"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Johanna. Happy birthday to you," sang the members of Brikken.

The off-key tune and exuberate good cheer filled the clubhouse. Johanna waved them all to stop and then covered her face with her hands, which hid her smile. She wouldn't have wanted to spend her twenty-first birthday anywhere else.

Surrounded by her chosen family inside the clubhouse, protected from the outside world, she let her happiness shine. Twenty-one. A legit age.

Lowering her hands, she shouted, "Thank you, everyone."

"Party time." Keeffe lifted a bottle of tequila in the air, and the members of Brikken passed the untouched alcohol through the crowd.

Thorn thrust the bottle into her hands. "Drink. Drink. Drink."

The others joined in and chanted. She eyed the tequila, never having been someone who consumed different kinds of alcohol. Maybe a beer once in a while at one of the club parties but she never got drunk.

Lindsay and Ashley flanked her sides, encouraging her to tip the bottle. She leaned toward Lindsay. "Isn't there supposed to be salt and a lemon or lime with this?"

Overhearing her, Olin said, "Only on cheap tequila. That's bona-fucking Mexican tequila."

"Oh, shit." She cast a glance at Lindsay and shrugged. "Take care of me if I fall flat on my face."

She tipped the bottle, forcing herself to swallow. The taste different than what she'd expected, she licked her lips at the almost sweet funky taste, unsure if she liked it or was turned off.

The chants continued. Ashley nudged her with her elbow and laughed. "Again, or they'll never stop."

Knowing what to expect, she put her lips to the bottle and took another drink. She laughed at the exuberant cheers and held the bottle out to Olin.

He shook his head and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. Trying to hand the bottle off to everyone around her — they all refused, she ended up carrying it with her as she made the rounds to hand out hugs.

Music started, blaring inside the room. D-Con's new girlfriend Bethany hugged her.

"Are you having a good time?" Bethany pushed her long hair back.

"Great time." She reached out and tugged on D-Con's vest. "Better keep an eye on this one."

"I plan on it." Bethany smiled and leaned into D-Con. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Thanks so much for coming." She pointed, her hand still clutching the bottle. "I'm going to make the rounds."

For the next half hour, she mingled and hugged most everyone who came to wish her a happy birthday. Feeling lighter than she had in a long time, she rejoined Lindsay and Ashley. She hip bumped each one, putting her hands in the air, dancing to the music.

Liquid splashed into her hair from someone's upraised cup. She laughed, raising the tequila bottle and taking a long drink to quench her thirst. Lindsay took the alcohol away from her, and she laughed harder. Warm, exhilarated, and extremely giddy, she whipped her hair as she danced with her friends.

Alive and older, she celebrated being twenty-one years old. Women her age looked forward to the world opening up for them, going to bars, taking on more responsibilities, making plans to settle down and find their path in life. Men of all ages caught notice of someone of legal age enjoying their newfound freedom of living life to the fullest. The world was at her fingertips, nothing was impossible.

"Shake it, girl." Ashley jumped in front of her, arms spread, shimmying her upper body to the music.

Johanna leaned forward, shaking her breasts, loving the night. Every movement felt as if she floated. She felt good. Felt right. Felt wonderful.

Wanting to share her mood, she danced outside their circle into the crowd and swayed around the closest Brikken member. She grabbed Anvil's hands, putting them on her hips, then raised her arms in the air.

The sexy atmosphere with a lean biker in front of her, looking her over, she let her happiness out. She grooved the air, bringing her pelvis forward, watching Anvil's lower body—that remained still for her.

"This is so fun." She squeezed Anvil's biceps. "I love dancing."

Angelina, Chano's woman, danced between her and Anvil, facing her. "Keep moving, Jo. Have fun with everyone."

She laughed and moved over to Keeffe. Continuing to dance, she shouted, "Is Angelina sleeping with Anvil, too?"

"Don't know what shit you're talking about." Keeffe lifted his beer bottle, refusing to dance.

She took the drink from him and brought the bottle to her lips, satisfying her thirst. "I don't know. She didn't want me dancing with him."

"Who?" said Keeffe.

She pointed at Anvil. "Him."

