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“Handsome? Sexy? Great tongue action?” He flicked out his tongue.

Smothering her grin, she shook her head. “No, it’s the fact you don’t try to change me. You let me be myself. I grew up surrounded by men with a lot of opinions about women, but turn around and disregard a woman’s opinion. You don’t do that.”

“And I promise I never will.”

And this was why Vi was Reaper’s backpack as they rode in formation out of Shadow Valley and into the country.

As expected, she got some head shakes and eye rolls when they showed up on Reaper’s sled since she wore her AFMC cut.

Of course, she didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought.

And neither did Reaper.

Chapter Twenty-Three

As the sun dipped behind the horizon, the smell of grilled sausages, hamburgers, and hot dogs mixed with the smoke from the roaring bonfire filled Reaper’s nostrils. The deep bass from the music playing onstage thumped against his chest.

In the short time he’d been a patched member of the DAMC, he’d always enjoyed the camaraderie and brotherhood as well as the sense of freedom while riding with his knees in the breeze.

Except for this last one. For the first time, he’d been tense during the run and was relieved when it came to an end.

All because of the woman who had her arms wrapped around him.

Vi was right. It had certainly made a statement. But it wasn’t because they’d been riding together. No one seemed surprised about that. It was almost as if everyone knew already that she was his “regular.”

No, it wasn’t Diesel’s oldest daughter being his backpack that caught the attention.

The issue was Vi wearing her Angels of Fury cut.

Reaper figured it might cause problems, and despite her knowing it, too, she did it anyway.

Of course she did.

The sisterhood really liked annoying the fuck out of the brotherhood.

Only, as the man, they expected him to handle the problem.

The problem being Vi. As well as the way she didn’t give a shit about the club’s long-held traditions. She wanted to blaze her own.

He was chewing a bite of the sausage he had generously covered in spicy brown mustard when he hooked his elbow around her neck and pulled her away from her conversation with Kiki, Rage’s mother, and Sophie, Zeke’s mother.

Once he’d put some distance between them and the rest of the gathering, he released her. She rounded on him with narrowed eyes. “What the hell was that about?”

She grabbed the partially eaten roll from his hand and took a massive bite out of his sausage before handing it back.

Talking around a mouthful, she said, “Damn, that bread is dry. I need a beer.”

“That’ll have to wait a few minutes.”

“You do know, after that caveman display, we’re now being closely watched.”

“And like you riding on the back of my sled, it was done on purpose.” As her mouth opened again, he shook his head. “Before you curse me out or knee me in the nuts, hear me out first.”

She swallowed the food. “I’m all ears. Start talking, Devil Dog.”

That was the plan. “In the future, once you get your ‘Property of’ cut, you’ll wear that when you ride with me. When you ride with the AFMC, you can wear your own.”

“Or…”