Hacking the Biker's Code Page 6

  “Do you want tea, honey?” Mom asked.

  Dad nodded, stroking her cheek, then kissing her. “I’ll get it.”

  “This,” I cried. “This is what I’m afraid of losing.”

  Dad frowned. “What did I miss?”

  “She’s afraid that she and Rabbit aren’t going to last,” Mom said.

  Dad shook his head. “That boy knows what’s up, sweetheart. You’re going to last.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He poured a glass of tea and smiled. “I’m sure.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Did you threaten him?”

  “I don’t threaten, baby girl. I simply explained that if he ever hurt my princess, he’d find out what it felt like to be a eunuch.”

  “Daddy!” I groaned, dropping my face in my hands.

  “It’s a father’s right and pleasure to take the measure of the man his daughter’s fallen in love with,” he said.

  “And when Levi brings a girl home, will you do the same to her?” I challenged.

  Dad laughed. “Your brother can’t keep it in his pants long enough to bring a girl home.”

  “Brian!” Mom admonished.

  He grinned. “Am I wrong?”

  “No, you’re not wrong,” I conceded. “But we’ll be revisiting this conversation when he finally puts it back in his pants.”

  “You two are the worst,” Mom complained.

  “Blame him,” I retorted. “He’s the parent. I simply mimic what I was taught.”

  “She’s got you there,” Mom said.

  “How would you feel if we eloped?” I asked.

  “Elope, how?” Mom asked.

  “Like, run to the courthouse and make it official, rather than a big wedding.”

  “Oh, I don’t care if you have a big wedding,” she said. “I would love to be there when you say your ‘I dos,’ but if you don’t want a big wedding, I totally get it.”

  “Thanks, Mama.”

  For the next hour, I let the love from my parents sink into my soul. We talked a little bit about wedding plans, but more about the big party rather than the quickie marriage at the courthouse, and when I was ready to head home, I was armed with the goodness that was my family.

  Parker

  Monday morning, Rabbit woke me at nine and I reluctantly left our bed to step into the shower. He refused to join me, which kind of dampened the giddiness of my wedding day.

  “I promise, I’m gonna fuck you the second you’re my wife,” he said. “Waiting will make it hotter.”

  “I highly doubt that,” I grumbled, pulling the shower door closed.

  He grinned as I closed my eyes and dropped my head under the water. When I opened my eyes again, he was gone. I took time with my hair and makeup and donned the white plunge-neck jumpsuit I’d bought for our special occasion, walking out to my family room to find Jasmine, Willow, Olivia, and Lyric sitting at my dining room table, laughing while eating whatever Rabbit had probably made for them.

  “Oh my god, hooker, you look amazing!” Jasmine crooned, jumping up from the table and pulling me in for a hug.

  “What are you guys doing here?” I asked, glancing at Rabbit who just grinned a shit eating grin before taking a sip of coffee.

  “Like we’d miss your first big day,” Willow said, hugging me next.

  “Quin’s going to meet us at the courthouse,” Jasmine said.

  Quin was Badger’s wife. Badger was the treasurer for the club, and was also Dash’s bestie. Of course, bikers didn’t refer to each other as ‘besties,’ but that didn’t stop us women from doing it...behind their backs.

  Lyric and Olivia took their turn to hug me and I bit back happy tears. “You guys left your babies to come see me get married?”

  “Well, yeah,” Willow said, with a frown. “I can’t believe you’d think we wouldn’t.”

  I waved my hands in front of my face in an effort to dry my tears, but it didn’t work, and I ended up blubbering the way I did at those stupid Folgers Christmas commercials.

  “Babe,” Rabbit said, pulling me against his chest.

  “You did this, didn’t you?” I accused.

  “I plead the fifth.” He stroked my cheek. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” I gave him a watery smile. “I love you.”

  He kissed me gently. “Love you, too, Pebbles.”

  A chorus of female voices let out a sing-songy, “Awww,” as I pulled away from my man and joined them at the table.

