Bronze (Blackwings MC - Devil Springs Book 5)

by Teagan Brooks

  I gestured for her to have a seat, snorting when she sat as close to the edge of the seat as possible. “That’s not going to save you. It doesn’t matter if you sit right beside me or stand across the room; if I want you, I’ll get you.”

  3

  A delicious shiver ran down my spine, and I struggled to keep my eyes from flicking up to his to see the sexy smirk I knew he was wearing. I needed to know about his club before I went further down the rabbit hole with him.

  Trying to seem clueless, I focused on the patches on the front of his leather vest and asked, “Is your club like the one on that TV show?”

  He grinned and leaned forward, bracing himself on his elbows. “Why? You want me to take you for a ride?” he asked suggestively.

  “Bronze! Please work on your timing,” Layla said desperately.

  Extending her hand to me, she smiled, “Hi, I’m Layla, Bronze’s sister-in-law.”

  “Also known as Queen Cock Blocker.”

  “That’s not what your brother said,” she retorted.

  “Hi. I’m Sloane, Bronze’s hostage for the evening.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, that’s great. Do you two need anything else?”

  Bronze winked. “Bring her a couple more BWOLs, and I’ll have my usual.”

  When she disappeared, I turned back to him and reminded him of my question. “So, about your club?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “What about it?”

  “I don’t know anything about biker gangs,” I lied and cringed at the term. I knew all motorcycle clubs weren’t outlaws, just like all wealthy Irish businessmen weren’t part of the mob. What I didn’t know was if his club had any enemies, particularly Irish ones.

  He shook his head. His devilish grin made me squirm in my seat. “We’re a club, not a gang,” he corrected, not surprising me in the least. I knew it was a touchy subject for members of that lifestyle.

  “Okay,” I said, pretending to be blissfully unaware of my faux pas. “Will you tell me about your club?”

  He sat back in the corner and draped his porn-worthy arms along the back of the booth. “We’re not outlaws, Sweet Sloane, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Oh, of course not,” I said and waved my hand dismissively. “I was asking what kinds of things a motorcycle club does? Do you just ride around on your bikes together on the weekends?” Admittedly, I was genuinely interested in hearing his answer.

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Oh shit. I haven’t heard that one before.”

  “So that’s a no?”

  “That’s a no. We’re a club, but we operate as a business,” he explained. “A business that owns and runs a group of businesses.”

  “So, like a corporation or an enterprise?”

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  I reached for a glass of water and, after digging through my purse, dropped a metal straw into it, taking a large gulp of ice-cold water. “Mmm,” I groaned, not realizing how thirsty I was.

  “That’s kind of wicked,” he mumbled and shifted in his seat.

  I winked. “I know.”

  “Wait,” he said and held up his hand. Pointing to my glass, he asked, “What is that?”

  “This?” I asked and touched my straw. At his nod, I explained, “A metal straw.” When he stared at me blankly, I continued, “You know, to reduce the amount of plastic ones that end up in the ocean killing important marine life.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to just drink from the cup?” he asked.

  “I prefer to wrap my lips around the tip and suck,” I said in an overly seductive tone.

  “I’d love to see that,” he breathed.

  Leaning forward, I closed my lips around the straw and slowly sipped my drink. “There. You’re welcome.”

  He grinned again. Damn, the man was positively sinful. Sparkling blue eyes, dark blonde hair, muscles, tattoos, leather, and a few visible piercings. He ticked off every one of the boxes on my list, including a neatly trimmed beard.

  “Bronze!” Layla shouted from behind the bar where a large group of people had gathered.

  “Fuck,” he cursed. “She needs my help. I’ll be back after we take care of that crowd. Enjoy your drinks while I’m gone,” he said and scooted two BWOLs I hadn’t noticed toward me.

  I shook my head. “I’m not drinking any more on an empty stomach,” I said vehemently. “I learned that lesson long before my twenty-first birthday.”

  “Good thing this is a bar and grill,” he grinned and stopped the waitress passing by.

