by Nina Park
“Sure, why not?”
He ordered me something sugary and sharp, but I swallowed the whole thing in a few drinks anyway, sugar coating my tongue.
“You from around here?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at me as he sipped on his whiskey.
I nodded. “For the last six months.”
“I’ve never seen you in here before,” he said, shouting over the suddenly loud music.
The club was one of the biggest in the city. I could have come there every night for the last six months and never seen a single familiar face, so this wasn’t exactly surprising. However, I had a feeling the man was trying out a line on me, and I felt inclined to let him have this one.
“This is my first time,” I lied, looking up at him with moony eyes. If my mystery man was gone and my friends had disappeared, the least I could do was try to get a few more free drinks out of the guy.
It worked because he picked up my empty glass and held it up to the bartender, who replaced it with a fresh drink in a flash. I couldn’t imagine trying to keep track of who was drinking what and which drink belonged to which patron, but the bartenders seemed accustomed to the chaos of the club as they moved in synchronicity behind the bar, swirling around one another with shot glasses and martinis and liquor bottles.
The man told me about his job – something to do with a desk and numbers, which was surprisingly because of his tattoos – and I feigned interest while I sipped much slower on my refill. Either the sugar or the alcohol in the drink was starting to go to my head. The room felt like it was beginning to tilt sideways, so I lowered myself onto a stool.
The man must have taken this as encouragement because he scooted closer to me, wrapping his arm around my waist.
“What do you do for a living?” he asked, talking loudly into my ear.
I didn’t have a job and didn’t feel like letting this man in on that fact, so I squinted at him and pretended as if I couldn’t hear him. Childish, yes, but effective.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he shouted at me, pointing towards the doors. “It’s hard to talk in here.”
Crap. That wasn’t what I wanted either. I was about to explain that I was waiting for my friends when, just in the nick of time, Lacey arrived with a completely sloshed Avery draped over her shoulders.
“We have to go,” she said, glancing from me to the decades’ older man behind me and then tilting her head towards Avery.
Avery’s rosy complexion was tinged green, and it looked as though her bones had been swapped out with jelly.
I turned back to the man and shrugged. “Sorry, but I have to go. Thanks for the drink though.”
He shouted something at me as I walked away, but I didn’t hear and didn’t bother trying to find out. It sounded a bit angry, probably because he felt entitled to a little action after buying me two overpriced drinks, but that wasn’t my problem. My friends would always come first. Unless, of course, the hot mystery man from the dance floor had wanted to take me home.
In which case, Lacey would have been left to wrangle a drunk Avery all on her own. No shame.
Chapter Two
Cade
Shit. I was running late.
I knew when the woman in the club asked me to dance that it would make me late, but her pouty lips and honey-brown eyes made it impossible to say no. She wore her red dress like a second skin and running my hands along her body felt like an absolute honor. The club was far from my usual hangout, but it was close to where I was headed, and I needed a drink to take the edge off of my bad day. I hadn’t even had time to order a drink when she wrapped her fingers around my arm and plucked me from the crowd.
I knew I was handsome, but most women avoided me. The tattoos were the first turn off. Women seemed to enjoy them in romance novels, but in real life, they would turn and walk in the other direction. I looked like trouble. This woman, however, seemed up for the adventure. Her eyes had practically devoured me, racing over every bit of exposed skin and lingering along each of my tattoo sleeves.
Then, on the dance floor… God. She had practically killed me. She knew just how to move her body to drive me wild, and it took everything inside of me not to find the nearest dark corner and take her right then and there, public indecency be damned. But, I also knew I had a responsibility to my club.
My boss, Guts Fletcher, asked me to do a bit of reconnaissance work on some of the other motorcycle clubs, so I was headed to an abandoned warehouse for some kind of auction. I needed to see who was in attendance and try to pick up on anything unusual. The Stone Devils were one of the biggest motorcycle clubs in the city, and we stayed on top by staying up to date on all of the goings-on.
While we were dancing, the woman’s head thrown back, the length of her neck and chest exposed to me while she writhed against me, I somehow managed to tear my eyes away to look at the clock. I was already ten minutes behind schedule. But I knew I couldn’t leave until I’d satisfied her.
I grabbed her hips, slung her body around my own, and ground myself up against her. Her pupils were blown wide with desire, and it only took a few thrusts before she was clenching and shaking against me. When I let go, and she turned away from me, pressing herself back into me, I used her distraction to slip away.
As much as I wanted to stay and see where the night would take us, I had a job to do. She called for me over the crowd, but I didn’t have the time or the desire to become involved with anyone at the moment, even someone as beautiful as she was.
