RIO
We pulled up to the iron gates of an unnamed building. It looked more like an abandoned warehouse than a business that Wolf assured me was open, functioning, and that he owned and operated.
There were six or seven bikes parked out front and a few trucks from the brothers already inside the club’s private training gym. I had told Wolf that I missed working out and mentioned wanting to use the full-scale jungle gym at the Carvers, but Wolf also wanted me to become comfortable with his gym and training regimen. He said that both gyms offered benefits, but in different ways.
I tightened my arms around his waist as he guided the bike through the gated entrance, my cheek brushing against the leather of his Kutte. There was something about being so close to him that made the rest of the wo