  “Hey, Bronze,” she cooed and batted her eyelashes at him. “Do you need something?”

  “Yeah, Table Seventeen needs a Triple Threat and bring two more BWOLs when it comes out.”

  “Got it. Should be about ten minutes,” she said and almost skipped away.

  He directed his attention back to me. “I shouldn’t be long.”

  Damn it. I was just gearing up to ask him if Heidi was working. While he was gone, I made the best of it and used the time to scan the area looking for Heidi or Paige. Based on the pictures I’d seen, wherever one was, the other was there too. Unfortunately, I didn’t see either one of them anywhere in Precious Metals.

  Surprisingly, he returned to the booth moments before the young waitress returned with the order he placed.

  “Is she even old enough to work here?” I asked, unsure of why her presence irritated me. Regardless, I failed to hide my annoyance, and Bronze picked up on it.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, she is.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Do I even want to know why you know her age?”

  “Because I’m one of the owners of this bar.”

  “Oh,” I said, genuinely surprised and popped a piece of fried goodness into my mouth, groaning obscenely when I bit into it. For a split second. Then, the scalding hot cheese made contact with my tongue. “Ah! Hahhht!” I shouted as I spit the wad of steaming goo into a napkin. Then, I promptly downed both BWOLs and half of my glass of water, trying to cool the burn and save my tongue.

  “You okay?” he laughed.

  “That shit is hot!” I stated unnecessarily.

  “At least it wasn’t one of the wings. Those were tossed in Judge’s special hot sauce.”

  “Why’s it special?” I asked between sips of water.

  “He makes it with Carolina Reapers.”

  “Holy shit,” I breathed. “Is it even legal to serve sauce that hot in a restaurant?”

  He chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve had a run-in with a Reaper before.”

  “You could say that,” I murmured.

  “Don’t leave me hanging, Sweet Sloane.”

  I sighed. “One of my brothers is a die-hard hot sauce fan. The hotter, the better. So a few years ago when we all still lived at home, he bought a new sauce and put it in the fridge. As it turned out, the packaging was very similar to the packaging on the ketchup we used, and I was the one who made that discovery after mixing up the two. I swear, I thought I was going to die. For real, it felt like it was burning a hole through my stomach. And I only had one little bite.”

  “Did you try milk?”

  I scoffed. “Did I try milk? Let me tell you something. Milk is great for jalapeños, but drinking milk after eating a Carolina Reaper is like dropping an ice cube into a pot of boiling water to cool it.”

  “Huh? Is that right?” he asked as he stabbed a boneless wing with his fork and nonchalantly popped it into his mouth. “Doesn’t seem to bother me.”

  I leaned forward on my elbows and loudly whispered, “If your fingers touch that sauce, they won’t touch me. Just putting that out there.”

  “Sydney!” he bellowed. “Bring us an order of loaded fries. We’re finished with this,” he said and pointed to the platter of food like it was going to jump up and attack him.

  I couldn’t control it and cracked up laughing. “Got big plans tonight?”

  Before he could answer, twelve-
year-old Sydney promptly cleared our table and returned to silently drop off more drinks.

  “So, you said you were one of the owners of this bar?” I asked when she was gone, hoping to lead into a conversation about Heidi and Paige.

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “Why? You want to barter for free drinks?” he asked and waggled his brows.

  I laughed and struggled to stay focused on the task at hand. I don’t know if it was the alcohol or his undeniable charm, but I was getting lost in him far too easily. “No,” I said and chewed on my lower lip. “I wanted to ask—”

  “Here you go,” Baby Sydney interrupted and placed a plate of loaded fries between us, followed by more drinks. “Anything else?”

  “I think we’re good for now, Syd. Thanks,” he said while I sang happy songs in my head so I wouldn’t wrinkle my nose in disgust at the way he called her Syd. Or maybe it was so I wouldn’t scream at her for her shitty timing as I was once again interrupted right before asking about Heidi.