Dating in a MC has its challenges. There are plenty of club girls to go around if you don’t mind sharing, but they don’t interest me the way they used to. Whenever I do decide to settle down with someone, I don’t want it to be a woman who only cares about the tattoos on my arms and the patches on my kutte.
I want her to care about me. It sounds cheesy, even in my own head, but it’s the truth. Everyone, deep down, wants the same things: a sexy piece of ass with a good heart and the desire to stick around for the long haul. The girl from the club was a sexy piece of ass, but I hadn’t had time to see if she met my other requirements.
Not that it mattered, I reminded myself as I stepped into the sticky evening. I wasn’t looking for a relationship. Guts wanted to make the Stone Angels legit, cut away some of the illegal side businesses and focus on the legal stuff, and I wanted to be at the forefront of that. As it was, I had to make sure Guts knew I could be counted on.
I couldn’t waste time with a fling just because she had amazing curves and the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen. There would be plenty of women in my life, but I only had one chance to move up in the Stone Angels, and this was it.
Word had been spreading over the last week of an auction that several of the other MC bosses and members would be attending. Guts didn’t show any interest in going, but he still wanted a pair of eyes there to make sure the Stone Devils wouldn’t be surprised by anything. It was a huge honor to be trusted by Guts. He had a reputation of being more than a little paranoid, and it took years to earn his trust.
When he asked if I wanted to attend the auction, I jumped at the chance. He didn’t offer up any information other than the location and the time, so I didn’t have much of an idea what I was walking into. The other motorcycle clubs in the city dealt in everything from guns to drugs to women, so there was no way to be sure without attending.
One block over from the club was a large abandoned building that spanned the entire length of a block. The façade was crumbling brick and shattered windows. All of the doors, save for one, had been boarded over with plywood and spray painted by local kids who liked to play at being gangsters.
Their graffitied tags were practically illegible, and they overlapped other tags in a silly attempt to claim their “turf”, as if they had any actual claim anywhere in the city. If Guts hadn’t given me the address, I would have walked right past the building, assuming it to be exactly what it looked like – abandoned.
I rapped twice on the exposed door and wait
ed. Silence gave way to a faint shuffling and then the door opened. A large man, easily twice my size in every dimension – height, width, and girth – filled the frame, and after a few moments of silence, he stepped aside, apparently deciding I was worthy of entry.
I didn’t hesitate to take his offer, afraid that he would revoke it at any second, and stepped into the dim building. Temporary lights, fueled by a generator based on the background hum I was hearing, directed me down a long hallway, deep into the building. Halfway down the hall, a set of double doors had been propped open with a piece of two-by-four.
I pulled the door open, revealing a small gathering of men standing around a stage. Lights – the same as the ones that lined the hallway – were positioned around the stage, illuminating it and casting the rest of the room in darkness by comparison.
Several men from the crowd turned to watch me as I entered, but most people kept their eyes on the ground or the stage, expectant. The room had a quiet kind of urgency in it. Toes tapped against the concrete floors, fingers pulled nervously at shirt sleeves and jean pockets.
Around the circle of men was a second, less obvious but more intimidating circle of men. Security, by the looks of it. They all wore black shirts and pants, and where everyone else seemed fixated on the stage, these men seemed fixated on the crowd.
What was going up for auction that it required so much security? Most things in the motorcycle club world were unregulated. We existed in the periphery, on the edge of civilization. If someone had taken the time to gather up this much muscle, there was no telling what kind of goods would be bought and sold.
I suddenly wondered whether Guts shouldn’t have sent me with some money. He told me he only wanted me to observe, but what if he didn’t realize how important this auction would be? I considered pulling out my phone and texting him, suggesting he come join me, but I hesitated. I didn’t want him to think I doubted his authority, and I certainly didn’t want to haul him all the way across town if it turned out the auction was for a crappy bunch of scrubbed guns. Of which, we already had enough anyway.
I left my phone in my pocket and crossed my arms. I’d been asked to observe, and that is what I’d do. Observe.
Chapter Three
Falyn
Carrying Avery through the club was a surprisingly difficult task. She was small, even shorter than I was, but alcohol had turned her body to mush. Her body swayed in every direction except the one we wanted her to move, and she kept wrapping her arms around our necks and kissing our cheeks, loudly exclaiming her love for us.
“Does that mean I’m a lesbian?” she shouted in my ear, her hand coming up to pet my chest.
A few patrons shot us rude glances, and I smiled and waved in apology.
“No, Avery,” I said, whispering to try and counteract her yelling. “You can love me without being a lesbian.”
“Good,” she mumbled, giving my boob a curious tap and then turning her focus to Lacey. “You are beautiful. Like a… tropical fish.”
Lacey looked from Avery to me and then burst into laughter. “Thanks. I think.”
