Cross Your Heart: Inked Angels MC

by Zoey Parker

  “Well, it ain’t about where you’re from, I suppose. The more important thing is where you’re headed.”

  “I’m not really sure,” she said.

  She might not have been sure, but I had a pretty good idea. “How about home with me?”

  She blushed another hue deeper. Before she could answer, I heard someone clearing their throat on the other side of the bar. I swiveled my head to see the bartender slouched in front of me, giving me an amused side-eye.

  “You gonna make me wait forever, or would you like something to drink?” she asked sarcastically.

  I immediately forgot about the townie girl. This bartender had some sass to her, a real salty attitude that I found attractive. Nothing better than a girl who isn’t afraid to give some push-back.

  “That depends,” I said with a wry grin. “I certainly wouldn’t mind standing here and just looking at you for a while.”

  She rolled her eyes, but I could see that she liked the attention. “And here I was thinking you were gonna spend the whole night talking to these tarted-up girls who’re barely out of high school.”

  I glanced out of the corner of my eye and saw the local chick burning with loathing at the wise-cracking bartender. I chuckled to myself. The competing female attention was always entertaining. Girls could be cold towards men, but when it came to other women, they were downright ruthless. I’d learned a long time ago that it was best to stay out of the line of fire and just wait until there was only one left standing.

  “Shouldn’t you be doing your job?” the townie snapped over my shoulder.

  The bartender looked down on her with a patronizing sweetness. “Honey, at least I got one. The only job you’ve ever tried is a blowjob. And that don’t help much with the bills, now, does it?”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at that one. This chick was really growing on me. The townie stammered but it looked like the wires in her brain were short-circuiting. Without anything good enough to retort with, she turned and stomped off back to her friends. I could almost see the steam rising from her ears.

  “No need to be so rough on the local youth,” I remarked.

  She sighed and started wiping down a rack of beer glasses below the counter. “Those girls flock in here anytime someone shows up on a motorcycle,” she said, tossing her head in the direction of the flock of girls who kept throwing evil eyes at her as they comforted their furious friend. “I gotta give them credit, though, at least they know what they’re after.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Men like you.”

  “Oh?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The kind of man who’ll go to bed with the first girl willing to part her legs for him, that’s what it means,” she fired at me.

  I put a hand on my chest like I was offended. “You’ve got me pegged all wrong, sweetness,” I protested. “I’m as pure as the driven snow.”

  She laughed. Her eyes locked on mine as she stopped cleaning. As she looked at me, her lips parted slightly. I saw white teeth and a red tongue. It looked tasty. For a moment, there was just her eyes and mine, tangoing, jousting.

  “I know your type,” she said finally. “The word ‘manwhore’ comes to mind.”

  “Now you’re really trying to push my buttons.”

  “I might be,” she admitted.

  “Bad move.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because now I have to take you in the back and show you why you’re wrong.”

  She paused, then looked down. “That doesn’t seem like a good idea,” she said quietly. I noticed her hands were shaking slightly and her skin was flushed. She wanted me, I could tell, but she was struggling to contain the desire. The way I saw it, it was my job to convince her to let it roam free.

  Before she could react, I swung myself over the bar in an easy leap and wrapped my arm around her waist. “C’mon, babe,” I whispered in her ear. My beard brushed against her neck and my lips were soft against her skin. “Let’s go for a ride.”

  “I can’t,” she objected. “I’ve got a bar to run!”

  I looked over at the boys around the table. They were used to my antics, so they were hardly paying attention. I gave a sharp whistle and they all looked up. “Yo, Steezy!” I called. “Come take over!”

  He hustled over quickly and paused at the corner of the bar as I led the bartender out through the swinging, waist-high door. She was compliant in my hands, letting me guide her wherever I wanted to take us, almost like she was in a trance. “We’re gonna take a little field trip,” I told him with a wink. “Do me a favor and tend bar until… Wait, what’s your name?”

  “Carla,” she said in a daze.

  “Until Carla and I get back,” I finished.

  He nodded and stepped behind the bar without another word. Carla gazed at him and then looked up at me wonderingly. “Don’t worry, hon,” I said. “He’s smart. Now, which way to the back room?”

  She shook her head and seemed to regain her wits. Giving me a seductive glance over her shoulder, she wound her fingers between mine and walked towards a long hallway that stretched into the guts of the building. We reached the end of the hall, where a door separated the Employees Only area from the rest of the bar. I opened the door and gestured for her to walk through first.

  “Such a gentleman,” she remarked.

  I winked and smacked her ass as she walked by. “In my world, ladies always come first.”

  Chapter 2

  Corinne

  “Aw, shit.” I dropped the mascara pen and groped blindly around the counter for a tissue. My right eye was tearing up where I’d accidentally stabbed myself while putting on make-up. I was blinking hard, trying to quell the pain, while the stinging spread into what felt like the middle of my brain.