  “Wait...before you eat...” Willow said, and grabbed my robe from behind the bedroom door, sliding it on me backwards. “Just in case.”

  “Oh, good plan,” I said and sat at the table with my girls.

  Rabbit rushed us through breakfast, and I chalked it up to him being eager to make an honest woman out of me, but when we got to the courthouse, I couldn’t miss the rows of Harleys parked in front.

  “Oh my god, what did you do?” I breathed out as Rabbit took my hand and led me inside.

  He stopped, facing me and cupping my cheeks. “Don’t be mad.”

  I closed my eyes. “Which means I’m going to be, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s your wedding day, Pebbles, so I let your girls run with a few plans. I think they’ve snowballed.”

  “I think they invited every biker in Savannah,” I rasped.

  Rabbit smiled. “More like Georgia.”

  “There you are,” Stevie called as she came running toward us, a bouquet of flowers in her hand. “They just called the number before yours.”

  She handed me the flowers and the line ticket to Rabbit.

  “What are—?”

  “Shadow and Otter are watching the store,” Rabbit said.

  “Um...”

  “I’ve been training them secretly for two weeks, Park,” Stevie said. “They’re actually really good.”

  I looked up at Rabbit. “You did this.”

  “Depends...” He studied me. “Are you happy?”

  “So happy! Stevie’s one of my girls, honey, you know this.”

  “Then, hell, yeah, I did this.”

  I rolled my eyes, hugging Stevie, then kissing Rabbit before following them both inside. We’d already filled out the form online and printed it off, so all we had to do was pay the fee and then Doom would perform the ceremony tonight with everyone in attendance. Of course, it appeared as though no one wanted to wait for tonight, as there were at least fifty bikers milling around waiting for us.

  “You okay?” Rabbit asked, squeezing my hand.

  “It’s family.” I could feel my cheeks heating, but I smiled and nodded, lowering my head so my hair could fall forward. “It’s just a little overwhelming.”

  “Don’t hide, baby. I got you.”

  I raised my head and leaned against him, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

  My parents were standing with Levi and they smiled big, my mom pulling me in for a hug.

  “Are you sure you’re not mad?” I asked her.

  She cupped my cheeks. “Baby girl, your dad and I love you no matter what. It’s your day, your choice. If I had to do it all over again, I’d have eloped with your dad and told my parents to suck it.”

  I giggled. “I love you, Mom.”

  “That does not mean you’re getting out of me helping you find a dress for the big party,” she warned.

  “I would never,” I assured her.

  “My turn,” Dad said, pulling me in for a hug. “Proud of you, sweetheart.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.”

  “Did I miss it?” Quinlan cried as she rushed in, dragging Badger behind her.

  “No, we’re still waiting to file the license,” I said, hugging her.

  “Oh, good!”

  “Number twenty-four!” an agent called, and Rabbit led me to the counter.

  The woman looked at him, then me, and shrugged and I tried not to laugh. I’m not surprised she seemed confused, considering my jumpsuit cost over five-hundred bucks, and Rabbit was in his signature j
eans, T-shirt, and cut. I loved every second of our odd-couple appearance.

  Everything was very quick and no-nonsense. We paid the fee, recorded the license, then Rabbit informed me we were going to do the ceremony now and I groaned. “I had a feeling something was up.”

  “Doom figured we’d do it here, get it officially recorded, then we can party tonight.”

  I gripped his cut. “Were you afraid I might back out?”

  “Pleadin’ the fifth on that one as well,” he retorted.

  I smiled. “I love you, Zane, you’re stuck with me now and not just legally.”

  He cocked his head. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” Doom said, smacking Rabbit’s shoulder.

  We filed out of the courthouse and around the side where there were more trees and less concrete, and I couldn’t help but notice that Sloan DeMille was there, camera in hand, chatting with Quin.

  “Is that Sloan DeMille?” I asked.