Keeffe frowned, pushing her hands away from him. "Take a breather, Johanna, and cool off."

She laughed, moving closer to Keeffe. "Being hot is wonderful."

Arms wrapped around her waist from behind. She squealed as her feet left the floor. Plopped down away from Keeffe, she turned and found Olin as her manhandler.

"Olin!" She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Dance with me."

"I don't dance." Olin planted his hands on her hips and set her away from him.

She pouted. "You're no fun. What is it with bikers not wanting to dance?"

"Best not to be fun." Olin grimaced. "How much alcohol have you consumed?"

"Not enough." She danced back to him and grabbed his face. "I'm twenty-one today. Twenty-one. Do you know what that means?"

Keeffe leaned in and spoke low to Olin, who nodded. She twirled, looking for another partner when Olin and Keeffe took her arms and led her to the far side of the room. She whined in disappointment. It was her birthday, and she came to have a good time.

They pulled her through the door to the outside, letting her go. She turned to go back in, and Olin told her to stop.

"It's my party." She sagged. "Why are you trying to ruin it?"

"We need a moment, Johanna," said Olin.

Keeffe held out his hand. A red gift-wrapped present sat on his palm with a silky ribbon tied on top. She smiled and clasped her hands. "For me?"

"From Chief," said Keeffe.

For a fleeting moment, she believed Chief would walk around the corner of the building and surprise her for her birthday. He had never missed one and always showed up with a present. Her jaw opened, and she looked between the two men. They were here, and Chief was gone.

He'd been gone for two years.

Their faces blurred in front of her and the hollowness always present inside of her ached. Her knees weakened, and she rolled into herself.

"No, don't do that." Olin hauled her up before she sat on the ground.

"I want Chief." Her body convulsed, and she looked up at Keeffe. "I'm not going to cry. I won't. I can't, or I won't stop, and it's my birthday. Who cries on their birthday? God, this is so fucked up."

"Chief wouldn't want you to cry." Keeffe put the present in her hand.

Olin swore. "She's drunk, bro. Give her the other thing."

She sniffed, leaning on Keeffe hugging the present to her chest. "Other thing? He gave me more? How did he do this? Did he tell you what to buy? I love him so much. Do you know that? I've never loved someone before him. I feel like I'm dying. I can't take being away from him. It kills me. Each day is harder and harder."

"Shut up, Johanna." Olin ran his hand over his jaw.

She snapped her gaze to Olin and gasped for air. He almost sounded like Chief.

"Hey, hey, stop that now." Keeffe held up a cell phone. "He's calling, right? No reason to cry."

"I'm not crying." She grabbed the cell. "When...when is he calling?"

Only twice in the last year had Chief called to talk with her on the phone the club smuggled into prison for him. The rest of the time, she talked to him weekly over the prison line where she couldn't ask him questions. Those calls only frustrated and left her more despondent when the call ended without any warning.

"Any minute." Olin lowered his head and looked her in the eyes. "Pull yourself together. You're looped."

"I'm not looped." She held up her hands, filled with Chief's gifts. "Just fuzzy and sad, and it's my birthday which is totally stupid to be feeling this way. I don't—"

"Jo..." Olin's mouth tightened. "You're acting like a baby."

Am not. She swallowed the childish comeback. Too many years of Jett, Olin, and Thorn picking on her made it impossible to handle any lecture from them.

"He's really going to call me?" she whispered.

"Yeah." Olin's attention left her, and he walked across the yard of the clubhouse.

She gazed after him and squinted at the person heading toward him. The familiar high-heeled walk of Karla wiped away the mind-fog the alcohol had given her.

"I didn't invite her. I don't want her here," she mumbled, looking to Keeffe.

"She's got the freedom to come to the clubhouse as the mom to Chief's sons." Keeffe looked out into the yard. "I think Olin's taking care of her. Maybe Karla came to talk to him."

Olin's and Karla's silhouette in the darkness grew smaller. She turned her back, hurt that Karla hadn't texted her a happy birthday wish today. At one time, Karla planned parties around her day and made her feel special.

"Cold?" asked Keeffe.

She startled and realized she trembled. "No, I'm fine."

