Page 96 of The Riders’ Reign

“She’s ours.” I snap. “Ours. No one else’s.”

His gaze darts up. “Yes, of course, Jack. No disrespect meant.”

He focuses once more on the machine, and after a few more moments, he sits back. “Done.”

Sliding the thick leather patch out from under the needle, he hands it to Ghost. Ghost looks at it reverentially and rubs his thumb over the leather. Then he passes it to me.

I do the same. My thumb caresses the silver thread of our names, woven into the leather she will wear, stating she is ours.

“The other two you requested are just here. I’ll be one second.” Gareth stands and walks to the back of the room, sliding open a top drawer in an old-fashioned metal cabinet. “Here you go. Gotta say, never done patches like these before.”

He hands a patch to Ace and one to Rook. I know what they are but declined to have one myself, as did Ghost.

Ace takes his and grins, then holds it up for me and Ghost to see.

It simply says Property of Camile.

“I still believe you two should have one.” He smirks.

Ghost arches his brow. “I think we’ve pushed the club rules as far as we can before something breaks.”

Ghost is right. The club prez and sergeant at arms walking around stating they’re owned by a woman would go down like a lead balloon. It’s fine for Ace, who everyone knows is crazy, and Rook, who is a junior member. Ghost and I must be a bit more careful.

“So, what time are we having the party where we give her the patch and her cut?” Ace asks, bounding next to me as we leave the workroom.

“Eight. Don’t be late.”

Let’s hope this gathering goes down a little smoother than the last one.

45

CAMILE

When I reach the clubhouse, I’m a little nervous. The guys called a gathering of the entire club this evening, and Jack told me to dress up. That’s it. Dress up and be at the clubhouse at eight. I haven’t seen any of them all day and instead have had Saul and Big Mike babysitting me, so I know that something is up. I just don’t know what.

I’m wearing a short, strappy black dress, with heels. On my wrist is a silver bracelet, and I have a Tiffany silver key around my neck. Mom bought it for me many years ago, and I cherish it because of that.

Yesterday, she and my brother moved to the apartment they’re renting. I was sad to see them go, but also a little relieved. I have a feeling Mom knows there’s something going on between me and more than one man. She’s not a fool, and she’s got eyes. Even though we’ve all kept the PDAs to a minimum while my family were here, I expect she’d only have to see me look at them to know my feelings.

Despite not talking about it to me, I could feel the weight of her concern. No doubt, once she’s settled in, I will be getting a call. I think at that point, I’ll just ‘fess up. I don’t want to lie to her, even if by omission.

I walk inside the clubhouse and stop short. The place looks entirely different. It’s no longer a dingy biker bar, but a brightly lit space. It’s spotless, so someone has given it a deep clean, and it’s been decorated. There are tablecloths on the usually beer sticky tables, and a long trestle at the back has food laid along it.

Bottles of expensive champagne sit in ice buckets, and placed on either end of the bar top are two huge vases filled with pink roses. At the front of the room is a stage and a microphone, so maybe there’s going to be a band, too.

What the hell?

People mingle around, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself.

“Hey, there.” Felicia saunters over to me. “Something tells me all this is in honor of you.”

“Really?” I look around, my heart filling. “Like a welcome party?”

“Yeah, just like that.” She winks at me.

I don’t get the wink.

“What?”