Chapter 8
I glared at my closet again. I wanted to dress up, but Alamo should’ve already been here. I didn’t have much time to primp—and it wasn’t like this was a date anyhow. I pulled on a prettier blouse all the same. I wasn’t lacking in the bust, but this shirt emphasized what I had to my best advantage. Then I grabbed my leather jacket. It was weathered, sturdy, and unadorned.
Unlike my mother, I had no right to wear club colors. The only way a woman could wear a Southern Wolves patch was if she was someone’s “old lady.” Then she’d get a “property of” patch too. Being a Wolf’s daughter or niece or ex wasn’t enough. I was all three of those, but I wasn’t anyone’s old lady. Aubrey had been willing to give up on Killer in order not to wear those patches. I didn’t understand it, but like
