantha’s boyfriend. I wanted to believe he wasn’t good for her—that he probably cheated on her or mistreated her. But knowing Marley as I did, I couldn’t imagine him doing anything like that. He might be a tough talker, but he was a grown-up Boy Scout at heart.

To get my mind off Marley and lusting after his girlfriend, I leaned over the table and positioned my cue. Needing to prove myself, I said, “Orange five. Left corner pocket.”

“Going for a challenge right out of the gate?” she asked innocently.

“Damn straight.”

After sinking the ball with ease, I righted myself and met Samantha’s expectant gaze. I knew I needed to find a question that didn’t sound remotely like I was coming on to her. “So, what’s your family background like?”

Her eyes widened as if my question had taken her off guard. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, like I’m a little English and Scottish with maybe some German thrown in way back in there. But you look like you have an exotic background.”

“Ah, I see what you’re asking now. Actually, when it comes down to it, I’m more a mutt than anything.”

“Funny, that was what I was thinking, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to call you that.”

Samantha laughed. “Wise choice there.” After shifting the cue in her hand, she said, “Let’s see. I’m pretty much pure Cuban on my dad’s side. Then my mom’s family is mostly Irish Catholic.”

“You’re not as much of a mutt as I thought you were.”

“I guess not.” With a wink, she added, “Thanks for the compliment about being exotic-looking.”

“I just call it as I see it.”

“Well, I like the way you see it. No one has ever called me exotic before.”

I shifted on my feet as electricity seemed to pop and crackle all around us. For a moment, I questioned if it was because I truly wanted Samantha, or if it was more that I wanted what I knew I couldn’t have.

Waving my cue stick at Samantha, I said, “You’re up again.”

She once again effortlessly sank her ball. After lifting her gaze to the ceiling and appearing deep in thought, she asked, “If you could have one dream come true, what would it be?”

With a grunt, I replied, “Wow, that’s the fucking cheesiest question I’ve ever heard.”

She poked me in the shoulder with the end of the cue stick. “Oh no, you don’t get to judge the question. By the rules of your game, you have to answer it.”

I held up a hand. “Fine, then. I’ll answer your hokey little question.”

“I’m waiting,” she said while tapping the toe of her boots. Damn, if it wasn’t both cute and sexy.

After fighting the urge to growl at her, I decided to answer her honestly. “The one dream I want to come true is to open my own motorcycle shop.”

Samantha blinked at me in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. What did you expect I would say? That I wanted a threesome with two Playboy models or to have a ten-inch dick?”

“Well, you can’t blame me for being surprised after your initial response to my first question.”

“That’s true.”

“And you mean you don’t have a ten-inch dick?” she questioned teasingly.

I laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She grinned. “I’ll admit that my curiosity is certainly piqued.”

“Let’s just say the size of my dick will stay a secret for now.”

“Such a pity,” Samantha replied, before winking at me.

Since I knew we needed to get off the subject of my dick, I leaned over the table and positioned my cue. “My turn again.”

“Wait a minute.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I questioned, “What?”

“I want to know more about the motorcycle shop you want to open.”

I shook my head. “I said we had to tell a secret, not go into a bunch of bullshit detail about the secret.”

“But you answered my questions about boxing. Why won’t you answer this one?” Stepping closer to me, she said, “Is the big, bad biker boy afraid to share?”

“I share myself just fine,” I countered with a smirk.

“Physically I bet you spread yourself around, but I’m talking about emotionally. Would it really kill you to explain to me why you want to open your own shop?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “You’re shitting me, right?”

“I’m not exactly sure what ‘shitting’ is, but I’m pretty sure I’m being sincere when I say that I want to hear about the shop.”

Bringing my free hand to my face, I scratched my chin in surprise. Having a woman interested in something about me other than fucking was certainly a first. From the start of our conversation, Sam had seemed genuinely interested in my life. I couldn’t imagine she was pulling my chain. “You really mean it?”

Samantha grinned. “Yeah, I do.”

I drew in a deep breath. “Okay, then, here it is. I love rebuilding old, broken-down bikes. I love making some former pile of junk into something amazing. So I want to open a shop where I can sell these rebuilt bikes. You know, something that is just mine—nothing to do with my brothers or the club.” Once I finished, I couldn’t bring myself to look her in the eye. I almost jumped when I felt her hand on my shoulder. When I dared to meet her gaze, I found that she was smiling sincerely at me.

“I don’t know why you didn’t want to tell me about that. It sounds like a fantastic idea—one that you could make money at as well as doing what you love.”

I bit my tongue to ask her once again if she was shitting me. Instead, I returned her smile. “Thank you. It means a lot when people take me seriously. I haven’t gotten a whole lot of that from my family over the years. Of course, sometimes I haven’t given them a whole lot of reasons to take me seriously.”

“Being the youngest means you get shit on a lot, huh?”

“How did you know I was the youngest?”

Samantha waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, Marley told me about your brothers, Deacon and Rev, when he was telling me all about the club. He’s really interested in the club and maybe one day patching in. He’s talked about it a lot to me.”

“I’m glad to hear he’s interested. He’ll need to keep up his spirits to get through the prospect phase.”

“It’s a pretty shitty period, huh?”

“Oh yeah, the worst. Especially when your dad is the president and your two older brothers are officers. You tend to catch even more hell to prove yourself.”

“Poor baby of the family.”

“You the youngest, too?”

Shaking her head, Samantha said, “I probably shouldn’t answer your question unless you sink a ball. I hate being a rule breaker.”

I groaned. “I’m regretting coming up with this damn game.” I then leaned over the table. “Red eleven.” Once the ball was securely in the pocket, I turned back to her. “Now answer my question.”

