Prologue

The change in tempo causes me to glance across to the bar seeing, as expected, Peg’s in charge of the music again. I raise my eyebrows toward Wraith and we give almost identical shakes of our heads. When the sergeant-at-arms is in one of his moods, who knows what he’s going to put on, and it would be useless to object to the playlist he’s chosen for the night.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Crystal, my old lady, my soulmate, the love of my life. She’s standing over by the bar, her hands gently supporting Amy, our three-year-old daughter, who’s perched on a stool. As she looks over and gives a little wave of her fingers and one of her brilliant full-of-love smiles, the song starting to play sends me back to when I first met her, and soon I’m losing myself, listening as the words of “Main Street” take me back in time.

She wasn’t a dancer, and it wasn’t a club downtown, but a bar where she worked as a barista. And yeah, I was walking past the first time I caught a glimpse of her through the window, her beauty and vivaciousness clear through the glass.

It was nearly closing time, and fuck knows why, but I stopped and waited, smoking cigarette after cigarette until, eventually, I saw her come out. She was walking up that lonely street, frowning. Worried how vulnerable she’d seemed, I’d followed her at a distance to make sure she was safe. It was only a block to the parking lot where she had left her car, but seeing her, such a beautiful woman, and all alone, made my heart skip a beat. She shouldn’t be walking the streets in the dark. Not without someone to watch out for her.

I couldn’t explain what drew me there, but the next night I returned to the same bar, and staying outside, peering in and watching her work. Her tables seemed to fill quickly, patrons being drawn to the girl in bright coloured clothes who always had a smile on her face and a friendly comment for everyone. People sitting in her area looked happier than those at other tables, as though just being close to her lightened their moods. Her obvious joy in life was infectious.

I’d been a full member of the Satan’s Devils MC for just over six months, and like any newly patched brother, made full use of the sweet butts whose services had been denied to me while I’d been prospecting. But from that first night that I saw her, I turned them all away. She didn’t know it, but she was already mine.

Not being modest, I know I’m good looking—shoulder length blond hair, blue eyes that seem to draw attention from the women I meet. A big burly tattooed biker, men tremble in front of me while their women flutter their eyelids from behind, trying to capture my eye. I’m not afraid of anyone or anything, except I’m nervous of approaching this woman who’s drawn me in. Almost scared of this inexplicable attraction that wipes all other women from my mind. What’s keeping me from getting close and taking what I want?

It’s the fear of rejection that’s holding me back. The concern she might just treat me like any other one of the numerous advances she must have. That I’d be dismissed in the same polite way she’s clearly declining suggestions from other men. I’ve watched her enough to know she’s an expert at turning them down, somehow leaving them wearing a smile even as she rebuffs them.

I’m walking too close, I know it, but can’t stop myself closing the gap just to watch her long auburn hair swing around that heart-shaped ass. Her tight leggings do nothing to hide her figure as she strides confidently to her car. Suddenly she stops and turns, coming face to face with me, a rugged biker.

“Are you following me?” Her voice is musical, her tone half amused, as if it’s an everyday occurrence to have a man just trying to be near her. And it probably is.

“What? No. I’m just walking to my bike.” Which happens to be parked in the same parking lot as her car. “It’s in the lot up the street.”

“Mine too.” I already know that. It’s no coincidence.

“Then shall we walk together? It’s not safe for a woman to be walking alone.” Not one like you, who any man would lust after.

She shrugs and awards me one of her heart-stopping smiles. “Seems I don’t have a choice if we’re going the same way.”

There’s so much I want to ask her, such as would she like to spend the night in my bed? But I feel strangely tongue-tied and awkward. Silence descends as we go to our separate vehicles. I don’t get her number, or try to take up any more of her time.

She drives away and, after a moment, I follow her to the exit, but peel off in the other direction. Going back to the club, and straight to my bed, I relieve my cock with my hand.

A pep talk to myself, and the very next day I pluck up the courage, and instead of stalking her from outside, go and take the last table in her section. Recognising me, she comes over, hands me a menu, and then, fuck me¸ she takes the seat opposite. Elbows on the table, she rests her chin on her hands and studies me as I pretend to read the specials for the day. My mouth unable to form any sensible words, I stutter my order, not really caring what I’m going to be served.

“What’s your name, biker boy?” she asks as she jots down what I’ve asked for.

“Dale,” I reply.

Her head tilts to one side. “Thought you bikers had road names.”

I shrug. “Not been give one yet.”

Her eyes shine, her gorgeous mouth turns up at the corner, then she gets up and puts her hand on my shoulder in passing. “Right, I’ll get on and get this for you.”

Even through the leather of my cut my skin burns where she’s touched me, as though with that one action she’s marked me as hers. She leaves me feeling like a schoolboy with a crush, unable to say what I really want. My food’s delivered, I couldn’t say what I ate. When she brings me the bill, I shoot out my hand and rest it on her wrist. “Wanna get together sometime?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

I treated her like porcelain, careful not to frighten off the woman who captured my heart from the first time I saw her. I wined her, dined her, and eventually took her to the clubhouse, the first biker on the new compound to get serious about a woman. I was nervous about how she’d fit in with my brothers, but I needn’t have had any concerns. The very first step she took over the threshold, she walked in and owned that place—and them—from the start.

They’d laughed at me, the rough biker brought to his knees by a woman, and she teased me along with them. When she started to say I had a big heart, it caught on quickly and became my road name. She captured me, she was it for me. She named me, and I knew I’d be forever hers.

The Bob Seger song ends, and I realise she’s standing beside me, a hand on my shoulder. She squeezes her fingers and asks in her soft, sweet voice, “What were you thinking about? You were miles away.”

I cover her hand with my own and give her the honest answer. “About how much I love you.” I stand and pull her close, feeling our hearts beating in time. “And how you’re the only woman and old lady I’ll ever want, or have.”