“So? He explained he never took jobs like the one to kill me. He only signed on to do it because he recognized my picture in the request.”
“So, you refused to turn him in for murder for hire, then he hid you away, the man never came back after offering some sort of proof you were dead, and you ended up on the run?”
I nodded my head.
“Then some asshole you went to school with, who also knew your ex – sorry, your husband – saw you stripping, and called out your name in public so you ran again?” Blondie continued with the recap.
“Yeah, then I ended up here hoping I was far enough away to coast under the radar until I figured out what to do.”
“You’re listed as missing and endangered in the system,” blondie explained. “I’m assuming he initially thought the hired killer took you out and was just trying to fleece him for more money to tell him where the body was. A person has to be missing for 7 years before they can be declared dead.”
“I think it’s a shorter time period in Nevada, but still takes years,” Mr. darkly sexy interrupted.
“Okay, so at any rate, assuming he was desperate for money, he wants proof you’re dead rather than you missing for so long.”
“Most likely,” I managed to choke out. “Look, I appreciate the recap of my shitty life this past year, but honestly, I need to get on the road as soon as possible…” I started to say as I got up and backed toward the door again, keeping my eyes on both men in the room.
“Do you have any experience behind the bar?” Blondie asked.
I tipped my head up and down indicating that I did. “It’s what I did when I moved to California in between dancing gigs.”
“Perfect. We can’t hire you here at Rosy’s, because we can’t have possible violent trouble rolling up here to find you.”
“I understand,” I stated calmly even though I felt like my last bastion of safety was being ripped out from underneath me.
“But,” blondie continued, ignoring my obviously rising stress levels. “We can have you tend bar at the clubhouse. We’ll give you room and board plus $200 a week for expenses. You won’t be expected to do anything beyond serve drinks and cleaning your station. If anyone tries to touch you, or gives you shit, you will let one of us know immediately. Understood?”
“Not really,” I sputtered out. “You’re giving me a job, just not here?” I asked.
“Our club, Aces High M.C.,” he pointed to the patch on his kutte, “has a clubhouse where all the members hang out. We have a bar, and it just so happens we are short a bartender. So, again, you can take that job and let us help figure this shit out for you, or you can be on your way to…” he left the words hanging knowing full well my plan had been to find the biker club Macy spoke of.
“My plan, beyond this not working out, was just to keep moving,” I sighed, exhaustion settling in my bones like an old friend at the thought.
“Look, I feel bad that we may have blown your cover after we promised we wouldn’t repeat your name. Take the job. We’ll try to help get your life back as our penance for fucking things up.”
“Okay,” I told him.
“Okay,” he tossed back. “By the way,” he started to say as he stood and reached his hand out in my direction, “I’m Spinner.” I shook his hand and he tipped his head back to indicate the man still standing behind me. “That’s Rage. He’s going to show you to the clubhouse.”
“All right.” I moved closer to the door while side-eyeing Rage. “Your name doesn’t seem to fit with the dimples,” I stated, completely filterless. Damn it, my lack of an internal thought to spoken word filter was a curse in my life. Spinner kicked his head back and bellowed out a laugh. “Don’t laugh, I honestly would have pegged you for Rage, or at least Grumpy, before you told me your names.” Rage’s lips twisted up at the corners.
“Give it time, Darlin’. You’ll see why you are all kinds of wrong on both counts.”
Chapter 3
Rage glanced around in the parking lot and then back toward me before something seemed to dawn on him. “You didn’t come here in a car?”
“Nope. When B-um-the man dropped me off at the safe house he took the only car with him. He was planning to tell Josh the deed was done, but like I said he never came back. I’m not sure what happened to him at this point.”
“I get that, sweetheart. We’ll try to find him too if you want us to.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think he’d like that. He told me more than once he was a ghost who disappeared when needed and snuck up behind the enemy when they least expected it.”
A flicker of recognition passed over Rage’s face quickly and then was gone. “So, how did you manage to get here?”