  “Yeah. She’s gonna take some pictures.”

  “Of us?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “How the hell did you get Sloan DeMille to take our picture?” I demanded.

  She was the Annie Leibovitz of Savannah and in high demand and not just as a photographer. She’d started in the industry as a plus-sized model and she had a whole line of clothing and lingerie catering to women of all sizes.

  She was also expensive.

  Rabbit shrugged. “Quin knows her.”

  I tugged on Rabbit’s hand to get him to stop walking. “What do you mean, ‘Quin knows her?’ People don’t simply know Sloan DeMille, Zane. They worship her, work for her, or admire her from afar while jacking off to one of her posters.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You jacked off to one of her posters?”

  I snorted. “I plead the fifth, and for your information, the correct legal term for female masturbation is jilling off, honey. Get it right.”

  He dropped his head back and laughed. “Jesus Christ, I love you.”

  I bit my lip. “Is she really going to shoot our wedding photos?”

  “Yeah.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “What?”

  “Shut it down, Rabbit,” I begged. “Right now. I am not letting Sloan DeMille photograph me on my wedding day when I don’t have a proper dress.”

  “Not happenin’.”

  I swallowed compulsively. “Okay, thank you.”

  “No, you misunderstand,” he said. “She’s shooting us right here, right now, then she’ll also shoot us in twelve days when you have a proper dress.”

  I threw my hands in the air. “But I look like—”

  “Don’t you dare fuckin’ finish that sentence,” he growled. “Unless you’re going to say you look like a fuckin’ cover model.”

  I let out a frustrated squeak. “I’m just saying that if I knew it was Sloan DeMille, I would have dressed in something... well, fancier.”

  “Baby, you look amazing,” he said. “You’re fuckin’ sexy as hell and I can’t wait to peel you out of that jumpsuit when I take you home.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You think I’m sexy as hell when I’m in my bathrobe and slippers.”

  “Yeah, well, you are.”

  I shook my head. He’d never understand, so it would just piss him off if I argued with him.

  “You freakin’ out yet?” Jasmine asked as she and Willow made their way to us.

  “Why didn’t you tell me Sloan DeMille was going to be here?” I hissed.

  “Because we knew you’d freak the fuck out,” Jasmine said.

  Willow smiled. “I grabbed your makeup bag, so Jasmine can do her thing.”

  I took the bag from her. “Thank god for small favors.”

  “Hey, I’m a huge fuckin’ favor,” Jasmine retorted, leading me to a bench and throwing a jacket over me to protect my white jumpsuit.

  Jasmine started refreshing my makeup just as Quin walked over with Sloan. “Parker, Sloan, Sloan, Parker.”

  “Oh my god, you’re gorgeous,” Sloan said. “Have you ever done any modeling?”

  “Ah...” I blushed beet red and let out a nervous chuckle, trying to lower my head, but Jasmine tapped my chin and I kept it up.

  Sloan gave me a nod. “I’m going to take a few candids if that’s okay with you and once you’re ready, we’ll do some more focused shots.”

  I swallowed convulsively, letting out a garbled squeak, unable to form words.

  She smiled and walked toward the men, as I swatted Jasmine’s hand away. “Oh my god, I was just rude to Sloan DeMille. What the hell is wrong with me?”

  “Honey, you weren’t rude,” Quin crooned. “Sloan gets it. I promise.”

  Willow hunkered down in front of me. “Don’t panic, Parker. We’ve got you. You’re stunningly beautiful and your pictures are going to rock your world.”

  “But...she’s...Sloan DeMille,” I whispered.

  “And you’re Parker McCormick. Or you will be in about ten minutes.”

  I gasped quietly, then smiled. “I will be, huh?”

  Willow squeezed my hand. “Focus on that, honey.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “Thanks, Will.”

  “May I continue?” Jasmine asked, and I nodded.

  Ten minutes later, she declared she’d done all she could, handing me a mirror.

