Page 44 of Property of Yak

“I think the clubhouse. He said something about old lady duties.”

She gasps. “What in the actual fuck, Julie Lynne Corday?”

“Language,” I chastise.

“Oh no, you don’t. If there is a time I get to cuss, it’s when my best friend tells me that she is practically married to a biker,” she hisses.

My heart beats faster in my chest. “Excuse me? What did you say?”

She starts laughing, but there is no humor in it. “This is what I mean. You are so far out of your depth. You shouldn’t be going back to that place alone. It’s not safe. You saw what went on there.”

“I did, but I won’t be alone. He will be with me,” I remind her.

“Oh, the guy who claimed you as his old lady but didn’t tell you what it means? Yeah, I feel so much better now.” Her sarcastic tone has my blood boiling.

“Well, if you are so smart, why don’t you tell me what it means so when I go with him tonight, because make no mistake, I am going, I won’t make a fool of myself?”

She sighs. “You have gotten yourself into a mess, and Dad is going to kill us both.”

“I know, but that’s a future problem. I have twenty minutes to be ready for whatever he has going on, so help me.”

“An old lady is like a wife in biker terms. It means he claimed you in front of the club as his property. It’s archaic, but it offers a layer of protection. It means no one can touch you without his wrath. With that being said, not all clubs are the same. Some view an old lady as their one and only woman, while others step out on the side with club girls when they are wanting something strange, if you catch my drift. I don’t know what the Kings of Anarchy’s views on old ladies are, but if he is expecting you to perform your duties, then I would assume it means doting on him. Being on his arm. Honestly, I have no idea. I’m not planning to be an old lady, so I haven’t asked much about it with Steve.”

I swallow hard. He said he claimed me, and I knew it was a big deal, but I didn’t realize how big of a deal it was.

“Okay so what do I wear?” I whisper into the phone, my confidence shaken.

“Remember that black dress I bought you when we were seventeen?” she says.

“The one that barely covers my ass and probably is even tighter now?”

“That’s the one. Wear that.”

“What? I don’t want to put myself on display like that,” I groan.

“You’re an old lady now, and I guarantee that’s the only thing you own that will help you fit in. Put on the dress. Do that smoky-eye thing with your makeup. Then hope like hell this man truly cares about you because if he doesn’t, you are going to need help. You remember our SOS word?”

“I do.”

“Good. Don’t forget it. Oh, and Julie?”

“What?”

“Please be safe. I fucking love you.”

I don’t even chastise her this time for her language. Instead, I give her a simple reply before hanging up the phone.

“I love you too.”

Yak

“Stop fidgeting,” I whisper to Julie as I lead her toward the clubhouse.

When I picked her up at her house in my new truck, I wasn’t expecting the siren in front of me.

I figured I would be taking Little Miss Daisy to a club party again. I swear her closet has to be filled to the brim with pastels and dresses that fall below the knee.

So I was surprised as hell when she stepped out of her house in that short black number that barely covers her ass. It’s so tight that her tits look like they will topple over the top if she breathes too deeply.