“I bussed it to Spearfish and took a cab over here from there.” He just inclined his head a little bit and then glanced back at the most badass bike I’d ever seen. The base was black with chrome detailing, but the thing that captivated me was the custom paint job. Done in both bright and subtle greens there were what looked like souls being ushered from the front of the tank to the back and the same could be said for the rear fender where it ended with the souls being sucked into the mouth of what appeared to be a skeleton in a top hat with an Ace of Spades sticking out of it.
“Okay, well, the clubhouse isn’t too far away. You think you can hang on to me for the ride, or should I wait and call for a pick up from a cage?”
I rolled my eyes at the man. “I have been on the back of a bike before. I’ll be just fine with the ride over on two wheels, thanks.”
Now, it was his turn to look shocked as he swung his long, muscular leg over the bike and got comfortable. “Well, hop on Darlin’ and we’ll see what you remember. Lean with me when I do, and don’t be afraid to hold on tight.”
I was giddy with anticipation of actually sitting on the damn bike, let alone getting to ride on it. I quickly threw my leg over, popped my feet where they belonged and slid in close to the man who smelled of leather and some woodsy cologne I couldn’t quite place. “I haven’t ridden since my daddy was alive.” The words tumbled from my mouth before I knew what was happening. Rage reached back and gave my thigh a little squeeze before he started her up and took off startling a yelp from me thanks to his quick departure. I felt Rage’s shoulders and chest move with his laughter, rather than heard it.
We had already been on the outskirts of town at Renegade Ruby’s, but we literally took off further out of town in order to get to the clubhouse. I’m not going to lie, I had a moment of worry that I had done the wrong thing by hopping on the back of this man’s bike and taking off into nowhere with him. I had just told them that people essentially thought I was dead and/or missing, and that my husband had millions riding on proof of my death. They could try to sell me to him, or… I stopped that train of thought right where it started. I definitely didn’t get that vibe from these guys. Then again, I married a man who later tried to have me murdered, so I wasn’t entirely certain I could trust my own judgment.
Instead of dwelling on the horrible possibilities I chose to take in the surrounding area and appreciate the scenic views of the black hills off in the not too far distance. It was still late summer, and the leaves hadn’t started turning yet, but I imagined in another month or two they would make this place look spectacular. As the thought occurred I wondered if I would still be here in October. That was just under two months away. I must have tensed at the thought, because Rage squeezed my thigh again, and then opened up the throttle and we took off flying down the road for a few minutes. I suddenly remembered the feeling of freedom while gliding down the roads on the back of my dad’s bike years ago. I wondered what he would think of the mess I got myself into. For that matter, I wonder if he would have warned me away from Josh, or approved. He probably would have shot him. My dad had been an excellent judge of character.
I tuned back in to the ride as our speed started decreasing. There still wasn’t anything around that I could see until I noticed the little o
bscure roadway that seemed to lead even deeper into nowhere. Again, a quick flash of panic hit that maybe this man didn’t have the best of intentions. As if he could sense where my mind had gone, Rage squeezed his hand down on my thigh for the third time to reassure me that all was well. We travelled beyond a place in the road that was lined thickly with trees on either side and after about a mile we broke through to see a large compound in front of us. It had fencing surrounding it, and a gate to go through in order to get in. Inside the gate I could see a massive parking area and just beyond that a giant building that looked like it may have once been a small hospital or something of the sort.
The large, mostly rectangular building appeared to be at least 20,000 square feet from the outside, but I couldn’t accurately judge the depth. It was a two-story structure without including the possibility of subterranean levels, that much I was certain of. “Holy fuck! Rage has a bitch on board!” Someone shouted as Rage pulled into the lot after one of his brothers let us through the gate. I stiffened, and Rage no doubt felt my fear through the movement. As he cut the engine I noticed he was glaring at the guy who had yelled. He pointed at the man and snarled out, “If I needed you shouting my business I would have called ahead. Get the fuck inside and clean all the damn bathrooms.”
“Oh shit,” muttered the man, who I now noticed also wore the patch that said ‘Prospect” on his leather vest. I took that moment to plant my hands on Rage’s very sturdy shoulders for balance while I dismounted my shaky legs from his beautiful bike. As Rage also got off the incredible machine I just stood and stared.
