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wouldn’t look after them if anything happened to Falcon, so it was up to him and helping the cops was the best way to do it.
     
    Falcon was ready to get to work and he was ready to talk, but he hadn’t heard from Grace. He checked his phone constantly and made sure that it wasn’t on silent, he was ready. He wanted her to call, he wanted to hear her sexy voice, he wanted to see her again, and he wanted to fuck her again.  But he was met with only silence from Grace and he wasn't the kind of guy who got all sappy over a woman, so he got back to work.
     
    But he thought about Grace constantly. He remembered what it was like to kiss her. Being with her had been like some kind of wrestling match. They had pushed and pulled against each other, fighting and fucking at the same time. He had never been with a woman who had been so active and present during sex. Sometimes, when he was with a girl from the club, they would just lie there, or roll their eyes waiting for it to be over. But not Grace, she had wanted it and him; she had come when he was inside of her, crying out in pleasure on top of the table.
     
    He wanted her again. None of the other girls meant anything to him anymore. The groupies at the club were even sadder than they had been before. He no longer felt anything when he was in a room with them. He didn’t want to fuck them; he didn’t even want to touch them. He wanted Grace. He wanted to make her scream and writhe against him. He had moves that would drive her wild and he wanted to show her each and every one. He wanted to make her beg for it.
     
    But she hadn’t called him and he couldn’t call her. It was strange, but other than the occasional fantasy about her, he had almost forgotten about his deal with the police. He had so thoroughly convinced himself of his fake story during his interrogation with the boss he had almost forgotten the truth. Almost ; he knew he was living in denial and he knew that couldn’t last forever.
     
    The life of a biker could be a busy one and after the raid on the processing center the boss had them all working twice as hard to make up for the loss. Falcon woke early that morning and checked up on the meth supplies they had hidden around the city. The police had taken the processing center, but they had other places to work and other stashes set aside. The Screaming Eagles were prolific and had set up shop in empty apartments and abandoned trailers all over this part of town. As part of his job, Falcon drove from point to point making sure everything was working and on time.
     
    He met with their dealers. Men who lived in the bad neighborhoods and slung the meth the Screaming Eagles had made. They had heard about the hit, but they were impressed they were still moving forward. He met with his suppliers and talked about prices, and always he was watched. Either Big Chris or Billy went with him on jobs he used to do alone. It was degrading, but there was nothing Falcon could do about it. It was funny, he was annoyed that they were following him, but they were right to watch him; he had turned against his gang. The thing was, it was easy to pretend otherwise. Falcon didn’t feel any guilt or shame over betrayal of the Screaming Eagles. Grace had been right: he was a foot soldier, nothing more. The Screaming Eagles would have thrown him into a cell themselves if they thought it could bring the boss more money. Falcon was on his own now, he was looking out for himself and Sophie and no one else.
     
    It was eight o’clock on the third night and Falcon had just returned to his apartment. He came home gone straight for the shower, letting the hot water massage his strong arms and firm back. He was toweling off when his phone chimed. The name on the home screen said Princess Bubblegum and Falcon’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the fake name he had used for Grace. Without hesitating he grabbed the phone and answered it quickly.
     
    “This is Falcon,” he