  I reached for a fry and busied myself with eating while I tried to figure out how to bring the conversation back to him being the owner. Then, I could then ask about Heidi’s employment. And then an idea hit me. But first, I glanced around to see if any waitresses were on their way over to stop me.

  “Do you have to fill in behind the bar often?”

  He shrugged. “Only when we’re short-staffed. We lost one of our best waitresses and bartenders a few months ago and haven't been able to find a replacement even close to her.” He snorted. “We even tried hiring two girls at once, and they still couldn’t keep up like she did.”

  “That sucks. Why’d she leave?” I asked and continued to stuff my face with food.

  When I glanced up to see him staring into his drink, I knew I’d inadvertently brought up a sensitive subject. So, I did what I do best in those situations and called myself out for being rude or nosy to segue into a new topic.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted and slapped my hand over my chest. “Don’t answer that. I’m a curious soul and tend to ask questions that are none of my business,” I laughed. “As you can imagine, I embarrassed my mother on more than one occasion when I was little.”

  His eyes flicked up, and I could see the interest on his face. So, for the sake of possibly banging the biker, I shared a hilarious story from my past. “One particular time, our next-door neighbor came over for her weekly coffee date with Mom. I was around five years old, so I was playing nearby while they were in the kitchen talking. I overheard Rebecca tell my mom that she caught her husband sleeping with another woman. Naturally, my mom asked who he was sleeping with. Before Rebecca could answer, my five-year-old self couldn’t wait to ask my own question. ‘You can get caught cheating while sleeping?’ ‘No, sweetie,’ my mom answered, completely dismissing me. But I needed to know. Mainly because I didn’t want to get in trouble for something I didn’t know was possible. So, I continued. ‘My teacher said people sometimes lie and cheat to win. Maybe she’s a better sleeper than you are, and he wanted to win.’” I barely managed to get it out before I started hysterically laughing like I did each time I told that story.

  Thankfully, he was laughing too. “Shit. You told that woman her husband cheated because she was bad in bed!”

  “I didn’t mean it like that! I was only five!” I insisted and playfully swatted at him.

  The moment my palm made contact with his chest, his hand circled around my wrist and pulled, closing the space between us. When my body made contact with his, he wrapped one arm around my shoulders and buried his face in the crook of my neck. “Every time you laugh, your tits bounce beautifully, and I feel like it’s only fair to warn you that I’m about four bounces away from putting my hands on them,” he rumbled against my skin.

  The combination of a sinful biker, a long dry spell, and a few glasses of liquid courage had the words coming out of my mouth without thinking. “I think it’s only fair to warn you that I’m about to bounce four times.”

  He tightened his hold on me as I felt his teeth graze the skin of my neck. “I’m not playing, Sloane. I’ll put you on my dick right here in this booth.”

  I tried to stifle the groan his words elicited from me, but he heard it. “You want my cock, baby?”

  “Yes,” I breathed. “But not here.”

  I felt him grin against my skin. “Where to, Sweet Sloane?”

  “Uh, it’d be easier for you to follow me,” I said, not wanting to admit I couldn’t remember the name of the hotel. I knew where it was, though, and that’s what really mattered.

  He pulled back and shook his head. “Nope. We’ve both been drinking. Gimme a sec, and I’ll get us a ride.” After sending a text to someone, he placed his phone on the table. “He’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

  “How many of these have I had?” I asked when I noticed two untouched BWOLs on the table.

  “Why does it matter? It’s just a number. Judge by how you feel,” he advised.

  “Drinking advice from a bar-owning biker. Now, if that’s not a cliché, I don’t know what is,” I teased. Since I wasn’t going to be driving, I saw no reason to let the two BWOLs on the table go to waste. Quickly downing both, I asked, “Any chance I can get two more before our ride gets here?”

  “Why? You nervous?” he asked and studied me carefully.

  “Oh,” I laughed when realization dawned. “No, it’s nothing like that. I just really like them.”

  He nodded knowingly and got to his feet. “Yeah, we hear that a lot. I’ll be right back.”

