Then, my mind automatically flicked back to the image of Stone.
I thought about the massive, scarred Biker President who had stood like an unbreakable brick wall between my body and a crowded room of angry outlaws. I thought about the man who had knelt on the hardwood floorboards of his bedroom just to bury his face in my lap and tell me that I was his absolute world. Stone didn't keep me in a friend zone for two years while he played games with other women. The exact fraction of a second he realized he wanted me, he had claimed my name in front of the entire highway brotherhood, fully prepared to start a bloody war with the Devils gang just to keep a single hair on my head from being harmed.
Stone was dangerous, he was a criminal, and his life was written in blood and violence—but his l
