Free Breaking It All: A Hellfire Riders MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs) by Kati Wilde Page A

the ache of losing Red or hurting for Jenny. This is more like the quiet fragility that sometimes came over her when my brother was deployed overseas, during those long days between hearing about a marine’s death on the news and hearing from Stone himself.
    But my brother’s fine. I’ll admit the past week had me a little worried—he’s only been texting at weird times and he sounds odd . Not just stressed and frustrated but barely like himself. Gunner’s back, though, and the way they’re joined at the hip, that means Stone will be around here somewhere, too. I wasn’t sure they’d make it to the funeral at all but they must have flown in at the last minute.
    So my mom has no reason to worry about Stone. Not that being the Riders’ enforcer isn’t dangerous, because it is. I don’t think my mom knows all of what goes down in the club, though.
    It’s better if she doesn’t know. And even if she guesses, it’s better if she isn’t aware of all the details.
    I shouldn’t be aware of all the details, either. But that’s another side effect of working at a biker bar. Some of the Riders talk when they’re drunk. But even when they aren’t drunk, some speak in louder voices than they should, simply to be heard over the music—and sometimes they talk about problems my brother has taken care of.
    But Mom knows Stone can handle himself. And a threat that could stop someone like my brother? I can’t even imagine. It’d have to be something huge. Terrifying.
    There’s nothing like that threatening him.
    So I think my mom’s current fragility stems from worry about me, instead. Maybe thinking of how I could have been the one they buried today. I’m high-risk for new cancers, after all. And ever since I heard that Red was sick, I’ve thought about it more and more.
    My mom might be thinking of it, too. But I won’t ask if she is. It’s possible that I’m wrong and she’s simply grieving Red. Our families were close. Jenny is almost like another daughter.
    Bringing up my old sickness would only make her worry more, anyway. There’s something she taught me a long time ago: Whenever someone assumes to know what you are thinking about, that person usually reveals what is occupying her own mind. So I’m not going to mention the leukemia now and make her think that I’m obsessing over how long I have to live.
    Because I’m not. I’m quitting all that, too.
    I’ll continue doing all the healthy crap that I’ve been doing for years. But I won’t keep expecting death to jump out of the shadows. Instead I’m going to assume that I’ll get the typical eighty years—and start living like it, too. And if I get sick again…well, I’ll deal with it then.
    The kitchen door swings open and my mom comes in carrying another empty platter from the buffet set up in the dining room. A burst of conversation follows her through before the door muffles the noise again.
    “Megan’s rounding up some of the other ladies,” she announces. “They’ll take care of the remaining cleanup.”
    The kitchen counters are empty. All I have left to clean is the platter she’s holding. “It’s pretty much taken care of.”
    “You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen what’s left.”
    I can imagine. Almost all of the Hellfire Riders are here, along with their wives and old ladies, but Red wasn’t just part of a motorcycle club. He co-owned a construction company and had enough employees to fill another house. Then there are neighbors and friends, like my mom and dad. He was well-liked in Pine Valley, and in addition to paying their last respects, many visitors are bringing food to share.
    While she slips the platter into the dishwater, I grab a towel and start drying my hands. “How does Jenny look?” I ask.
    “Guess.”
    I smile a little. I can’t remember exactly when we started doing this, but it’s a game we’ve played for a while: Take everything you know about someone and guess what their reaction