“How you wanna play it?”
“Cool. Don’t want to spook her. She’s a runner.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Just a feeling.” I pull the photograph Slick gave me out of my wallet and stare at the now wrinkled and creased image, but I have every detail memorized. Fuck me her portrait gets prettier every time I look at it. Long, dark hair streaked with highlights I ache to wrap around my fist. Pretty bow shaped smile with a beauty mark on her left cheek I want to kiss. Light brown eyes that remind me of caramel.
Its more than attraction though. Hazel isn’t only the Prez’s niece. “Honey Bee,” I mutter under my breath. My lips spread into a shit eating grin on their accord on instinct.
“All right. We’ll play it your way, man. You do know that staring at her pic won’t make her materialize in front of you, right?”
“Fuck off.” I suck in a hard drag off my cigarette.
Viking grins at me flashing his pearly whites. “Prez’ll cut your balls off and hang’em in his office.”
I exhale a ring of smoke. “It’s not like that.”
“Sure it’s not.” He punches me in the arm. “Your secret is safe with me, bro. You’ve stared at that damn picture of her every stop since we left Charleston. Bet you stroke one out to it every night after your milk and cookies. What happens on the road stays on the road. You want to get in there I won’t stand in your way is all I’m saying.”
“Right. Like your pansy ass will do anything. Surprised you aren’t back at the room jerking off to thoughts of what’s her name?” I shove the picture back in my wallet.
“The fuck you talking about?”
“Wylla Mae’s friend. The one with the nice rack.”
Viking’s expression hardens. “I don’t know who that is.”
He knows exactly who I’m talking about. The bitch he’s been pinning over. He thinks no one has noticed, but everyone knows he wants in there. I lick my lips and snuff my cigarette out with my boot. “Cool. So, you won’t mind when I take her out on the back of my bike.”
He rolls his eyes and the muscle in his jaw ticks. “Shut up.”
“Think she likes it rough and kinky? Ass slapping? Hair pulling? Neck biting? Whips and chains? Handcuffs?” I cock a brow and smirk.
“I’m warning you. Don’t go there.” He rolls his neck, the thick veins in his arms pop out. Shit. He’s tore up at the thought of it.
“Thought you didn’t care about Andi. She turned you down, didn’t she?” I press my luck and wonder if he’s about to knock me on my ass.
“I didn’t ask her out.”
“Shit.” I’m thrown off by the seriousness of his tone. “Why not?”
“I’m not talking about this right now. We got bigger things to worry about.”
He’s right. We do. I slap him on the back. “Let’s get a beer and see some titties.”
“Now you’re speaking my language.”
I let him off the hook for now, but I’m not the club’s chaplain for nothing. I care about my brothers. They’re all I got. Only family I’ve ever had. Besides my little Honey Bee. I shake my head as another smile crosses my face. Hadn’t thought about the brat in years. Not since I was released from juvie. Looked for her for months but nothing came of it. I was a kid without resources. Hell, I didn’t even know her last name. Doubt she would’ve remembered me if I had found her. At least that’s the lie I tell myself to keep the guilt from eating at me.
We were just two lost kids looking to belong to somewhere but all we had was each other. Only now I’m about to be face to face with her for the first time since we were kids. I’m nervous. Anxious even. I don’t get nervous. I’m a fucking Royal Bastard, but my stomach churns and my palms slicken with sweat.
From what Slick shared with me Hazel isn’t living that beautiful life I envisioned for her when I set fire to that house with that old cunt in it.
I follow Viking into the strip joint. The glow of blue neon illuminates the entrance. We pay the cover charge and hit the bar for that much needed overpriced beer.
We may be early, but the place is already crawling with bitches eager for the Benjamins. Lucky for them I’ve got a wad of cash on Murder’s dime. I’ve got my orders. Find Prez’s niece and bring her home. No matter what.
His sister gave a kid up for adoption or some shit, been searching for her for years. Finally got a solid hit on her after chasing down her ghost for months so here we are. What I never anticipated is that Prez’s niece and my Honey Bee would be the same person. Haven’t shared that information with a soul. I’m still processing it myself.