“It’s a work of art,” I mumbled to myself.
“Thanks, Mikey did it for me,” he explained looking a bit sheepish, and not seeming to realize I had zero clue who Mikey was. “Let’s go get you introduced and set up with a room so we can stow your shit,” he stopped short then. Realizing for the first time that I didn’t actually have any shit to stow. “Where’s all your things, darlin?”
“Well, I only had the one bag, but it didn’t make it when I had to transfer busses in Denver. I basically have my wallet at this point and the clothes on my back.”
“Fuck me!” Rage snarled. “You could have mentioned that before we traveled the opposite direction of town.
“Yeah, I guess, except I was in a bit of shock about the fact that a couple jackasses just blew my invisibility all to shit.”
He sighed and then snatched my hand out of thin air with his own. “Let’s go.” He tugged gently and I followed, because honestly, what the hell else was I going to do? We made it to the front entrance of the slate gray, mostly non-descript building and I watched as he punched in a code. Well, I tried to watch, but he hid it well as he worked the keypad.
“You guys expect trouble a lot? You sure do have shit locked down out here.”
He snickered. “Haven’t had trouble in years. Least, none until you showed up with trouble stamped all across that cute little ass of yours.”
Well, shit.
Once inside we were in what looked like a tiny square room where the only thing other than the door we just came through and the one before us was a bank of cameras. Rage looked up so his eyes directly connected with one that was panning over us. “I have a guest, Spinner should have called ahead about her.” A buzzing sound lit up the room and the door in front of us opened with a slight groan before we moved beyond it.
The tiny room opened into a spacious place that looked like a young man’s wet dream. There were couches along the walls, round tables and chairs scattered willy-nilly about the place, and several pool tables. A butt load of bikers and more scantily clad women than I’d seen on a good night at any of the strip clubs I’d worked in over the past year were also lounging around here and there. I was taking it all in while Rage continued to move us forward over towards a bar area that took up an entire corner of the ridiculously open-space we were in.
“Rabbit,” Rage called out and a man that looked very much like Spinner glanced over from behind the bar. “This here is Charlie. She’s going to be working the bar with you for a while. She’ll be staying here too, but she is not up for grabs. You feel me? You see anyone touch her, and you let me or Spin know immediately.” Rabbit’s eyes went wide, but he agreed with a tilt of his head.
“Good to meet ya,” he said as he stuck his giant tanned hand out to greet me. “You any good at slinging drinks?”
“I used to sling them on the Sunset Strip, so I’d say I could probably handle this place.” I glanced around, assessing what kind of liquor they had on the shelf. “I’m guessing everyone keeps it simple here anyway.”
He laughed. “You got that right. Come on back here, and I’ll show you the ropes a bit while Rage takes care of some business.” Rage nodded approvingly while looking completely distracted. He still pulled tight on my hand as I started to walk away in order to get my attention.
“I’ll be back in just a bit. I need to go let our Prez know what’s up, first hand. Then I’ll make sure the girls get a room ready for you. We’ll pop an off limits sign up on the door too so no one mistakes you for one of the BRATs.”
“Okay, sure.” I glanced from him to the man he called Rabbit then simply waited.
Rage turned from me as Rabbit lifted a hinged piece of the bar up for me to get through to the other side. “Listen up,” Rage yelled out. “We have a little extra help at the bar. Name’s Charlie, and she’s off limits. Anyone touches her, gonna get touched by me… and not in a nice way, you feel?”
There was a raucous cry of catcalls, affirmations, and general teasing tossed about, but no one actually questioned what Rage was saying. So I just smiled and waved a hand in the air quickly before turning my attention back to Rabbit. Then I eyed him for a moment taking in his name embroidered on the chest of his kutte. “Two questions,” I stated to him. “First, what is a BRAT, exactly; because I’m guessing it isn’t being used in the way people describe unruly children? Second, how does one get a name like Rabbit?” I asked nonchalantly.
