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“If you want,” I said It was best not to show fear to McMurphy; he ate it like candy “It doesn’t matter to me”

“You know the rules,” he said McMurphy was about forty, way too old for this wo’s He wore his beat-up leather cut, like he always did, and I could smell him from where I sat: sweat, oil, and yesterday’s whiskey Some women just couldn’t resist it, like an aphrodisiac

The rules meant that I wasn’t supposed to touch the president’s old lady I wasn’t supposed to touch anyone’s old lady I was just the guy who did the club’s ink, not a full-fledged brother

I looked hi have I been inking the Black D?” Which meant Of course I know the rules, idiot

McMurphy shoved his chair back hard and stood up If I’d flinched in that moment, he would probably have hit me, but I didn’t

“You touch her, you’re dead,” he said “Fucking dead” He turned and left the room

I looked back down at Dani She hadn’t even looked at McMurphy She was still watching , the edge of her bra visible Her look wasn’t hostile—it was afraid, but courageous Her body was so vulnerable In a few years, her eyes would be hard and her body would be a canvas of the hits she’d taken

And I realized so When he’d warned me not to touch her, McMurphy had assu

And I didn’t

Two

Dani

God, he was beautiful

He had no idea He was a little scruffy—a short beard like a lot of the guys wore, and his hair was a little long But he didn’t have the sunburned look that the men of the club had, because he didn’t ride for hours in the sun like they did He didn’t ride at all From what I heard, Cavan Wilder was a nowhere es without being bound by its rules Without being bound by any rules

And he was beautiful

You really sahen you were up close, like I was His hair was light brown, lit with a few strands of gold It w

as thick, brushed back fro on the back of his neck His eyes were gray, set in a face that had not a single flaw in it: straight nose, high cheekbones, an angled chin Not a baby face—a man’s face A faint crease on his forehead, between the eyes, like he did a lot of thinking Eyes that had seen things, most of them dark and maybe unhappy

He didn’t have big uys, but he was fit, his raceful, the arms that showed from the sleeves of his t-shirt supple withbeneath his tanned skin He earing jeans and a black t-shirt, not leather He had a s in the lobe of one ear He s spicy

He sentroo I could do this This was the plan It had to work It had to

I held the sheet he’d given ain He had prepped the drawing, so he could print it onhis ink and tattoo machine ready I watched hi about hiirls who came and went from the club, but he rarely did No one had ever seen him with a steady woman, and he certainly didn’t have a wife

The club was like family, and everyone knew everyone’s business, but no one knew Cavan Wilder’s business He was just their ink ht Outside of that, he was a mystery