  “Oh my god, you’re an artist,” I breathed out.

  “Honey, I’m only as good as my canvas.”

  I hugged her. “I love you. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Let’s get you married,” Willow said, linking her arm with mine, and we headed back toward my future.

  Rabbit

  Tuesday morning, I dropped my wife at her shop, then headed to the club. Jesus. My wife. I couldn’t love that fact more. I hated I couldn’t keep her in bed, but she had responsibilities, including a lunch with some friend from a local shop, so we wouldn’t see much of each other even if I’d gone to work with her. Besides, Doc had called an all-hands to talk about next steps with whoever this Beast asshole was.

  Walking into the great room, I felt a beefy hand grasp the back of my neck and shove me into the kitchen.

  “Jesus, Alamo, what the fuck?” I snapped, trying to pull away.

  He just squeezed harder. “You ever let my woman’s name cross your lips with the likes of Sugar Bear again, I’ll personally remove all your Dogs ink and I won’t go easy.”

  I sighed. “I hear you.”

  Probably not my finest moment, even if it was to prove a point. I’d be pissed too.

  He slapped the back of my head and I forced myself not to wince. “There’s no way they’re goin’ to the Bike Rack.”

  “Exactly what I said,” I pointed out.

  “However, your comparison was not appreciated.”

  I rubbed the back of my skull. “Pickin’ up on that.”

  Alamo crossed his arms. “I told Jasmine she’d have to settle for Blurr.”

  Blurr was a club that had opened a couple of months ago. It was high-class, exclusive, and hard to get into. Unless you knew Doom, who assisted with the fire inspection and now had several favors owed for his assistance in getting the permits passed.

  “I can live with that,” I said. “Provided we have a couple recruits on them.”

  “Doom and I already got that handled.”

  “Figured.”

  He gave me a chin lift. “Need an icepack?”

  “Fuck you.”

  Alamo laughed. “Glad we got that sorted.”

  “Well, shit,” Jasmine breathed out as she walked into the kitchen.

  Alamo raised an eyebrow. “What are you doin’ here, Firefly?”

  “I was hoping I’d beat you here, so that Rabbit kept his head.” She gave me the once over. “You look okay.”

  “I don’t leave marks,” Alamo retorted.

  She scowled at her man, then turned c
oncerned eyes to me. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to say anything about the fucking Sugar Bear thing. Swear to god, Mo got it out of me.”

  “I’m good, babe,” I assured her.

  She patted my cheek and smiled. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “Okay, now that we’ve got that outta the way,” Alamo said, taking Jasmine’s hand, “you and I need to have a conversation about stayin’ where I put you when there’s a psychopath on the loose.”

  “Mouse followed me here,” she said.

  “Mouse is not me.”

  They continued to argue as Alamo led Jasmine out of the room, and I took the reprieve to grab coffee, then headed back to the office I shared with Mouse and fired up my laptop.

  My cell phone buzzed, and I saw it was Booker calling, so I answered. “Hey, brother.”

  Booker was the VP of the Dogs of Fire in Portland, and he and I worked closely together mostly because we could both hack pretty much anything, anywhere. My strengths were in exploiting weak spots at the code level, but Booker was better with hardware and the psychology of engineers which made us a good team.

  “Your search provide anything interesting on the Beast?” I asked.

  “No, which is what I find so interesting,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let me ask you a question. If I asked you to dig up information, basic stuff, on Sugar Bear. How much data do you think you could produce within three hours?”

  “Enough to base a TV movie of his life on,” I replied.

  “Exactly,” he replied. “And you seem to think the Beast is some sort of a heavy hitter, right?”

  “I can’t imagine some small-time punk flexing like this.”

  “How long have you been looking into the Beast?

  “About a month. Plus, I’ve got Jette working on it.”

  “And what have you found?”

  I frowned. “Nothing. That’s why I called you.”

  “Don’t you find that a little strange? Three pros like us tracking this prick and we can’t even find his real name?”