Not His Old Lady Anymore

Fiona POV:

My fingertips traced the neat columns of figures in the ledger. Outside, the familiar roar of a Harley engine grew louder, cutting through the afternoon quiet.

It was a specific sound, a deep, gravelly rumble I knew better than my own heartbeat.

Beast. Craig's bike. He was back.

I closed the ledger, my heart giving a few hard, unwelcome thumps against my ribs. He'd been on this run for nearly two months, far longer than usual.

I stood, smoothing the fabric of my dress out of habit. I walked out of my office. It was my duty as his Old Lady to greet him in front of the brothers, a display of my position.

The front yard of the Clubhouse was already dotted with Prospects and hang-arounds, their eyes fixed on the cloud of dust kicked up by the approaching bikes.

My gaze locked onto the lead bike, a massive black Harley, and the broad back of the man wearing the iconic Serpents of Redemption cut. Craig. The President of the Serpents of Redemption. My husband.

Then my steps faltered.

There was someone on the back of his bike. A woman.

Craig brought the bike to a halt, then turned with a fluid motion, offering a hand to help her down. The gesture was steady, patient in a way I hadn't seen from him in a long time.

The woman's fiery red hair was a torch in the California sun. She wore plain clothes that didn't belong here, and she clung to Craig's arm like it was a lifeline.

A small boy, maybe seven or eight, slid off the side of the bike and hid behind her legs.

The blood in my veins turned to ice. The whispers from the brothers nearby were like a thousand tiny needles against my skin.

Craig finally saw me. The smile on his face froze for a second before he started walking toward me, deliberately ignoring the woman.

"Fiona," he said, his voice a little rough. "Road was bad. Got back late."

I didn't answer him. My eyes went past him, settling on her.

The woman met my gaze. The corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk so faint I almost thought I'd imagined it. Then, just as quickly, it was replaced by a look of pure, helpless fear.

I understood instantly. This wasn't an accident. It was a challenge.

Craig followed my gaze and frowned, pulling me a few steps to the side. He lowered his voice. "Her name is Ginger. She ran into some trouble on the road. I helped her out. She and her son, Cody, have nowhere to go."

"Helped her out?" I repeated the words, my voice so cold it didn't sound like my own. "Helped her out all the way back to the Clubhouse?"

"Fiona, don't be like that," he said, a sharp edge of impatience in his tone. "In front of all the brothers, give me some face."

His words were a slap. I was his Old Lady, and he was asking me to give him face for a sweetbutt he'd picked up on the road.

I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat. When I looked at him again, my face was calm. "Your guests, of course, must be welcomed."

I turned to the gawking Prospects. "What are you staring at? Don't you see we have guests? Go get them something to drink."

My composure seemed to relax him. He thought it was over.

Ginger approached slowly with her son. Cody glared at me with open hostility.

She gave me a fragile smile. "Hi, I'm Ginger Burke. Craig saved us on the road. He's such a good man." She emphasized the words "saved us."

I looked at her and smiled back, a smile with no warmth in it at all. "I'm Fiona Brennan. Craig's Old Lady."

The words 'Old Lady' made her smile stiffen.

Craig cleared his throat, trying to break the tension. "Alright, it was a long ride, everyone's tired. Fiona, why don't you go..."

I cut him off before he could finish. "Ricky!" I called to a young hang-around.

Ricky Foster jogged over immediately. "Fiona, what do you need?"

"Take Ms. Burke and her child to the guest quarters. Find an empty room and get them settled." I made sure to stress "guest quarters"-the area for temporary visitors, separate from where patched members and their families lived.

Craig's face darkened instantly. "Fiona, I said..."

He was about to object, but I spoke first, my voice low but sharp enough to stop him.

"Craig," I said, looking him straight in the eye. "The club has rules."

Without another look at him, I turned and walked back into the Clubhouse, leaving him and his 'prize' behind me.

I could feel his furious gaze burning into my back, but I didn't turn around.

Fiona POV:

I walked quickly down the cool hallway, the sound of my heels clicking on the concrete like a frantic heartbeat.

Heavy footsteps followed, and then Craig's hand clamped around my wrist. His grip was tight enough to bruise.

I was forced to stop and face him. His face was a mask of fury, his light brown eyes burning. "Fiona, what the hell was that?"

"What do you think it was?" I tried to pull my arm free, but his grip was like steel.

"The guest quarters? That place is for outsiders!" he snarled, keeping his voice low, clearly worried about the brothers outside.

"Isn't she an outsider?" I shot back coldly. "A sweetbutt with no patch, and you want her in the main residence? On the same hall as your Old Lady?"

The word 'patch' was everything in our world. It separated us from them.

"She's different!" Craig's voice rose. "She and Cody saved my life on the road! They're homeless because of me! I promised Cletus I'd take care of them!"

Cletus Burke. I'd heard the name. A homesteader who had, in fact, saved a wounded Craig during a clash with a rival club, The Vipers.

"So, to repay a man's kindness, you bring his daughter-or whatever she is to you-home to live with me?"My voice dripped with sarcasm.

"I'm not asking her to live with you!" he snapped, finally letting go of my wrist to rake a hand through his short blond hair. "I just want to give them a safe place! A decent place!"

"And the guest quarters aren't safe or decent? They have private bathrooms and daily cleaning. It's better than what some of the brothers have."

"It's not the same!" he insisted stubbornly. "I want her in the empty room on the third floor."

My heart stopped. The room on the third floor. The one directly across the hall from our bedroom.

This wasn't a challenge anymore. It was a declaration of war.

