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Authors: Last Ride

Chantal Fernando

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To my three little men,

TY: Your acceptance of everyone, your kindness.

TX: Your gentleness, the way you are so loving.

AJ: Your humor, the way you never give up.

You all make me proud every day.

“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.”

—Ernest Hemingway



know if I should be disappointed in myself for allowing them to get one up on me, or proud that they had to bring in six men to take me down.

Six men.

To kidnap me.

One tiny woman.

Yeah, I'm going to take it as a compliment.

I was leaving the law firm, about to get in my car when they got me. They grabbed me from behind, one man pinning my arms behind my back and pushing me against the hood. Before I could even scream, my wrists were bound behind me, my feet tied, and a sack pulled over my head.

Yeah, I've had better days.

Sitting in that van, surrounded by strange masked men—with no idea what they wanted from me—was not easy. I wanted to lash out, fear taking over my senses, but I was able to contain it. I've been in worse situations than this and come out alive, and I know that I'll get out of this one too. After about a thirty-minute drive, I was taken out of the van and carried somewhere. They sat me on a chair and retied my wrists behind me, also bound to the chair so I'd have limited movement.

They haven't taken the sack off my head, yet, but it's loose and not heavy, so it's easy to breathe. I just wish I could see their faces. They're going to regret the day they tried to fuck with me.

“You cowards are all going to die,” I tell them, pulling on my bindings. If they knew me at all, they'd have put tape over my mouth too, because I'm never going to shut up. I'm very good at talking my way out of situations. All I have to do is bide my time until Dex finds me.

And he will find me.

I have no doubt in my mind that the Wind Dragons will do everything in their power to save me. We don't lose. And when someone crosses us, we show no mercy.

The sack is suddenly pulled off my head. I grit my teeth and look directly into the eyes of the man in front of me.

I've never seen him before, and yet I have to wonder exactly what kind of shit I've gotten myself into this time.

“Not even going to buy me a drink before you tie me up?” I ask my kidnapper, unable to help myself.

He makes a sound of distaste, a mixture between a sharp exhale and a scoff. Then, he smirks.

His eyes say
I've got you now

I don't like them.

I'll let him have his moment though.

I know it won't last.



One week earlier

by Rihanna and Drake blasts through the speakers of my iPod dock, and I do a little grinding move with my hips as I walk from the stove to the sink to wash my hands. Another set of hands grabs my hips, as Dex brings his chest up against my back.

“You're so sexy when you dance,” he murmurs, lips softly touching my neck.

“I'm sexy all the time,” I reply, wiggling my hips against him. The song changes into “Your Number” by Ayo Jay and Fetty Wap, and I turn off the tap and spin around to face my husband, Dexter Black, aka Sin, the president of the Wind Dragons Motorcycle Club.

“Is Asher still sleeping?” I ask, referring to my six-month-old son. I chose the name Asher because it means fortunate, blessed, and happy. Considering my daughter's name is Clover, I think that the two names go together quite nicely.

“Yeah, although don't ask me how with this shitty, loud music,” he says, dipping his head for a quick kiss on my lips. This man has been mine for years and years, but every time our eyes connect, I still get butterflies in my stomach. I never tire of seeing him, being with him. It's a love I never expected to have in my life, a rare gift that most women only dream about.

“This song is great,” I chide, but I reach back and lower the volume all the same.

He kisses me again, this time deeper, his hands squeezing my behind as he pulls me against him. I can feel the rigid outline of his cock through his jeans, and it has me wanting to drop to my knees right here and right now. I run my hand down his body, from his toned chest to his deliciously ripped abs, feeling them through his thin white T-shirt, then stop when I reach the waist of his jeans, my fingers lingering there.

Of course Clover chooses that moment to wander into the kitchen, her ponytail of black hair bobbing with each step. She pins us both with hazel eyes, identical to mine.

“Ew, Daddy, get a room.” She pauses, pulling a face, her upper lip rising. “But leave Mama in the kitchen, because I'm hungry.”

I laugh at that and say, “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

She sits down at the table, carrying her little bag with her. She opens it and pulls out her crayons and mini coloring book. Asher decides to wake up and starts crying out from his crib in his bedroom.

“I've got him,” Dex says, kissing me again quickly before leaving. He comes back moments later, our little bundle of joy wrapped in his arms.

“Asher is so cute,” Clover says, glancing up affectionately at her baby brother. Dex sits next to her, so she abandons her crayons and gives Asher all of her attention. She kisses his plump little cheek and says in a soft voice, “You're going to be the most loved baby in the whole world.”

My breath hitches.

In this second I know that even in my dodgy parenting style, somewhere along the way, I've done something right. I might have gotten knocked up in a one-night stand with a biker, raised my daughter with said biker and his club—not the most conventional upbringing—but I did okay.

I've raised a little girl with a heart even bigger than mine.

