“She has no one, King. Vulture took advantage of her when she was most vulnerable. Someone has to take her side.”
“So you’ve decided you’re her knight in shining armor?”
Razor scoffed. “No. Even Nat knows I’m no prince. She’s worth it, King. After all this is over, I intend to make her mine. My old lady.”
King blinked. “You always said you’d never settle down, that you’d ride solo until you die.”
“Things change,” Razor admitted. “Go ahead. Tell me this woman makes me weak. I won’t argue. That’s fine with me.”
“You two hardly know each other,” King pointed out. “What if there are more skeletons in her closet? Or if she runs after finding out who you really are?”
“I’ll take those risks,” Razor said. “And we might not know each other well, but she feels like the stranger I’ve known all my life.”
“This woman really has dug her hooks deep into you. Not an easy feat,” King said with a whistle.
Razor didn’t care for his mocking tone. “She has a name. I suggest you learn it. Because she’s sticking around.”
“You’ve changed, Razor,” King said. “I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.”
Razor got to his feet, silently seething. This conversation had led to nowhere. He could’ve been with Nat, giving her a tour of the clubhouse or getting her something to eat. To make her feel more at home. He neared the door and yanked it open.
“Razor,” King called again. Razor had been tempted to show King the finger, but that seemed too juvenile.
“What?” he asked, biting his inner cheek to avoid delivering an insult.
“We all swore an oath when we joined the MC,” King finally said. “We’re with you on this.”
Razor sucked in a breath. He didn’t want King to see the raw emotions on his face, so he nodded and gently shut the door closed behind him.