Page 29 of Seasons of Love
He gave it to me, no questions asked. I ran my thumb over his knuckles before drawing circles over the back of his hand.
"Aiden, I need you to know I wouldn't look you up and invade your privacy like that. Not even before I met you." He nodded and a small smile graced his lips. "But if you tell me there's a sex tape out there, then I have a cupboard full of popcorn at home."
A piece of bread flew in my direction, but I was quick enough to catch it midair and stop it from hitting anyone sitting behind me.
I put the bread in my mouth and grinned.
"You're an animal," he said.
I winked at him. "About that sex tape…"
He bit his lip.
Fuck.
12
AIDEN
Of course there was no sex tape. Not that Richard hadn't asked on multiple occasions if we could tape ourselves having sex, but I'd always said no.
It didn't mean I couldn't tease Slade though, but a group of men walking in the diner got my attention.
"Oh my god, Slade, are those real-life bikers?"
He looked behind him to the door where the men wearing leather vests with patches sewn on them had grouped by the bar. The waitress pointed toward a booth on the far side of the diner and they all followed the guy that came in first.
"Do you think they'd be willing to talk to me?"
"No!"
Slade's answer was so abrupt that I turned my gaze from the bikers to him.
"Why?" I frowned and crossed my arms.
So far he'd avoided all my questions about bikers. Anything about motorcycles he'd spell out the equivalent to a ten-page essay for the smallest question. When I wanted to know about bikers, he clammed up.
Well, I had a book to write, and my career was on the line, so if he couldn't help me, then I'd find someone who could.
"You don't want to mess with bikers, Aiden."
His tone was so unyielding it was getting on my nerves. I was tired of half-answers.
"Why? Because they're dangerous?"
"Yes."
"Are you saying that all bikers are dangerous? Because that's incredibly judgmental. I don't want to know what activities they get involved in. I want to know how they function as a unit, how do they find each other, and how they decide who's in and who's out."
He looked behind him again. One of the bikers was back at the bar talking to the waitress. They seemed friendly enough. I tried to read the patch on the back of his vest.
The letters were too close together, but I could make out The Lost Puppies, and then under a logo, which looked like a dog, it had Connecticut. A motorcycle club named The Lost Puppies couldn't be all that dangerous, could it?
"Aiden," Slade's voice was calm, but I could detect the underlying unease. "Biker clubs earned their reputation. Think about that. Can't you find what you need for your book on the internet?"
"No."
"Fine." He got up from the booth and put some money on the table. "Go talk to them and come find me when you're done." Then he turned around and left.