  While he was gone, I dug through my purse and found some cash. When he returned with two drinks for me and one for him, I pushed the money to him. “If that’s not enough to cover the tab, let me know.”

  He snorted and pushed it back to me. “Owners drink and eat for free. As do their guests.”

  “That’s very generous of you. Thanks,” I said sincerely. I really didn’t expect him to comp my drinks even though he’d joked about bartering for the tab earlier.

  He shrugged. “It’s something we’ve always done. Drink up,” he said and pointed to his wrist even though he wasn’t wearing a watch.

  I opted not to point it out and helped myself to the last two drinks while we waited to be picked up.

  When Bronze’s phone lit up with a text, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the booth behind him. “Grant’s here.”

  “Is that what you guys call Uber?” I laughed.

  “Nah, Grant’s a prospect for the club.” He stopped beside a lifted truck and opened the back door for me. To my surprise, he climbed in the back seat with me instead of getting into the front with his friend.

  “Where to?” the guy in the driver’s seat asked.

  “Oh,” I giggled to cover my embarrassment. “Um, I’m staying at the hotel on Main Street. The one with resort and spa in the name. I can’t remember the first part of it though. Do you know which one I’m talking about?”

  “The Winchester?”

  “That’s it!” I shouted excitedly.

  “Yeah, I know where it is,” he laughed and put the truck into gear.

  I was unaware of Bronze inching closer to me until he was practically plastered against my side. “Can I help you with something?” I asked and arched a brow.

  “Yes, you can,” he rasped and flicked his eyes to my mouth.

  “We’re here,” the driver announced.

  “Thanks, man,” Bronze said and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

  “No problem, VP. Have a good night.”

  “I plan to,” Bronze smirked and ushered me toward the hotel. “Thanks for the ride!” I shouted and gave a little wave before practically speed walking to the bay of elevators.

  “No need to rush, Sweet Sloane,” he said when he caught up with me. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve fucked you hard enough that you’ll feel me for days.”

  There was something hidden in his voice. Something hungry and full of need. Something barel
y restrained. Something that probably should have made me send him on his way. But it didn’t.

  Instead, I pulled him into the elevator when the doors opened. The moment they closed, he had me pinned against the wall with his unbelievably firm body deliciously pressed against mine.

  “I can’t wait to see how many times I can make you come,” he rumbled.

  “Fuck, yes,” I groaned and fisted his shirt.

  He bent closer, lowering his mouth to mine, and when he was only a hair’s breadth away, the door opened with an obnoxious ding.

  He growled. Growled. Then, he was the one pulling me into the hall. “Which way?”

  “This way.” I tugged on his hand and started down the long trek to my room. The hotel only had one set of elevators, and my room had to be the farthest one from them.

  “Where in the hell are you staying? Out back in the janitor’s closet?” he grumbled as we rounded the last corner.

  Finally, we made it to my door, and I extended the key card toward the lock with my shaking hand. Pressing against me from behind, he smoothed his hands down my arms while resting his forehead on the top of my head. “Sloane,” he said with a hint of warning in his tone. “I’m gonna fuck you the second you open that door. If you don’t want that, now’s the time to say it.”

  “Okay,” I whispered, and his warmth immediately disappeared as he took a step back. I whirled around so fast I almost lost my balance. “No! Don’t go,” I said, much louder than I intended. “I meant, ‘Okay, I understand, and I’m going to open the door as soon as my fucking hand stops shaking.’”

  He watched me while I silently cursed my nerves and tried to steady my hand long enough to unlock the door. Finally, the green light flashed, and I shoved the door open with a little too much exuberance, causing it to slam into the wall. “Oops.”

  He placed one hand on my shoulder and stopped me from entering. “You sure?” Was I? No, I wasn’t. Not entirely. But there was something about him that drew me in and consumed me in a way no one ever had. I knew I would regret it for the rest of my life if I let go of the opportunity to experience him.

  “Very,” I managed to purr. What was in those drinks? I hoped sober me would remember that drunk me made a mental note to find out more about the BWOLs—mainly how I could convince Layla to give me the recipe.