  After almost two decades of living, I thought I’d be better at this stuff by now. But then again, the girly stuff had never come super naturally to me. I guess that’s what happened when a girl grew up surrounded by burly biker men. And given that my daddy was the president of the Inked Angels MC, bikers were the only type of man I knew.

  My earliest memories were the smell of leather and engine grease. It was a nice smell in its own way, but it wasn’t exactly what I’d call a little girl’s fantasy. It definitely fell far short of the sugar plums and spices that all my classmates’ parents seemed to think was appropriate for their daughters. Even when I was in elementary school, I had vivid recollections of the nasty glares that my father and I got when he dropped me off on his bike in front of the schoolyard. That loud engine rumbling was unlike anything those WASPy moms had ever seen in their lives. I liked it, though. There was something about being on the back of a bike that felt right to me.

  But even as other girls were told to stay away from “the biker’s daughter,” my daddy seemed determined not to let me run in the kind of circles where he did business. “Keep far away from men on motorcycles,” he’d warned me more than once. “They’re no good.”

  “But Daddy, you ride a motorcycle,” I protested.

  “Yeah, well, I’m a bastard, but I’m your bastard, and I’m the only one you can trust. Just mark my words: a biker won’t do anything but break your heart. I want you to have a better life than that. Find a nice, smart boy, one who will bring you flowers and treat you like a lady.”

  For eighteen years, I’d tried to follow his advice, but it just didn’t seem to be working for me. The boys who fit his suggested description were universally the most vanilla, mind-numbing group of people on the planet. I’d been on date after date with every nice boy in town, but they all left me feeling bored and unsatisfied. Where was the heat? Where was the passion? Wasn’t that what boys were supposed to be all about? Wasn’t that what sex was for?

  I don’t know where I’d gotten ideas like that from, but they were stuck in my head regardless. No matter how hard I tried to be happy with the latest in an endless succession of bland, blond, blue-eyed boys, I foun
d myself breaking things off just as soon as they’d gotten started. Every now and then, I felt bored enough to give sex another shot, but I inevitably left frustrated with my inability to feel the tiniest little bit of sensation.

  I barely remembered losing my virginity. It had happened with a boy from high school in the summer after we graduated, but I didn’t even feel anything while we did it. To be completely honest, I’d almost fallen asleep halfway through. He sure seemed to be into it. I didn’t understand. Why couldn’t I get swept away?

  I dabbed at my face with the tissue as the tears streaming from my poor, abused eye started to slow down. I focused on my reflection in the mirror in front of me.

  I didn’t think it was because I was ugly. In fact, I supposed I was even pretty, in a conventional sort of way. The boys in town generally seemed to think so, at least. I had long, dark brown hair that fell in a wavy curtain around my shoulders. My skin was tan and unblemished and my lips had a nice pink fullness to them. Years of cross-country running had kept my body skinny and taut.

  But I didn’t feel beautiful. Not the way that all those Disney princesses seemed to feel beautiful, spinning around in their big, colorful dresses like they were queens of the world. I didn’t want to be like them, for sure — that kind of life just wasn’t for me — but I desperately wanted to know what it felt like to be so confident and carefree. And the way those princes looked at them… That’s what every girl wanted, right? We wanted to feel wanted. Simple as that. So why on earth was it so freaking elusive?

  Picking up the mascara, I finished daubing my eyelashes. I screwed the cap back on and leaned forward to admire my handiwork. “Not bad, Corinne,” I observed, “not bad at all.” For a girl who hardly ever bothered to get dressed up, I’d done a halfway decent job, the accidental self-stabbing notwithstanding.

  I rose to my feet and padded over to where my outfit lay on the bed. I shivered and rubbed my arms. For some reason, the A/C in the house was cranked up to full blast and it was icy cold in the room. It didn’t help that I was clad in only lace panties. I glanced down quickly at the sheer underwear I was wearing, feeling a glimmer of pride that I immediately suppressed. I pretty much never wore underwear like this, but it felt like the kind of night to bust out the special clothing.

  I surveyed the clothes I’d laid out and felt a big, dry gulp ride down my throat. I steeled myself and dressed quickly, before second thoughts convinced me to go with a more conservative option. When the last article was on, I turned to check out my reflection in the full-length mirror propped up against one wall of my bedroom.

  It was a risqué outfit to say the least. The midnight leather jeans hugged my curves so tightly that I thought I might bust out of them. The black crop top I wore above it did the absolute minimum in keeping my breasts hidden from the view of the general public I was about to wade into. It zippered up the front, silver teeth gleaming in the light from overhead. My stomach below the garment’s edge was bronzed and flat.

  It sure as hell wasn’t my usual style, which was more along the lines of patched and faded blue levis with a thin white t-shirt and boots, but in spite of my insecurities, even I had to admit: I looked damn good.

  “Oo, girl, you are looking fine as hell!” cooed a familiar voice as the door to my room burst open. Lily and Kendall flew inside and began pawing at me, making silly jokes as they slapped playfully at my leather-encased ass.

