Wild Open Hearts (Bluewater Billionaires) - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,99

ever be anything more. Worried that her pet project—Lucky Dog—was merely a means to an end and she’d drop me like a hot potato.

I hated giving these thoughts power. But they were loud. Louder than normal. Which was why as I walked along the sidewalk I didn’t notice the group of motorcycles and riders beneath a palm tree.

Or my mother.

“Evenin’, son,” she said, in a voice like steel.

I stopped, mid-stride—turning slowly.

Time had not been kind to my mother—although she still gave off a dangerous air I was sure terrified the younger recruits. People assumed it was Rip, my father, who handled the Miami Devils with an iron fist.

They couldn’t have been more wrong.

Georgie wore her leather vest. Seven other MC members stood behind her with a coolness that didn’t hide their intent. They were here to intimidate.

I was standing there in a three-piece suit on my way to see my billionaire girlfriend. From the smirk on Georgie’s face, she caught the irony.

I debated walking past—ignoring the problem—but something told me they wouldn’t let me off that easy. And the last thing I wanted was them showing up at Luna’s event.

My old instincts rose immediately. But I wasn’t a scared, desperate kid anymore. I was a forty-year-old man who’d spent two decades building the life I wanted. I didn’t look down. Didn’t cower or hunch my shoulders.

I strode up to my mother with a quiet fury. One I’m sure she recognized.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Georgie?” I asked as soon as I reached them.

My mother actually winced at her given name. But I hadn’t called my parents “Mom” or “Dad” since I was fifteen. I wouldn’t start now.

“We ride on Friday nights down here, you know that,” she said with a sniff. “Certainly didn’t think I’d see my son heading towards those lights over there in a monkey suit. Must be that new rich girl of yours.”

Fire burned up my spine. I knew it. Knew they were keeping tabs on me and Luna. How could they not? She was one of the wealthiest women in the city, for fuck’s sake. A mark.

“How have the past two decades been?” She tried a motherly smile I didn’t buy.

“You need to leave us alone,” I said, voice low.

“And you don’t belong here,” she spat out, dropping the act.

“You don’t know shit, Georgie,” I snapped.

She looked impressed with my temper. “There’s a lot of work for you in the MC, Beck. We can forgive your twenty-year dalliance. Especially if you bring all that money the rich girl’s been giving you.”

“That money’s nonprofit,” I said.

The guys standing around her all smirked. As did she. “Right,” she said, as if we were all in on the joke.

I took a step closer—registered the other members fully taking in my size for the first time. I’d always been tall, but I was carrying fifty pounds more muscle than I had at eighteen.

“If you come near me or Luna ever again, I’ll call the cops and have you all fucking arrested,” I said softly. Dangerously. “Do not threaten my new life, Georgie. You’ll lose.”

Her face looked exactly like it had the day I’d asked her about applying for community college. You really think they’ll let you in?

I was turning on my heel, fists clenched at my sides, when she said one last thing. “You honestly think you fit in this new life?”

I stopped. Hated myself for it.

“You’re a Mason. Which means you’re goddamn motorcycle trash. These new rich people in your life, your new girlfriend included, will never, ever think of you as anything more.”

What had I said to Wes and Jem the other day? Never forget your value. I’d said it because of this moment right here, because holding tight to your value was hard when people who were supposed to love you called you trash.

“And if you think that woman doesn’t secretly feel the same way, you have another thing coming, son.”

I walked the hell away. Because Georgie Mason didn’t deserve a response.

Because this situation didn’t deserve my time.

Because I didn’t want the Miami Devils to see how much my mother’s words affected me.

53

Luna

The event was Miami’s Business Woman of the Year award and it was a glitzy, glamorous affair held at the country club right on Miami Beach. Tables draped with white tablecloths sat on the beach and local elite business folk mingled with piña coladas in their hands. News stations and camera crews were out, covering the event since it boasted some of the