Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Bama

"Hey, Bama, you got a minute?" Ripper's voice cuts through the noise of the clubhouse, a rough edge to his tone.

"Yeah, what's up?" I reply, glancing around to make sure no one's eavesdropping.

The place is buzzing tonight, but my mind's been a mess since that night with Jordyn.

A week feels like forever and yesterday all at once.

"Just need to talk," he says, leading me to a quieter corner.

His eyes have that look, the one that says there's more going on than he's letting on.

"Man, I gotta get this off my chest," I say to Ripper as we sit at the bar, nursing our beers.

The dim lights cast shadows across his face, making him look even more worn out than usual.

He nods, signaling me to continue.

"Remember that night at The Rusty Nail?" I start, feeling the pressure build in my chest. "You were with me having a beer and went off to the bathroom. When you did, I saw Jordyn with that bastard Blake. He's all cocky and shit. He starts running his mouth, saying she's a biker slut."

"Fuckin' Blake," Ripper mutters, his eyes narrowing.

He takes a long swig of his beer, but it doesn't erase the tension etched into his features.

"Yeah, fuckin' Blake is right." I slam my fist on the counter, the sound echoing through the clubhouse. "I lost my shit, man. Couldn't just stand there and take it. Had to show him no one disrespects her like that."

"Good for you, standing up for her," he says, arching an eyebrow in approval. But there's something else lurking in his eyes, something heavy.

"What's up?" I ask, leaning in closer. "You suddenly look stressed out."

"There's somethin' you should probably know," he says, his voice low, almost a whisper. He looks around, making sure no one's eavesdropping. "Blake's The Commander's grandson."

"Son of a bitch," I breathe out, the weight of his words hitting me like a freight train. "That's who Jordyn got mixed up with? Fuck, that's not good."

"Yeah. She really knows how to pick ‘em." Ripper nods, his expression grim. "It's a mess, man."

"Mess?" I scoff, anger bubbling up inside me. "I wasn't about to let the bastard talk to her that way. Knowin' he's The Commander's grandson doesn't change a thing. Sure, it makes it more complicated, but fuck him. He had no right to stand there in front of everyone and call her a biker slut."

Ripper's eyes darken. "Yeah, you're right. Dumbass bastard."

"Yeah," I growl, slamming my beer down on the counter.

I can't even hide my anger remembering what he did.

"I have to give credit where it's due." Ripper runs a hand through his hair, eyes darting around the room as if searching for answers. "You did right by her, man. Standing up for her like that."

"Yeah, but I'm sure it's gonna add fuel to the fire," I mutter, wiping my hand on my jeans. "He couldn't just be some stuck-up prick. He just had to be The Commander's grandson. This is gonna cause all sorts of problems."

"Yeah," Ripper sighs. "It is, but we'll deal with it."

"Fuck," I whisper, more to myself than to him.

The image of Jordyn hurt and vulnerable flashes in my mind.

The thought of anyone disrespecting her makes my blood boil.

Ripper nods slowly, taking another swig of his beer.

His gaze is hard and thoughtful. "She means something to you, doesn't she?"

"More than I thought," I admit, my voice coming out rougher than intended. Jordyn's face flashes in my mind—a mix of defiance and vulnerability. "But it's not just about what he said, Rip. It's . . . everything. The way he looked at her like she was nothing."

Ripper licks his lips. "If someone did that to Tara, I'd have their fuckin' head. You ended your situationship with Stiletto because you had a thing for Jordyn, didn't you?"

I swallow hard and look over my shoulder, making sure we don't have any prying ears. "Yeah, I did. Jordyn's always captivated me. But the moment I had her, I suggested we have a one-night stand like an absolute idiot. What man in his right mind does that?"

Ripper cackles and takes another sip of his beer. "The kind that wanted to talk himself out of what he really desired."

Shit, sometimes I think Ripper is like a damn therapist.

"Blake's gonna be a problem," Ripper mutters, almost to himself. He leans back against the bar, "As much as I don't want to, we're gonna have to tell Zane and Blackjack what happened."

"I really don't want to," I confess, knowing it'll spread through the clubhouse like wildfire. "The second we tell them, Zane or Blackjack is gonna tell her fathers."

"Yeah." Ripper nods, shrugging his shoulders. "But there's not much we can do about that. With the issues the club has, we need to go and tell them so they can be aware."

"Fuck, I wish shit was simpler." The words leave my mouth before I can filter them. "Wish I didn't have to blow up my spot like this."

"You're walking a fine line, Bama," Ripper warns. "But, coming from someone who's with a club member's daughter, just keep your head screwed on straight."