I’d given up on ever seeing her again, and now I don’t know what the fuck to do about all these old feelings clawing their way to the surface. Curiosity being the biggest. Is she happy? Will she remember me? Will she feel the same as she once did? Will our connection be as strong as it once was? Is she with someone?
I sound like a pussy. Might as well start a circle jerk where my brothers and I meet once a week to talk about our emotions instead of club business.
I know I need to push these thoughts away to focus on what we came here to do. Find Hazel and get her back to West Virginia to reunite with her mother.
It’s important to Prez and its my obsession for a host of other reasons.
I take a swig of my beer and scan the room for her. Club is about what you’d expect for any run of the mill titty bar. Dim club with flashes of neon lights giving a glow around the stage. Scantily clad women of all sizes and shapes. A real pussy smorgasbord. Fake tits. Real tits. Big asses. Flat asses. Whatever a man fancies for the night they got it. Hell, I think I even saw a sign for a midget. Music City’s tiniest dancer or some shit.
Know one of these cunts will turn on her for the right price. Once we flash some money the greedy ones will provide whatever information I want. Everyone has a price. Money always talks and bullshit walks. Had a few scammers try to feed me shit for some spare change in the last town, but I have a good inkling that for once my luck is changing.
Viking moves off to a booth to do his own re-con which I suspect has more to do with working Andi out of his system than helping me with Hazel. We all have our own demons. I turn to the bartender who looks like she should be on a street corner instead of slinging drinks her makeup is so god damn thick and intense. “Keep the beers coming for my friend and myself.”
“You got it, handsome.” She winks a heavy false eyelash at me. Thing is so damn big it looks like a butterfly wing. I start to ask her how she sees with all that shit impairing her vision, but I don’t think insulting her will get me any answers.
I slide some bills on to the bar along with Hazel’s picture. “Look familiar.”
The woman glances at the picture. “You a cop?”
“Do I look like a pig?”
She gives me a once over and smiles once she sees the money. “You planning to hurt her?”
“Far from it. Her family is looking to reconnect.”
“Not everyone wants to be found.”
“You gonna deny her mother her dying wish,” I lie.
Her face softens. “Shit. You for real?”
“Wouldn’t lie about something so damn tragic.”
“You should talk to Crystal.” She nods toward the stage.
“Much obliged. Keep half for yourself. Cash me out some ones too.” I pull some extra bills out of my wallet then I tuck the photo back in with the ones she hands me. I shove off and plant myself closer to the stage. Crystal is a dark-skinned beauty with a booty that tells me when God made her, he was feeling like an ass man. Her chest is flat but damn that ass. Could balance a steak dinner on that fine thing.
I smirk when I catch her eye. I toss some bills her way. Reeling her in slowly. Viking comes up on my left. The way her mouth parts and her eyes flutter at the sight of him I know what play I gotta make here.
“That our mark?”
“According to the bartender.”
“You making co
ntact or want me to handle it?”
“All you.” I slap money in his palm.
**
The big booty bitch also known as Crystal jiggles her thick peach shaped ass in Viking’s face.
“You got a friend for my boy here?” He slaps a palm to a cheek earning him a glare from security.
“Maybe.” She grins over her shoulder. “We talking a private party or what?”
“Our motel room private enough?”
“That can be arranged for the right price. What’s his type?”
“Buddy of mine hooked up with a gorgeous girl a while back said she works here.”
“What’s her name?”
“No name but said she has a beauty mark.”
Viking tucks a twenty in her G-string.
“You must mean Honey.” She pops her booty and grinds over his crotch.
My heart thumps wildly. My Honey Bee. But fuck if she doesn’t have a shitty friend. Selling my girl out cheap. Didn’t even bat an eye. Gave her up at the snap of a finger.
“Yeah, sounds like the one,” I tell her.
“My girl is wild. Likes to party.”