He chuckled good-naturedly. “The BRATs are the club whores that hang around. Bitches Relinquishing Ass and Tits. Most clubs call them club whores, sweet butts, or party girls.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We just got a little more inventive with naming them one day since the title tends to fit their attitudes too. They’re all here willingly, and they get to stay on site, and are taken care of in exchange for being available for any brother on the premises.” At the incredulous look I didn’t bother hiding he reiterated, “they’re here willingly, and free to go whenever they choose.” He waited to see if I had a problem with that. I didn’t. To each their own. So long as I was never mistaken for a BRAT I would be just fine ignoring my personal issues about them. “How does a chick get a name like Charlie?” He hit back without missing a beat.
“Well, mine is short for Charlotte,” I cringed as I said the name I’d hated since kids kept calling me “spider” in grade school after the children’s book about the spider and pig.
“Well, mine is short for likes-to-fuck-a-lot,” he deadpanned until he watched my eyes widen in surprise and then we were both doubled over laughing. It was just the icebreaker needed to relieve the tension that had built with being thrown into an entirely new world than I was used to. I was wiping a tear from my eye when Rage walked back over to the bar, glanced between the two of us, shook his head and asked what was so damn funny. “Just getting to know one another, right Charlotte?”
“Sure thing, Likes-to-fuck-a-lot!” We both dissolved into incredibly immature giggles as Rage rapped his knuckles on the bar, shook his head once again, and tried to hide the grin that was attempting to spread on his face.
“Seems we put you in the right place after all,” he said before walking away once more. Rabbit held his fist up and we bumped ours together before a throat clearing caught our attention. An older man had bellied up to the bar watching our interaction with interest.
“Shot of Jameson and a draft,” he tossed out gruffly as he igno
red me in favor of Rabbit. It didn’t matter; I was already pulling the draft as Rabbit poured the shot. Teamwork at its finest. “About time we got some new ass in here.” He locked eyes with me as I slid the draft his way. “You’ll be riding my dick tonight, sugar.”
“The fuck I will!” I snipped indignantly as I slid the beer towards the asshole watching as it sloshed over the sides a bit.
He moved to grab hold of my wrist, but Rabbit caught hold of his hand before he could by slamming his down on top of the man’s. “She is off limits. She’s working behind the bar, but she ain’t a BRAT for the taking. Rage brought her in.” He shut the man’s next question down with that simple statement. “You have a problem with things, you take it up with him. You fuck with Charlie here, in any capacity she’s not comfortable with, and you deal with me too.”
“What the fuck kind of shit is this?” The man groused loudly. “You takin’ up for a bitch over a brother?”
“Word has been put out that she’s off limits. That means you obey the word of your brothers, or you find yourself no longer able to be a brother,” another older man stated simply as he walked up to the bar with Rage at his side. His eyes were glacial blue, just light enough to have a hint of color, but subtle enough to almost be mistaken as eerily white. He glanced in my direction and tipped his head in greeting. “I’m Iceman, sweetheart. I’m the President of the Dakota’s Chapter of Aces High. Rage has informed me of your situation, and he will be the one updating you on the progress. He’s also the one you go to if you have a problem. Seems you can also lean on Rabbit when needed too. That’s good. I don’t anticipate too many issues, but some of our older brothers folded in from another club a few years back, and they ran things a little differently there. We still have some growing pains to adjust to.”
While Iceman was talking I noticed Rage was busy glowering at Beaver, the guy who had just been giving me a hard time. Beaver noticed too, and slammed his shot back, picked up his beer and swaggered away as best he could with the beer belly he was sporting. Gross. I couldn’t believe he thought I would ever entertain having sex with him, but then again, from what I was gathering a BRAT wouldn’t have any qualms about it. I wasn’t sure if they got paid in the traditional sense, or what, but I also wasn’t certain I wanted to know the full mechanics behind that situation. A shiver ran through me at the thought of being here and open to having sex with any of these men. Some of them, granted, were people I might have definitely had a one-night stand, or more, with in a different life. But the others were a big old hell no.
Dancing With Danger Page 2