"I hear you," I say, though I'm not sure if I really do.

All I know is that Jordyn being mixed up with Blake probably isn't a coincidence, and I wonder if The Commander sent him to her for surveillance or even leverage.

"So," Ripper mutters, running a hand through his now scruffy beard. It's like since he settled down with Tara, it's been growing out. "When you gonna lock her down?"

"Lock her down?" I scoff, shaking my head. The weight of the question feels like a punch to the gut. "Man, I don't even know. Gotta sort out my feelings and shit before I can do anythin'."

"Testing the waters, huh?" He smirks.

"Yeah," I say, leaning back against the rough wooden bar. My fingers drum an erratic beat on its surface. "I need to talk to her about shit. We said one time, but you know damn well I can't ignore the way I want her."

"Do I ever," he replies, nodding slowly. "Just don't take too long, Bama. Waters have a way of getting choppy real fast around here."

"Trust me," I say, locking eyes with him. "I don't plan on waitin' too long at all."

I change the subject from me and Jordyn to something that's been nagging at me the last few days.

"Hey, what was up with the ride being canceled last week?" I ask, shifting gears.

The memory of Blake's cocky grin flashes through my mind. "Since you knew about Blake being The Commander's grandson, you must be privy to more shit than the rest of us."

Ripper's expression hardens, his jaw tightening before he shrugs nonchalantly. "I don't know. You're teacher's pet around here, or did you forget that?" he asks, his voice lacking the usual edge.

"Seriously?" I press, unable to mask my frustration. "You don't know?"

"Yeah, seriously," Ripper repeats, his gaze meeting mine without flinching. "Don't got all the answers, Bama."

His indifference stings, but I know better than to push further.

Knowledge is power, and while I want to dig deep, if he doesn't have the answers, then he doesn't have the answers.

I glance around the clubhouse, the familiar scent of leather and stale beer grounding me.

The place was mostly barren but is now buzzing with low conversations, the hum of engines outside a constant reminder of the life we've all chosen.

"All right," I mutter, letting the subject drop for now. "Guess some things we have to wait to hear about."

"Exactly," Ripper says, his gaze drifting past me, probably already moving on to the next issue at hand.

His shoulders relax slightly, the tension easing from his posture.

"Still," I add, my thoughts veering back to Jordyn, "whatever happens, we gotta watch our backs. Especially with this issue. Want to talk to Zane and Blackjack tomorrow?"

"Yeah, we can get them while they're drinkin' their coffees," Ripper agrees, a dark shadow crossing his face. "Probably better that way, honestly."

"Yeah," I say, the weight of his words settling in my gut.

There's a part of me that doesn't want to tell them, but I don't have a choice.

I know I need to because my hitting Blake is only going to add fuel to the fire.

"Well," Ripper says finally, clapping me on the shoulder. "I gotta get goin'. Poison's at Tart with Tara, and it's about time for her to get off."

"Catch ya later," I reply, my eyes flicking to the door just as it swings open.

And there she is—Jordyn, walking in with that confident stride that makes my heart skip a beat.

My gaze locks on her, and I can barely remember what we were even talking about.

"This is my fuckin' point," Ripper says, smirking as he catches me staring. "That stare right there is why you two can't be a one-time thing. Look how you lose yourself when she walks into a room."

"Shut the fuck up," I mutter, but deep down, I know he's right.

There's no fucking denying it.

I force myself to blink, dragging my eyes away from Jordyn and back to Ripper.

He's leaning against the bar, arms crossed, giving me that look—like he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"Just stating the obvious." He shrugs, his smirk widening. "You stare at her like she's the last cold beer on a hot day. Can't fake that shit."

"Fuck off," I mutter, but my eyes drift back to Jordyn despite myself.

She's talking to her mother, Roxy, now, laughing about something, her smile lighting up the whole damn place.

"See? You're hooked." Ripper's voice pulls me back, but his words sit heavy in my chest.

"Yeah," I admit, knowing there's no point in denying it anymore. "I need to talk to her about it."

"Do it before someone else takes her," he says, his tone turning serious. "Life's too fucking short to play games and live with regrets."

He's right. Dammit, he's right.

I can't keep pretending there's nothing between us.

I take a deep breath and push off the bar, making my way toward Jordyn.

Each step feels like I'm fighting my way out of quicksand, but there's no turning back now.

"Hey," I say as I reach her side.

Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

"Hey yourself," she replies, a hint of a smile playing at her lips.

"Can we talk?" I ask, jerking my head toward a quieter corner of the room.