“Good.” A tight lump forms in my throat. My girl is wild. Likes to party.
The memory of the last time I saw her flashes in my head. A single tear rolling down her cheek. My promise I’d come back for her. The cool metal of the handcuffs slapping on my wrists. The taste of her tear-stained kiss mingled with ashes on my tongue. The terrible scent of rotting wood burning branded in my nostrils. Flames dancing in my vision. Hazel’s palm on the glass before the police cruiser pulled away from the curb. The gut-wrenching sob that tore out of her one last time on my name.
I set a fire that changed the course of our lives forever. I killed Mrs. Winnie, but they could never prove it, and at eighteen I was released. The arson I committed sealed with my record.
Hazel was long gone. I questioned the neighbors, but if they had any answers, they weren’t giving them to me. My former case worker had retired and moved away. My Honey Bee was lost to me.
Until now.
The face of an angel and soul of a devil. Her memory became my Heaven and Hell. I had to let ghosts of the past go. I thought I’d moved on. Being here, so close to her I can almost taste her tears on my lips, I know that I never let go. Only buried the pain of losing the one person to give a damn about me before I met the club and found my true place in the world.
“You good?” Viking studies my face.
“Yeah. Fine.”
“It’s almost show time. Bitch with the big ass went to see if Hazel is on the floor tonight.”
I finish my beer and my empty is taken away and replaced by some skinny bitch with fake tits so big I’m afraid she’ll topple over.
I take a swig of my beer and the energy around me changes.
I can’t explain the physical shift that takes hold of me, but I know the second she enters the room. Awareness of her crackles through my veins like electricity.
Chapter Three
“Hey, girl, hey,” Crystal shouts at me before sticking her tongue out as I drop my bag on the counter at my station.
“Hey yourself. How’s it been so far?”
“Little slow, but there’s two biker hotties out there dropping lots of cake. We could make a nice payday. They are fishing for a little something, something. Know what I’m saying?” She flips her sleek dark hair over her shoulder. “You know we make a good team.”
“Bikers?” I scrunch my nose thinking of the fat smelly bastards that were through here a few weeks back. They were terrible tippers, grabby, and rude. I unzip my bag and pull out my heels.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Crystal dabs a sponge across the bridge of her nose. “But trust.” She thrusts a palm outward in my direction flashing the tips of her neon green nails at me. “I said hot. I know hot. These men are sexy, and they got the paper. I need a good payday. Bruno’s been breathing down my neck.”
At the mention of Bruno is when I see the dark shading under her right eye. The dickhead is always broke.
“You’ve gotta cut loose of him. He’s a user and he hits you.” I know I shouldn’t say anything. It’s not like she will ever listen.
“He’s Dayvon’s daddy. Been with him since I was thirteen. I love him. And yeah, I know he’s a leech but he’s what I got. Period. So, we gonna nail these bikers tonight or what?” She adjusts her boobs in her red sequined bikini style top.
Bruno is a shitbag who knocked her up at fifteen. Who also doesn’t have a job and takes her car all the damn time to do who knows what while Crystal foots the damn bill.
Men like him are why I’m single. Men like my ex-boyfriend, Jackson. Men who think they can play women for a fool. He was nothing but red flags. Caught him in so many lies. He lied about his truck. The fact that he lived with his momma still. I didn’t need to be impressed. I wanted honesty. He only gave it to me because I caught him, but if he would lie about simple shit then what else was he going to lie about? I couldn’t deal with that. Had to cut him loose. Cute or not.
I unzip my hoodie and kick off my sneakers before I shimmy out of my leggings. I could use the extra money. I live on my own and rent here isn’t cheap. Some of the other girls live together to pool resources. I could get a roommate, but I prefer to be on my own. Less drama.
Lord knows there’s plenty of it to go around. I work with some catty bitches.
I dust my shoulders with some body glitter. I toss my shit back in my bag and secure it in my locker. Layla is working tonight, and we all know the whore has sticky fingers. “Let’s go make it rain.” I smirk and slip into my heels, securing the straps around my ankles.