I'm sitting at a table, surrounded by all my girls—the women of the Wind Dragons. We're shooting the shit and snacking on chips and dip. Steph is also here, the girl Ronan has started dating. I don't know her well, but I already like her. She's a very modest, gentle type, and I like saying shit to make her feel awkward. She goes bright red at the mere mention of sex, something we're always talking about—at least when the kids aren't around. The men are all outside, building a playground for the kids, and the kids are watching a movie. All except Asher, who is fast asleep in my lap.

“It's normal to feel a little satisfied when your ex-boyfriend or husband downgrades,” Tia says, shrugging. “Even if you're super happy with your life now, it's a moment you're allowed to enjoy.”

“It's not mean,” Anna adds, amusement flashing in her green eyes. “It's a little petty, but I think if the circumstances are right, we're allowed petty.”

I lift up my cup of juice. “To pettiness!”

Everyone laughs and cheers, lifting their cups in the air before taking a sip.

“So what did she look like?” I ask Steph, whose ex is the topic of today's discussion. She ran into him and his new woman the other day and was telling us the story. Her ex-boyfriend cheated on her when they were together, which makes this moment that much better, even if Steph is too nice to enjoy it herself.

“I don't know,” she says, obviously not wanting to be mean. The only reason we know that her ex downgraded is because Ronan told us all.

He left Steph for that? He must be fuckin' blind or on some shit,
were his exact words, delivered with a wicked grin.
His loss, my gain. I should thank the fucker.

“Why don't you just show us a photo?” I suggest, now curious. “Do you have him on your social media?”

She nods, presses a few buttons on her phone, then hands it to Tia, who is sitting to her right.

Tia's blue eyes widen, almost comically. “I'm sure she's a lovely person.”

I suddenly can't stop laughing, so much so that Lana takes Asher from my arms. “That's it, let me see.”

They hand me the phone.

I look at the picture.

I tighten my lips. “Is she rich? She must be loaded, right?”

More laughter.

I'm being mean, I know. I'm not usually such a terrible person. At least I don't think I am. But come on, we've all been there. I remember checking out Dex's ex from head to toe when she showed up at the clubhouse one night and thinking that, yeah, he upgraded, even though I didn't say it out loud. I think we all have a little petty in us. The difference is, when I'm with these women, I don't need to filter what I say. I just say it. They never judge me for it, and vice versa. We're loyal to one another, but we don't owe that same loyalty to anyone else. If I stood up and announced that I needed to hide a body, they'd probably stand up and ask me where the shovels are.

“Oh my god, we're all going to hell,” Steph murmurs, scrubbing her hands down her face, then dropping her forehead to the table in a dramatic gesture.

“But at least
all be hot there,” I say, making her groan and the rest of the women continue to laugh. “I'd rather be sexy in hell than look like that in heaven.”

“We really are going to hell though,” Lana laughs, writing something in her little notebook with her free hand. I swear, the woman should pay me royalties with all the lines of mine she uses. I make a mental note to look into copyright protection.

“How did you and Ronan meet?” Bailey asks Steph, resting her hand under her chin.

“He saw me at a restaurant. When I was leaving he followed me outside and started talking to me. He invited me to the clubhouse.”

“Ahhh, the good old ‘come back to the clubhouse' trick,” Anna says, grinning. “What did you say to him?”

“I said no,” Steph says, smiling. “But then our paths crossed again about a month later, and I decided to give him a chance.”

Tracker walks into the room, completely at ease with the group of us. He heads straight for Lana and wraps his arms around her from behind, gently, because she's still holding Asher.

“I can't get over how much he looks like Sin,” he comments, staring down at the adorableness that is my son. And he's right: with his black hair and blue eyes, Asher is a mini Dex. I'm going to have to fight the girls off with a baseball bat. Better yet, my nunchakus—don't want to be too predictable. Hell, Clover will probably kick their asses for me. I look at Asher's cute little pudgy face and smirk. The poor kid is going to be a virgin until he's in his late twenties.

Dex walks in and glances around the room before his gaze stops on me. “Where are the kids? I want to show them the playground.”

“You're already finished?” I ask, pointing to the lounge room. “They're all in there.”

Curious, I stand up and head out back. When I open the door and step outside, my eyes widen. They've put together a whole playground, complete with a slide and swings—everything a little kid can dream of.

“Holy crap,” I mutter under my breath. Clover is going to love this. Hell, all the kids are. I hear the back door opening, so I turn around and watch as they rush out, looking extremely excited. Clover squeals when she sees it. Rhett—Tia and Talon's son—fist pumps, and Bailey and Rake's daughter, Cara, stands there with her mouth hanging open, palms pressed to her cute little cheeks.

“I love it!” Clover yells, then rushes to it. The other two follow. Everyone comes out to watch, and Dex stands to my right, hand resting on my hip.

“You guys did well,” I say, smiling as the kids rush around checking everything out.

“I know,” my cocky husband replies, kissing my temple. He then takes Asher from Lana, holding our son against his chest. “Never thought I'd see the day, but here we are with a fuckin' playground in our clubhouse. I'm sure Jim is rolling over in his grave right now.”

I grin at the mention of Jim, the old WDMC president.

“Would you change anything though?” I ask, already knowing his answer.

“Fuck no.”

I smile.

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