Everything seemed overwhelming. Her party—which she loved. Chief—who she loved. The gifts—what she loved. Brikken property—where she loved. She wanted nothing negative to happen tonight. No one to tell her how to dance or not dance. No one to tell her she couldn't drink. Having Karla show up only put guilt on her for something that was out of her control.

The phone rang.

"It's him." She connected the call and put the phone to her ear. "Chief?"

"Yeah, bug. Happy birthday."

"Thanks." She glanced at Keeffe and found him stepping away. "How are you?"

"Taking care of business."

She smiled. Nothing ever beat him down. One of the qualities she loved and wished she had herself. Maybe then, she'd be more resilient. She shouldn't worry about Karla and everyone else. Karla's opinion about her and Chief didn't matter.

"I hear everyone's there giving you a party. Can't believe you're twenty-one."

"Yep, I'm legal to drink now. When you get home, we'll have to get drunk." She laughed when she drew a chuckle out of him. "I drank tequila tonight."

"Yeah?"

"The first couple drinks reminded me of dirty socks, but after a while, it tasted okay." She yawned. "I wish you were here."

"Me, too."

"Two more years to go." She stared at the ground. "When you get back are you going to sleep at home every night?"

"I—"

"Cause that's what I want." Her stomach fluttered. "Every night, I sleep in the middle of the mattress and close my eyes, pretending you're beside me and we can pick up from the last time we were together. Do you remember having sex with me?"

"Burns in my head, bug. Got my hand, think of you, and all I want is to be with you. Nothing compares. Nothing. Once I'm back, I'm not letting you get out of bed for a fucking month. I'm gonna eat that body, fuck that pussy, and listen to your sweet tongue talk my ear off."

She blinked her eyes at the raw need in his voice. "You know what I miss?"

"My beard." He groaned. "Fucking love that, bug. Love how you're not scared of me and how from day one, you've whined when I peeled your fingers out of my beard."

"When you come back, I'm going to sit on your lap and snuggle with your beard. Don't push me away because you have to see to business, 'kay? Let me have you, all of you."

"You've got me, bug. Always have." He cleared his throat. "The guard will be walking through in a minute. I'm going to have to hang up and hide the phone. You go back and enjoy your party. Be careful drinking, so you don't get sick."

"Okay. Thanks for calling." Her chest squeezed, hating the end of their conversations. "I love you."

"Love you, too. Remember that."

The call disconnected. She used the back of her hand to dry her cheeks. He sounded down. She knew him well enough to hear past the words he gave her.

She hated having him in prison. He needed her, and there was nothing she could do.

"Done?" asked Keeffe.

"Yeah." She handed back the phone. "Thanks."

"Not a problem." Keeffe stepped back. "Are you coming back in or staying out here?"

"I'm going to stay out here for a few minutes, and just...think." She smiled sadly. "Thanks again. For everything. The call was the best present I could get."

Keeffe dipped his chin and walked back into the clubhouse. Hopeless, she inhaled deeply and blew out her breath. Tonight should've ended differently.

She should've ridden home on the back of Chief's Harley to their house where they could've celebrated her monumental birthday alone after the party, feeling special and loved. But, she was alone. No amount of tequila or dancing could numb her reality.

"God, this sucks," she mumbled, holding the small gift to her chest.

There was never enough time on the phone or privacy to talk deeper than what was happening on the surface. She sniffed. He'd gone out of his way and taken the chance to call her on her birthday, and she'd forgotten to thank him for the present. Walking over to the clubhouse, she leaned against the side of the building and carefully unwrapped the box, putting the ribbon in her pocket to save.

Every birthday, Chief would get her a piece of jewelry along with a couple of other presents. She'd received her first pair of diamond studded earrings on her sixteenth birthday, which joined the charm bracelet, initial pendant necklace, dangling silver hoops, and birthstone ankle bracelet. When she wasn't wearing them, they went in the jewelry box she received on her twelfth birthday, which replaced the musical ballerina box Chief gave her when she was nine.

She opened the box. A soft gasp escaped her mouth. Placed on a piece of velvet was a silver tag necklace with the Brikken colors—black, white, blue, and Chief's member number—seventy-eight.

He'd marked her as his property for everyone to see.