Riley kissed the brutally tender skin, the touch of her lips soothing in ways not physical.“It always did.”
Most evenings blurred into nights of shower sex, where there was hot water pounding, steam fogging the mirror, her back against the tile while he held her, driving up slow and deep until they were both shaking.They watched stupid action movies on his couch, her feet in his lap, trading terrible one-liners until one of them climbed into the other’s space and clothes came off again.
It felt dangerously close to normal.Just like home.
Dan found he loved it.
***
Riley
The three women settled into the cozy corner booth at the clubhouse, sunlight filtering through the window and casting a warm glow on their table.Riley sipped her coffee and glanced at Maria and Nora with a small smile.It was their first real hangout since the Ole Lady Yoga Day, and the air hummed with that electric energy of new friendships revving up.
“So, spill,” Riley said, breaking the ice as she set down her cup.“What’s the story with that tattoo, Nora?I spotted it peeking out from your sleeve the other day.It looks like a chopper with some wicked flames?”
Nora grinned, rolling up her sleeve to reveal the intricate design, which was a vintage motorcycle roaring through stylized fire, the words “Ride Free” scripted beneath in bold, edgy font.“Yeah, got it after my first cross-country trip with Gunner.His bike’s my baby.I know, it’s his bike, but Momma paid for the custom pipes, matte-black finish, and a new set of shock absorbers so it handles like a dream.Gunner’s the mechanic, because that man can fix anything with an Allen wrench and a smirk.”
“That tattoo’s sick, woman.Who did your artwork?The style is familiar, but I can’t figure out why.”
“Oh, over in Louisiana, a gal who moved down from Chicago to take over a shop that the Incoherent MC backs.Silly’s got mad skills in artwork and even more with how she wields a tattoo gun.This took two sessions, but I was happy to hang out in a hotel overnight so we could finish it.”Nora twisted her arm back and forth, admiring the tattoo as if it were brand new.“I got to meet her at a convention last year.Her booth was SRO all day long, so I picked up her contact info and sent in my ideas.”She shook her head.“I had a notion of what I wanted, but when I saw her interpretation of my poor description, I was in love.”
“That’s the beauty of tattooing.You have the client’s vision, and if they can articulate it well, even in rudimentary language, an artist can begin with that and meld in ideas that complement the original ask.Like with Dan.”Riley paused, trying to decide how much to share.Fuck it, I’m just rolling with the vibe.“He’d sent in a good description for a shoulder tattoo, and it would have made good art.But I picked apart the elements and rerolled it into a chest and shoulder piece that is to die for.He’s got a final tattoo that memorializes the people who were lost, honors his service, and contains elements of how that career was taken from him in a blast.I can’t wait to get started on his next idea.”She grinned.“I have a dozen requests for consults from the club now.Having a captive audience is going to be hard to get used to.”
Maria leaned forward, her dark brunette locks tumbling over her shoulder in a glossy wave that nearly matched Riley’s in length.“Oh, I get it!The guys are stoked you’re going to be the official artist for the club.Rocker’s got plans for a tattoo from you.It’ll be—” She held up a finger.“—wait for it...a motorcycle!”She laughed, and Riley and Nora joined her.“I’m obsessed.I’d really like a sweet smaller bike to ride myself.Rocker’s in favor, so now we just need to get the finances together.Motorcycles ain’t cheap, as y’all both well know.But I love the look of a bike that’s all speed and curves.The way they command the road...riding them is like pure adrenaline in human form.”
Riley laughed, twirling a strand of her fiery hair around her finger.“I’m all about classics—my bike is my escape machine.Gets me out of the city, wind whipping through this mane.And yeah, the men?There’s something about a guy in boots and ink who knows his way around an engine.It makes my heart race faster than a straightaway.Riding beside Dan is so satisfying because he’s not all about the competition.He gives me the space to drive like I want.”She paused, eyeing Maria’s hair with genuine admiration.“Hey, speaking of wind-whipped manes, your hair is insane!Mine’s this tangled red chaos that frizzes in the humidity, but yours is so sleek and dark.Same length, totally different vibe.How do you keep all that hair looking perfect on rides?”
Maria blushed, tucking a strand behind her ear.“Genetics, I guess?My dad’s side is all gearheads with that Italian flair, so the dark waves come naturally.But girl, your red is stunning—like taillights at dusk.I bet it flows like a flag on the highway.Do you ever braid it for the bike?Mine gets whipped around sometimes, but I can’t bring myself to cut it.”
Nora nodded enthusiastically, her tattoo flexing as she gestured.“You two could be hair twins from different garages.Makes me jealous—mine’s shoulder-length and boring brown.But back to bikes.Riley, tell us more about that bike.I’ve seen it, I mean, everyone has.Do you run with any custom mods?Gotta love those handlebars that make you feel like a queen of the asphalt.”
As they swapped stories, Riley recounted her favorite twisty routes with animated hand waves, Maria shared photos of her trips with Rocker, and Nora dished on the wildest biker bars she and Gunner had hit.The conversation was amazing, how the laughter flowed easily.By the time their coffee mugs were empty, the booth felt less like a pit stop and more like a home for kindred spirits, bound by chrome, ink, and flowing locks.
***
Dan
A call came in at 3:17 a.m.on a Wednesday.
Dan grabbed his cell after a single ring, not saying anything as he answered the phone.
“Tech room.Now.”
He recognized Denver’s voice.The urgency was enough to have him moving before he’d even hung up.Carefully draping a sheet over Riley, he rushed to get dressed enough to ride to the clubhouse, locking the door behind him.
Pushing the limit on his bike, Dan was there in twelve minutes, boots unlaced, hair still damp from the shower he’d taken after putting Riley to sleep working his mouth between her thighs.Denver didn’t look up from his screens.
“Got a hit.Burner phone used to contact our three HHMC friends?Same one texted Riley’s personal cell last night.”
Dan went cold all over.“Show me.”
A photo filled the center monitor, showing Riley asleep in his bed, sheets tangled around her hips, his arm slung across her waist, her red hair fanned over his pillow.It had been taken from the foot of the bed.Timestamp: 11:42 p.m.
Four hours ago.
In my house.
Four hours ago.