Sanctuary (Freaks MC Book 2) by Sarah Osborne Page B

who was now having big hugs with a young guy leaning on the pool table.
    “ Well, you would say that. It's no secret how close you two are.” She looked up as the rumble of approaching Harleys filled the room. “Sounds like the guys are here.” Without another word she pushed herself away from the bar and strutted outside.
    “ Ignore her.” Beth laid her hand on Emma's arm. “For reasons best known to herself, she really doesn't like Samson. Come on, let's go and see your guy.”
     
    ~ oOo ~
     
    Samson leaned back as the sound of approaching bikes grew closer. Nodding to his companion, he fired up the engine and they joined their brothers as they crossed the intersection. Despite Tiny's insistence that he should distance himself from the witness, it made sense that it should be him that dealt with it. And a high profile run such as this provided perfect cover. There were dozens of witnesses that would swear that he and Fox were with them the entire time, and he was confident his little chat with the bartender would be a sufficient incentive for him to forget what he saw.
    While the media and TV would have people believe that the club rode around offing people at every opportunity, the truth was somewhat different. It happened, of course. Rats... people who hurt the club would often pay the ultimate price. But usually a well placed threat with – in this case – the offer to settle debts if the witness played ball, was enough. The last thing the club needed was bodies cluttering up the place. Samson grinned. There was always something satisfying about watching a stream of urine running down your victim's leg as you explained in graphic detail what would happen if he didn't retract his statement.
    Now all they could do was wait and hope that it was enough. There was no physical evidence to tie Barney and Tiny to the cookhouse fire, and there was a good chance the case would collapse. Samson glanced over to his brother and gave a nod. They'd done all they could, and now it was time to return home to the arms of their families.
     
    ~ oOo ~
     
    She looked wrong – too soft – standing with the other old ladies on the clubhouse steps. Even Beth had an edge to her now. The club did that to women. They had to be tough to survive, and although Samson knew she was far from being weak, Emma lacked that hard edge that the other old ladies had.
    Her smile, as he dismounted and walked towards her, never quite reached her eyes, and he felt like a complete shit for expecting this of her. He should throw her on the back of his bike, take her straight back to the airport and stay out of her life forever. “Hey.” He ran his fingers through her hair – it looked like she'd dipped the ends in a rainbow – and kissed her. “You okay?”
    “Yeah.” Reaching up, she touched his cheek and searched his face. “Yeah, I'm fine.”
    Her hand held tightly in his felt warm, and he had no intention of letting her go as they made their way to the bar. It was his fault she'd had such a crappy first experience of the club, and he was determined it wasn't going to happen again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yaz look over and whisper something in her old man's ear. His grip tightened as the vice President laughed.
    With her free hand Emma gently touched his forearm. “It's okay, Deke.”
    No it wasn't. It couldn't be further from okay. He gave her hand a squeeze and forced himself to smile. “I know. Wanna beer?”
    “Sure.” She grinned and looked down at her clothes. “I guess I should have tried to go for the biker chick look.”
    “ No.” Samson looked around the room. All the old ladies wore the same uniform: Jeans, leather jackets and black boots. Some, like Beth, managed to look classy, but others – his eyes fell on that skinny bitch – looked like trash. He ran his hand down the sleeve of the baggy, pale yellow cardigan she wore because she liked how it felt against her skin. “You look perfect.” He lifted her