Biker’s POV
I had been awake for almost twenty-four hours.
The previous two days had been spent in another state handling a problem that had required my presence, my signature, and far more patience than I had been willing to give it.
The problem had finally been resolved.
The meeting was over.
The private jet had landed less than an hour ago.
And instead of going home, taking a shower, eating something that did not come in a paper box, and sleeping for twelve uninterrupted hours…
I walked into the airport parking garage and climbed onto my motorcycle.
Because the club was expecting me.
And when the club expected me, I showed up.
The black motorcycle came alive beneath me with a deep, controlled growl.
I adjusted the gloves covering my hands and pulled the helmet over my head.