We were still laughing as we made it through the front doors and into the warm night. The crowd on the sidewalk parted as we walked out, Avery’s arms thrown over each of our shoulders, her legs dragging uselessly beneath her.
“Do we put her in a cab?” Lacey asked.
Because Lacey and I lived together, and her studio was only a few blocks away, we typically walked to the club. Avery, however, lived at least ten miles away. We clearly couldn’t let her walk home, but she also didn’t seem capable of safely taking a cab by herself.
“I don’t know,” I said, removing Avery’s arm from around my neck to see how well she could manage on her own.
No sooner had I released my firm hold on her, Avery tumbled forward onto the concrete and vomited in the gutter. A few people behind us groaned in disgust.
“We can’t leave her alone,” Lacey said, kneeling to hold back Avery’s hair and rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, definitely not,” I agreed.
“Who took care of her last?”
I liked Avery. Really, I did. But this happened every time we went out. She pounded drinks, ended up sloppy drunk, and one of us ended up staying the night at her place. It was so bad that Lacey and I each kept a toothbrush in her bathroom just in case. We weren’t even going to invite her out with us, but I’d accidentally texted Lacey about going out to the club in a group message we had going with Avery, and she had responded almost immediately with a resounding “YES!!!” So, while it was my fault she was with us at all, I had been the last person to clean up her vomit and tuck her into her queen-size bed.
I raised my hand and offered Lacey an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” I said, though I wasn’t very sorry at all. I most just felt relief.
Lacey narrowed her eyes at me. “You suck.”
“You’re the greatest, sweetest friend in the world,” I said, cooing at her.
She flipped me off while I hailed a taxi. I assisted Lacey in hauling a very nauseous Avery into the back of the cab while the driver repeated over and over again that she shouldn’t vomit in his car.
“I’m sure she won’t vomit if she can help it, sir,” Lacey finally snapped. (That was as close as Lacey ever came to truly snapping at someone.)
I waved to Lacey through the window while she glared at me, and then watched the taxi disappear around the block.
Walking home by myself so late at night wasn’t exactly desirable, but it sure beat taking care of Avery, so I slipped my heels off, letting them dangle by the straps from my index finger, and started home. Aside from the small collection of people outside the club, the rest of the block and the street were mostly deserted.
I made it to the end of the block and crossed the street without looking. I took a sharp right down the next block, moving past what appeared to be an abandoned building. As I came upon the alley behind the building, everything seemed to be steeped in inky shadows. I looked up and realized the street light wasn’t working.
Years of after-school specials and a good dose of life experience had taught me to be cautious around dark alleys. I was a young woman walking home alone, which basically made me catnip to would-be muggers and rapists. I turned my shoe in my hand, holding it, so the heel pointed outwards, perfect for jabbing into an eyeball.
“Hey, baby.”
The voice startled me, causing me to drop my heels and makeshift weapon onto the concrete. I stumbled backward and turned wildly, searching for the speaker.
A shadowy figure broke away from the larger shadow of the alley, moving towards me. I froze with fear. I’d fooled myself into thinking I was prepared for a possible attack because I expected it, because I’d held my purse a little tighter to my chest and gripped the heel of my shoe. But standing on the sidewalk alone and exposed, I realized I had no idea what to do.
I was nowhere near as drunk as Avery, but alcohol still dulled my senses and made my brain feel like it was floating in a warm pool. The only self-defense move I had in my arsenal was a kick to the crotch, but that required moving within leg’s reach of the shadowy stranger, which I wasn’t keen on doing.
“Did I scare you?” the man asked.
My heart had jolted into my throat, making it almost impossible to breathe or speak, so I just stared at the opening of the alley with wide eyes, willing my pupils to adjust to the darkness so I could see who was talking. The voice felt familiar, though I couldn’t place it.
“I did scare you, huh? I’m sorry. Do you not remember me?”
Remember him? Present circumstances aside, I don’t make a habit of talking with strange men who lurk in alleys, so no, I did not remember the man.
Just then, he stepped away from the shade of the abandoned building, and I saw his face. I did remember him. The man from the bar. The moonlight made his blonde hair glow and softened his features. He looked younger than he had at the bar, though it was still obvious a few decades separated u
s.
“I remember you,” I managed to say, my heart rate slowing infinitesimally.
He nodded and took another step towards me. “You left pretty suddenly before.”
I looked back over my shoulder towards the club, towards the last place I’d seen the man. How had he beaten me here? He must have walked past me while Lacey and I were dealing with Avery outside. Had he been waiting in the alley for me or was it a coincidence?
“Sorry,” I said, shrugging and taking a step back. “My friend was sick.”
He looked up and down the street. “Where is she now?”
I knew it was obvious I was alone, but I still didn’t want to say it. Saying the words aloud made me seem even more vulnerable.