  “All the boys at the club are gonna be lovin’ you tonight!” Kendall shrieked, giggling.

  I felt a familiar sensation of doubt take over me. Nightclubs were hardly a place where I felt comfortable. It seemed like they brought out the worst in men, turning them all into drunk, leering creepers desperate to get their hands on a piece of female, any female. I definitely wasn’t a prude, but I wasn’t an object to be pawed at, either.

  Our plans for the evening revolved around a club called the Enigma. It was new and one of the hottest spots in town. I’d passed by there a couple weekends back and seen a long line of beautiful people stretching out the front door: impossibly tall girls with long legs and short dresses, men dressed in dazzling suits with expensive watches flashing on their wrists. Normally, it would have been impossible for us to get in, but Lily was friends with one of the guys who worked at the door, and she’d convinced him to let us slip ahead of the line tonight. But he’d also made her promise that she would make sure all her friends were dressed to the nines. Thus my outfit, the make-up, the whole shebang. I was venturing wildly out of my comfort zone.

  “Come sit, Cor,” Kendall urged, patting the ground in front of my full length mirror. I sat cross-legged and she settled down behind me and started brushing my hair while chatting about the night ahead. I let out a sigh and tried to calm my nerves. Her babbling was soothing in its own way. I did my very best to let my worried thoughts slip away as I got lost in her talking. Lily sat next to us, texting and adding in a comment every now and then.

  “It’s gonna be such a good night,” Kendall declared. She put her hands on my shoulders and leaned forward to give me a girly smooch on the cheek.

  “Get off me, you clown,” I said as I laughed and pushed her away.

  She pinned me down and started planting kisses all over my face. “This is what all the boys are going to be like tonight!” she cackled. “‘C’mere, girl, gimme some sugar.”

  I giggled helplessly below her. “That’s what I’m worried about,” I admitted once the onslaught of kisses eased.

  Kendall settled back onto her heels and looked at me with her head tilted sideways. “That’s the fun, though,” she said. “Right, Lily? Chime in here.”

  Lily flipped her hair and took my hand in hers. She looked oddly concerned. “Of course! Kendall’s totally right, Cor. You look beautiful. It’ll be fun. Come on,” she said, rising to her feet, “let’s go have a couple shots to get the night started.”

  Just as she started to tug me upright, I saw my phone start vibrating on the floor in front of me. I could see the caller name lighting up the screen: Daddy.

  “One sec,” I told Lily and Kendall, who both stood over me. “Y’all go ahead. I’ll be right there. Just gotta talk to my dad real quick.”

  They looked at each other and shrugged, then left to go pour drinks in the kitchen. As soon as the door had shut behind them, I picked up my phone. “Hi, Daddy,” I said.

  “Hey, sweetness, what’s up?”

  “Nothin’, just getting ready to go out. Lily and Kendall are over.”

  “Hmm,” he growled.

  I hated when he did that. There was always something more to his wordless noises than he liked to explain. “What?” I snapped. I felt annoyed out of nowhere. I was all of the sudden so sick of trying to decipher each of his “Hmm’s” from the next. “Just say what you want to say.”

  “Be careful tonight, Corinne. That’s all.”

  “Yeah? Why tonight? What’s so damn important about tonight?” The irritation was surging through me now, flushing my skin with heat and adrenaline. I didn’t know where it had come from, but it refused to be ignored.

  “You know that I can’t tell you details, darling,” he said. He sounded genuinely apologetic, but I wasn’t having any of it.

  “I’m eighteen years old, Daddy, and I’m so tired of these vague warnings all the time. Either tell me what’s going on, or don’t bother calling at all.” My eyes were narrowed to slits. I looked at myself in the morning and saw my face twisted into an ugly mask of anger.

  “Hmm,” he growled again, his voice a low, static rumble over the phone connection.

  “Ugh!” I yelped, and I threw the phone across the room. Without bothering to see if he was still on the line, I stood up and marched to the kitchen.

  Eighteen years of being a biker’s daughter felt like it all came crashing down on me in one second. And not just any biker’s daughter, but the daughter of the president of the Inked Angels MC. I couldn’t be worried about my life every damn second, especially not when he
wouldn’t ever even tell me what I was supposed to be worried about. I couldn’t even begin to count the number of times we’d had conversations exactly like the one we’d just had, where he told me to be careful but refused to tell me why or how. Sure, maybe he thought he was protecting me or my ‘innocence’ by sparing me from the details, but what he was doing even more than that was driving me crazy one phone call at a time. Screw that. I was eighteen years old now and I could have fun with my friends without worrying that I was on the verge of getting scooped up by a rival gang. I was going to a club, not a damn biker bar. Daddy could worry about his own problems.

  The anger washed away all my insecurity and hesitation as I strode into the kitchen. Lily and Kendall gave me raised eyebrows as I walked in, but I ignored them.

  “Everything okay?” Lily ventured.