I looked at him and almost laughed. I managed all the club's businesses, the clean and the dirty, for him. And this was my reward. He was moving another woman and her child in across the hall.

"No," I said, the word clear and final.

Craig's expression turned dangerous. "Fiona, don't push me."

"Am I pushing you, or are you pushing me?" I stepped closer, meeting his gaze. "Craig Griffin, don't forget that I am your Old Lady, recognized by the Serpents of Redemption. What you're doing is a slap in my face, and a slap in the face of this club."

I used the club's name, knowing it was the one thing he cared about most.

His anger wavered for a second, but he didn't back down. "This is my decision. I'm the President of this club I have the right to assign a room in this Clubhouse."

"But you don't have the right to put a sweetbutt in the main residence. That's an unwritten rule, and you know it."

We were at a stalemate, the air thick with tension.

Just then, footsteps echoed from the end of the hall. It was Ricky. He saw us and froze, looking awkward.

"Fiona... Craig..." he stammered. "Ms. Burke is... she's asking if her room is ready."

The question was a spark in a room full of gasoline.

Craig didn't look at me. He spoke directly to Ricky. "Go clean out the corner room on the third floor. For Ginger and Cody."

Ricky stared, his eyes flicking to me for help.

A sheet of ice formed around my heart. In front of an underling, Craig had just completely dismantled my authority, my word.

I didn't look at Ricky. I didn't argue with Craig anymore.

I just looked at him calmly and nodded. "Fine. Have it your way."

My surrender surprised him. He hadn't expected me to give up so easily.

I turned and walked back toward my office.

"Fiona, where are you going?" he asked, his voice suddenly uncertain.

I didn't turn around. I just kept walking.

"If you're so capable," I said over my shoulder, "then I'm sure you don't need me handling the club's finances anymore."

Fiona POV:

I returned to my office and began stacking the ledgers, contracts, and bank statements on my desk.

These papers represented three years of my life's work. I had taken the club's legitimate businesses-a failing auto shop, a tattoo parlor-and made them profitable, giving the Serpents a respectable source of income.

The door flew open and Craig stormed in. He slammed his hand down on the stack of files. "What did you just say?"

"Exactly what it sounded like," I said, looking up to meet his furious gaze. "I'm handing all of this over."

"Handing it over? To who? Fiona, stop this childish game!" He clearly thought I was just throwing a tantrum.

"To whoever is capable of managing it." I pulled my hand from under his. "Perhaps your Ginger can give it a try. After all, she faced death with you. She must be more trustworthy than a woman who just sits in the back counting money."

"This has nothing to do with Ginger!" he roared. "Why do you have to drag her into this? She's just a poor woman who needs help!"

"A poor woman?" I let out a short, bitter laugh. "Craig, do you really think I can't see it? The way she looks at me is full of triumph and hostility."

For a split second, his expression faltered, but he quickly defended her. "That's because she's scared! She's in a strange place, facing a powerful Old Lady like you. Of course she's nervous!"

Powerful. I closed my eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. Three years of dedication to him, to this club, and all he saw was 'powerful.'

He saw my silence and softened his tone. "Fiona, listen to me. In the Arizona desert, I was ambushed by the Vipers. My bike was wrecked, and I was shot. Cletus saved me. I spent a month recovering at his home. Ginger and Cody took care of me."

He continued, his voice low with a genuine sadness. "Then the Vipers came looking for me. Cletus was killed trying to help me escape. Before he died, he made me promise to take care of his only daughter and his grandson."

"I swore I'd give them a good life, that I'd protect them from anyone who tried to hurt them." He looked at me, his eyes pleading. "Fiona, I owe them my life. I can't go back on my word."

It was a noble story, full of a biker's honor and promises. But I was the one expected to pay the price for his code.

"So your protection means bringing her into another war? Letting her challenge my position?" I asked.

"No!" he argued, agitated. "I just want to give her a standing, a status so she can belong here!"

"What kind of status?" I pressed.

Craig hesitated, avoiding my eyes. He mumbled, "A... a respected status. I want the brothers to respect her, just like they respect you."

I understood. I finally, completely understood. He wanted Ginger to have the same status as me.

In this club, a patched member could only have one Old Lady. He wanted two. It was a blatant violation of club tradition and the ultimate insult to me.

I started to laugh. Not a cold laugh, or a mocking one, but a genuine, absurd laugh.

My laughter made Craig uneasy. "Fiona, what are you laughing at?"

"I'm laughing at your naivety, Craig." I stopped, looking at him. "I'm laughing because you think you can have it all-loyal brothers, a dutiful wife, and the 'true love' you picked up on the side of the road."

"She's not-" he started to argue.

"It doesn't matter what she is," I cut him off. "What matters is that I will never accept your idea."

I shoved the stack of files hard into his chest. "Take them. From this day on, the finances of the Serpents of Redemption have nothing to do with Fiona Brennan."

The files hit him and scattered, fluttering to the floor like dead leaves. Ledgers, contracts, all of it.

Craig stared at the papers on the ground, then back at me in disbelief, as if seeing me for the first time.

"You're serious?" His voice held a trace of panic.

I didn't answer. I just walked around him, heading for the door.

I needed fresh air, away from this suffocating room and this man who had just killed the last bit of hope in my heart.

At the doorway, I paused without turning back.

"Craig," I said. "You can't have it both ways. You chose your 'honor.' Now you have to live with the consequences."

I pulled the door open and walked out.

The door closed behind me, shutting him in and shutting me out, severing the last possibility between us.