I follow Crystal out to work these bikers and get them into the champagne room. Everyone will tell you there is no sex allowed. It’s the golden rule but on occasion Dirty Tony is known to break rules for personal favors outside the club. Sometimes he hooks us up with side parties and runs security for us behind Lefty’s back. He ever found out how much money was exchanging hands behind his back he’d kill us all. He tries to run a tight ship. Noses clean. No drama. No spouses or lovers allowed while you’re on the floor or the pole.
All it is, is a fight waiting to happen.
I stop off at the bar and get my courtesy shot of liquid courage to loosen me up before I hit the stage for my first set. I bring the glass to my lips and tip it back fast, following with a lemon. My lips pucker every damn time. My skin crackles in awareness. I glance around the dark room searching for the source of the weird vibe I’m getting. Call it self-preservation or intuition. I learned at a young age to always trust my instincts because you can never trust other people.
There’s something to be said about the atmosphere of a gentleman’s club. Dim lights. Hot bodies. Fat wallets. Liquor flowing. Music pulsing through the speakers. Blood pumping fast. Money hungry women desperate for attention and lonely men eager to give both.
I spot a few regulars, but Crystal was right. I clock two biker hotties. Daylight and dark. By that I mean the first guy is tall and broad with light hair. Not my type but hot, nonetheless. The other guy is what I call tall, dark, and deadly. Me-fucking-ow. His gaze meets mine and a shiver courses up and down my spine. The hair on the back of my neck spikes.
The urge to down a second shot hits me. I turn back to the bar. “I need another,” I tell Jazz. She’s on bar duty tonight. She must still be on Lefty’s shit list for getting a little too touchy with a few customers last week.
“You know the rules.” She smirks while pouring me a double.
“You’re a gem.” I knock it back then look back to where the biker hotties were to find them gone. Weird.
No matter. I got an ass to shake and money to make. I see Crystal leading the biker with blond hair and tribal tats to one of the private rooms. Guess that means his friend is all mine.
“Another shot for the beautiful lady,” a voice grates in my ear smoother than butter.
I suck in a breath
and straighten my shoulders. “Thank you.” I meet the gaze of the dark-haired biker. He smiles and my insides go all warm and lusty. He has a great smile. One that seems familiar. “Have we met before?”
“Maybe in my dreams or a past life,” he tells me.
Every cell in my body is aware of him in ways I can’t explain. There’s something about him. Surely, I’d remember him if we’ve met. His hand brushes against my hip and one simple touch sets me on fire. My nipples tingle with anticipation of more.
Jazz places a shot on the bar.
“Bottoms up,” I whisper, wrapping my fingers around the base of the glass filled with what is likely water. Lefty likes us fun but not drunk. I knock it back. My lips pucker as the liquid coats the back of my throat and burns in the pit of my stomach.
“Suck,” the word leaves his lips like a command as he presses a lemon wedge to mine. It’s hard to make out the color of his eyes due to the poor lighting in here.
What is it about this sexy stranger that has me wanting to drop to my knees to suck something else entirely? Our fingers graze and I close my eyes at his touch. The sounds of the club fade away. The music. The men. Everything but his thumb brushing lemon juice from my chin before licking it off the pad. Thoughts of him touching me everywhere and him kissing me consume me until his hand drops and the spell he pulled me under breaks. I put the lemon in my empty shot glass.
“Good girl.” Two words nearly undo me and have me throwing myself at him.
What can I say? I have daddy issues.
“Honey, you’re on,” Jazz says, and I can only nod.
I’m afraid if I open my mouth to speak, I’m going to say something embarrassing like push me against the wall and kiss me stupid or fuck me even.
Crazy stupid is what I am.
I don’t know this man, but I’m drawn to him. Like magnets. I crave him. Like I said, he’s tall with dark, silky hair that keeps falling into his eyes.
Taken By The Biker (Royal Bastards MC: Charleston, WV, #6) Page 2