Page 17 of Love Gamble
I’m someone who appreciates the small things in life, especially after growing up in foster care. I love my family here, and I’d do anything to support them. I came from nothing. And now I’ve got money, power, family, and I get to ride a badass motorcycle around all day.
You sure as hell won’t find me complaining.
“You heading out?” Corey asks as I open the garage door as quietly as I can, not wanting to disturb her creativity.
“Yeah, going to the Devils. You need anything?”
She tilts her head to the side and flashes me a small smile. “No, but thank you for asking.”
Fuck.
I nod and step inside, grabbing my leather cut, sliding it on, and getting on my Harley.
I start the engine, enjoying the sound while I put on my helmet. I fucking love my bike. And riding her is one of my favorite pastimes. I grin as I roar off.
Romeo and River are out front of the Devils clubhouse when I ride in, standing by their bikes and chatting.
I take my helmet off and approach them. “Reporting for duty.”
Romeo smirks, while River’s expression gives away nothing as per usual, his blue eyes flickering.
River is a hard motherfucker, I’ll give him that, but when I see how kind and protective he is to Corey and Bella, I know that there’s another side to him. It’s just not reserved for the likes of me. Still, he’s a useful man to have around, and he’s clearly loyal to Romeo and the motorcycle club.
I was always wary of him based on his reputation alone. He was the enforcer, the one the Devils turned to when they needed to put pressure on someone. But he’s not just the muscle. He obviously advises Romeo and is very strategic about how they operate the MC. I respect him, a lot.
We head off to meet with another chapter of ours, to see what they know about the Lost Lions MC.
Knowledge is power, and we need to know what we’re getting into before we dive into it.
Chapter Eight
Corey
When Damon returns from wherever the hell he’s been all day, I’ve packed up my paint supplies for the day and am sitting in the kitchen with some coffee, my own cup feeling full after a day of creating.
He glances around, then opens the fridge with an amused smile. “Making yourself at home, I see.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I reply, lifting my chin. “This is my clubhouse, too.”
“Yes, yes it is.” He closes the fridge with his foot, hands full of ingredients. “Hungry?”
I’m always hungry. “What are you making?” I ask, intrigued.
“Nothing fancy,” he replies, placing everything down on the counter. “Just some teriyaki chicken rice paper rolls with a peanut dipping sauce.”
My eyes widen, impressed. “In that case, yes, I am hungry.”
I watch as he works, laying thinly cut vegetables on the rolls and then wrapping them with expert precision.
“Where did you go?” I ask, nosily.
“To the bar,” he replies casually, now chopping a slice of cucumber.
My eyebrows rise. “In the middle of the day?”
“Yes,” he replies, giving nothing else away.
“With your girlfriend?” I press, pursing my lips.