“I understand where you’re coming from because I’m the youngest of my family, too.”

“Go on,” I instructed.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Fine. I have an older brother and sister. Growing up, I was never taken seriously by them. Whenever I said what I wanted to do in life, they would tell me I would never make it.”

“Why?”

“Because I was a girl.”

“What did you want to do that being a girl mattered?”

Samantha’s face suddenly flushed, and she ducked her head. It was almost as if she was embarrassed that she had told me so much, which seemed out of place for the confident woman she was.

When she finally looked at me, she smiled. “Your turn.”

“Oh, no. Not until you answer me about what you wanted to do in life. And don’t think you’re getting out of the emotional stuff.”

She twisted the pool cue between her hands while simultaneously twisting her lip between her teeth. “More than anything in the world, I wanted to be like my dad.”

At her vague response, I prompted, “And what did he do?”

Staring into my eyes, she replied, “He took out the bad guys.”

“So you wanted to be a cop?” When she bobbed her head, I said, “I take it you aren’t one.”

“No. I do the books for a construction company.”

The answer she gave felt almost rehearsed, and I could tell she had no passion for the job the way she had for law enforcement.

“A secretary sounds like a good profession. Maybe not as noble as cop, but it’s still important.”

“Interesting to hear you say that.”

“Because I’m supposed to be an outlaw who hates cops, right?”

“I didn’t say that,” she protested.

“While I should be pissed at you for your small worldview of bikers, I’m going to let you off the hook.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “You are?”

“Yep. Going to bust my ass to prove to you how wrong you are.”

“Is that right?”

“It sure as hell is.”

After staring at me skeptically, Samantha smiled. “Okay. I’ll take your challenge and let you try to change my mind.”

“Should we shake on it?”

She shifted the pool cue to her left hand and then offered me her right. As we shook hands, I couldn’t help shuddering at the soft feel of her skin against mine. When we were done, Sam said, “I guess it’s my turn again?”

“This game is bullshit.”

Samantha snorted. “Yeah, well, it’s your bullshit, since you came up with it.”

I tossed my cue onto the table and crossed my arms over my chest. “Then as the creator of this game, I say it’s all bullshit, and we should answer each other’s questions without earning them.”

Samantha laughed. “I never pegged you for a quitter.”

“I’m not a quitter. Just curious about you.”

Tilting her head at me, Samantha asked, “Why?”

“Because I find you very interesting.”

“You find me interesting or you find my tits and ass interesting?”

My jaw dropped at her audacity. Not wanting to let her get the upper hand, I replied, “If I had to answer truthfully, I would have to say it’s a toss-up between you and your assets.”

“An honest man. How refreshing,” she mused.

“Admit it. You’ve enjoyed getting to know me and my emotional shit.”

Samantha grinned. “Yes, I have. But there could be even more under the surface. Like how you’re so in touch with your feelings that you cry at sad movies.”

I wagged a finger at her. “Actually, it’s that sad-as-hell ASPCA commercial with the pitiful-looking dogs and cats that gets me crying.” Jesus, did I actually just admit that? This woman could make me sing like a canary if she wanted to.

Samantha’s dark eyes widened. “Really? I cry at that, too. I have to change the channel the minute I hear the depressing piano music.”

“I guess it’s safe to say that one thing we have in common is a love for animals.”

“That’s right.”

“Next time you come here, I’ll have to take you to see Poe.”

“Who is Poe?” Samantha asked curiously.

“He’s a deer that Rev and his wife, Annabel, raised after his mother was killed.”

“That is too crazy.”

“Yep. He’s an adult now, but he’s so spoiled he still comes around to get attention . . . and some ground corn.”

Samantha laughed. “I would love to see him.”

“Then it’s a date.”

Just as Samantha stared at me in surprise, Marley asked, “What’s a date?”

I whirled around to see he had finally returned from getting the keg with Joe. “Oh, Samantha wanted to see my brother’s pet deer.”

Marley grinned. “No shit. A pet deer? For real?”

“Yeah, for real.”

“You need to count me in, too.”

“Then it’s a double date,” I said. A double date? What the hell are you thinking, you douche?

“That would be more like a threesome than a double date, wouldn’t it?” Samantha asked. When my gaze snapped to hers, a tantalizing look twinkled in her eyes. It was the kind of look that had the ability to make me feel like a fumbling teenage boy instead of a very experienced man.

After clearing my throat, I replied, “I guess so.”

Marley chuckled. “Leave it to my Sam to say something inappropriate.” He then slid his arm around Sam’s waist and drew her closer to him. “My girl is something else, isn’t she?”

I felt the heat of Samantha’s gaze on me as I replied, “Yeah, she is.”

“I’m glad. I hoped you would get along.”

Samantha smiled up at him. “You have nothing to worry about, babe, because Bishop and I get along really well.” She pinned me with her dark eyes. “Don’t we?”

“Yeah, we do.” With my mouth feeling unusually dry, I said, “Why don’t we go try out the new keg?”

“Sure,” Marley replied.

We ambled over to the bar, and Joe quickly filled us three foamy beers. Holding his glass up, Marley said, “Here’s a toast to new friends.”

Samantha snickered. “You can be such a lame ass sometimes.”

“But you like me anyway,” Marley countered.

The word “like” surprised me. I wondered why he hadn’t said “love” instead. Maybe their relationship wasn’t as serious as I thought it was. Of course that still didn’t give me the right to be lusting after Samantha.

“True,” she said as she raised her glass.

When I brought my mug up to clink with theirs, a feeling of dread pricked its way over my skin. Deep down, I knew this friendship would bring nothing but trouble and heartache. But in spite of all that, I drank to it.