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her into something like this?” Hoss held up his hand. “Not that I’m questioning Mason. But why DeeDee?”
    “Something to do with Mica, no doubt.” Bingo shrugged. “Why you askin’ , brother?”
    “Did you send her to Tug?” Bingo shook his head and Hoss nodded. “Okay then. Do you know if he’s makin’ a play?”
    “Doubtful,” Bingo laughed. “He’s hoping she gets busy with that hockey guy she flirted with last time she was in Chicago. Said if he got a chance, he was going to spin her Spencer’s way.”
    “What the fuck?” Hoss growled. “Jase Spencer? You want a citizen for Winger’s old lady?”
    “She ain’t Winger’s old lady anymore.” He shrugged. “I want her happy. She’s holding so tight onto what was that she ain’t looking for what could be. Woman’s fucking mired in the past, and we ain’t done her any favors by keeping her close.”
    “Keeping her close helps keep her safe, brother.” Hoss settled back into the chair. “And what could be is sitting right here in the fucking room. You and Tug both know I’ve been biding my time, letting her grieve and move past all that shit. I want her in my bed…want to keep her in the club. Hell, I’ve made a study of DeeDee; I can tell you anything you want to know about that woman.”
    “Anything except what she wants for herself, I wager.” Bingo leaned back, propping his heels on the edge of the desk. “If you know that, then you know more than she does.”
    “I know what I want—”
    Bingo interrupted him, “You want to fuck her. She needs more than that. She needs to be someone’s sweetheart, needs a real bed in a real house, and needs someone who can accept Melanie as she is. What she doesn’t need is a brother as mired in the past as she is, making a play because he’s tired of being alone.”
    “Fuck you,” Hoss said, folding his arms across his chest. “It isn’t like that, Bingo.”
    “Tell me what it is, then. Because from where I sit, having someone like Jase Spencer sweep in and cover her shit is a good thing.” Bingo frowned at him. “She needs someone who’ll focus on her, someone who sees her sweet for what it is, not what it could be for the club.”
    “So you’d be okay letting her go?” Hoss was confused. He had come in here expecting to get a green light, and now it sounded like Bingo would back the citizen’s play before his.
    “If it’s what is best for her, hell yeah, I’m okay with that. I want to see her back to herself. Want to see her looking with bright eyes towards the future. I want to write love poems about her life, and I want that life to be amazing. I loved Winger like a brother, independent of the club. How can I want anything less for his widow?” Bingo stood and stretched. “You think about what you want, and why, man. Ride beside her, keep an eye on her, and keep her covered. But while you do that, you consider what’s best for her.”
    ***
    At the storage yard, Tug waited astraddle of his bike while she pushed Winger’s out of the bay, gliding it to a stop and putting down the kickstand. Walking back, she tugged hard on the overhead door, struggling to close and lock it. She turned to get on the bike and saw Tug looking at her with an odd expression on his face.
    “What?” she asked, swinging her leg over the seat, tiptoeing up towards the tank to where she had enough leverage to balance the big bike. Sitting for a minute while she pulled on her helmet, he shrugged and silently made a motion for her to precede him out of the lot.
    At the garage, she idled the bike into an empty service bay, heeling the kickstand down and settling it before she dismounted. She was taking off her helmet when she heard a sharp whistle and turned to see several men walking towards Tug as he sauntered in from outside where he parked. “Check out Winger’s bike, change the oil, and make sure everything’s right for a Chicago run. Mine’s outside; key is in it. Just top it off, check it