A Leap in the Dark (Assassins of Youth MC Book 2) by Layla Wolfe Page B

chapel.”
    “Well congratulations, Dingo!” I said cheerfully. I meant it, too. This was the best news ever. Six months ago, I had heard, Skippy Cavanaugh had nearly caved in Dingo’s skull with a rifle barrel for stealing nachos or something from behind the bar. He’d been living in the abandoned elementary school, afraid to go to Bountiful where his friends had gone before him. He’d come a long way, all thanks to the protective guidance of the motorcycle club. “Then who’ll be your next Prospect? You need someone to do the grunt work.”
    Deloy started answering. “Oh, they’re going to invite Lev—”
    But Dingo shut him up by stomping forcefully on his tennis shoe. Dingo was only wearing some boating shoes that didn’t exactly scream “biker,” but then that was what I liked about this odd group of men. They didn’t seem to play by the usual rule book. It was a new chapter, the mother chapter being in Bullhead City, so Gideon probably had lots of latitude when choosing who to enlist. But Levon ? He’d make a fine biker, already riding a Harley and all, but…
    Actually, the more I thought on it, the more sense it made. They needed more members and Levon could be a bad-ass, I knew. His dark past before he’d started Liberty Temple was written all over his slick, smooth face. He could be a nasty customer. Casually flipping my hair behind my neck, I stood and said, “Speaking of, I need to pay him a visit.” I didn’t address Deloy’s near-accident, but he gave me a glimmering, in-the-know smile.
    “Oh!” cried Dingo, glued to his screen. “Look at this guy! He’s suspended by ankle cuffs.”
    Deloy pointed at the laptop. “That looks like a double ball steel anal hook,” he said knowledgeably, nodding.
    “You should know,” teased Dingo.
    Dingo’s light speech made me think Deloy hadn’t seen the offensive article yet. I walked the few blocks to Levon’s studio, pausing to look in the front window of Sledgehammer’s enticing butcher shop and grocery. Someone had really made a nice layout with a checkered picnic blanket and jars of jam, olives, and fresh loaves of bread. I realized Deloy had probably done it, since he’d started work there part-time as a checker. Lots of shops on Watchtower Street were still empty after being abandoned twenty-five years ago in a giant exodus of “outsiders” away from Cornucopia. But the MC’s revitalization program had really put a new face on the downtown area. A guy was even at work painting the Elks Lodge.
    And these ruling motherfuckers, these stale old mummies in their clothes of righteousness, wanted to run these guys out of town on a rail? These bikers were the best thing that had ever happened to the town. Real estate was booming, more outsiders were moving in to take advantage of the low housing prices and all the new services. I’d even read in that odious newspaper that they were thinking of reopening the elementary school.
    Levon was up on a tall ladder hammering a bracket or something for an enormous mirror. The interior painting had all been done and everything smelled fresh. New mats had been laid out on the floor, and I didn’t want to step on them in my heeled boots.
    I called out, “Can’t Deloy help you before he starts work at Sledgehammer’s in the morning?” Levon jumped and fumbled with the hammer. I didn’t realize he didn’t see me, and I gasped. “Oh! I’m so sorry!”
    “I’m coming down.”
    He wore nothing but one of those tight wifebeater T-shirts and a pair of completely worn, low-slung jeans. Many implements hanging from his belt had the added advantage of dragging them down a bit, revealing the waistband of his boxers. I had plenty of time to admire the gorgeous slope of his back, the play of his biceps, the taut, almost concave plane of his belly as he descended the ladder.
    I’d been slowly admitting my huge attraction to that man. Giovanni had only texted me once more since I’d hung up on him. I was