Clubs: Motorcycle Club Romance (Savage Saints MC Book 6)

by Hazel Parker

  At least BK had mostly retreated to the background. That one night of poker had been a real pain in the ass, but otherwise, he hadn’t visited The Red Door, perhaps choosing to visit Richard and other members outside of the building. As long as he didn’t bother me… or take my job, I wouldn’t bother him.

  Pretty simple.

  I checked my phone. It was now six minutes until Cassie was required to show up—or, once again, abandon me. I knew she wasn’t going to show. We hadn’t said a word to each other since I’d hoped—yeah, I’ll admit to it—she would talk to me after the day BK showed up. She had no reason to show up.

  Damn shame, too. Honestly, I’d like to give…

  Give it a shot?

  Yeah, I would. She was the only person who could show up and just make me smile with her presence. Even on the worst of days, even during the shittiest of times, she could do that.

  So why not?

  Because I knew as the clock ticked to two minutes away, with no text, call, or notice otherwise, she wasn’t going to show up.

  It was a shame, too. I could have used something good happening in my life for once. The way the past week and a half had gone… it would’ve been nice. I supposed at least once I left and didn’t have to worry about her, I could just move on, not give a fuck, and find it in me to stop acting like a little bitch. We were all allowed down periods, but not ones extending past two weeks.

  Six-fifty-nine hit. I looked out, hoping that every car that pulled up might be hers. I looked into the window of every vehicle, but I never saw her face. I accepted that, once again, Cassie had left me behind without warning. Should have known.

  I kept my eyes glued to my phone. Seven hit. I told myself to get out of my seat, to move my feet to my bike, and to vow never to communicate with Cassie again. Mama could handle any business with her as needed. I’d stick to my rule about her not interfering with my life, and I wouldn’t interfere with hers. It was simple, and what we needed.

  I opened my clock app and saw that there were ten seconds to a minute past.

  “Fuck it,” I said, standing up.

  I headed for the exit when the door swung without me expecting it.

  Cassie stood there, a nervous smile plastered on her beautiful, awful face.

  “You’re late again,” I growled. “I guess that’s a step up from never showing up.”

  Cassie hurriedly grabbed her phone, unlocked it, and showed it to me. Just as it came into view, the timer switched from 7 to 7:01 p.m.

  “I’m not late, I’m on time,” Cassie said. “I wouldn’t leave you late. Not after…”

  Her words drifted off. I didn’t feel the need to bring them back up, not yet, at least.

  “You like pushing your luck, huh?”

  The words themselves were meant as a playful taunt, nothing more. It probably didn’t help matters that Cassie returned my gaze with a smile, a smile that made me smile too. I felt a warm rush inside—I hadn’t seen that genuine smile under full light in years. We’d spent so much time together at night and under the guise of darkness that I’d forgotten just how much her smile could make me happy and cheerful.

  “I don’t believe in pushing my luck,” she said finally. “I believe in making things happen. I was going to show up on time, and I did.”

  “By about three seconds.”

  “Last I heard, you didn’t say I had to be here at exactly seven,” she said. “Just at seven. And here I am, bud.”

  That was another part of Cassie I missed. Many girls were afraid to give me crap; that was true even before I got into the Savage Saints, though it was especially true now. But Cassie not only seemed completely unfazed by my presence, but she also seemed to relish in mocking it, as if she weren’t scared in the slightest by it. It was, frankly, sexy.

  “Here you are,” I said. “Just like the good old days.”

  “Indeed,” Cassie said, motioning for me to sit down.

  I did so without hesitation.

  “The good old days, back in the simpler times, huh?” Cassie said. “The days when we were just high school sweethearts, two kids who had the world ahead of them.”

  “And now look at us,” I said with a chuckle. “I’m a biker asshole, and you’re a burlesque dancer.”

  We both shared a sweet chuckle at that. I couldn’t believe I was calling it sweet, but the way our gaze settled onto each other…

  This is just for her to tell you everything that’s happened. There’s nothing here that’s romantic or erotic.

  Except, well…

  “It’s not too late for us, though,” Cassie said. “However, it is getting late for me to get a coffee. Would you mind if I…?”

  “Not at all,” I said.

  She stood up and walked past me. I swore for a split second she was going to touch my shoulder—she had her hand out as if thinking about it—but she pulled back right when she could have. Maybe it was something having to do with it being too soon, or maybe she was trying to fight her instincts. Maybe it was just nothing, and I was reading too much into it.

  One thing I could never read enough, though, was how beautiful she was. Obviously, in the bright lights of the Starbucks cafe, I could easily see her curly blonde hair, her curves, and her skin as I had before, but here, it was a little different. Now, with better lighting, I could make things out that made Cassie, well, Cassie.

  Like, for example, how she had a tendency to play with one particular curl on the left side of her hair. How, whenever she smiled, she squinted her eyes much harder than most people would. Or how whenever she laughed, she tilted her head back.

  Even something as small as a simple mole on her neck was something I wouldn’t have seen that well in the dark but could now see. Individually, they were simply characteristics that were nice but didn’t necessarily translate into anything more. But together, they created Cassie Erickson, and damn if I didn't appreciate what was there.

  It almost made me feel guilty that, since she’d returned, I’d slept with two club bunnies. I felt bad about that, but more because I had wasted sex on someone that I didn’t give two shits about, not because I worried Cassie would somehow get jealous. Fifteen years had passed, not fifteen days; I was sure she had seen and slept with other people.

  Even if thinking about it made me a little jealous.

  She returned with an iced green tea and sat across from me, crossing one leg on top of the other under her white skirt.

  “I guess it wasn’t too late for you to get tea, huh?” I said.

  “Yeah, I decided coffee this late might be bad, especially since I’m not working,” she said, showing off that eye-squinting smile. “I figured tea would give me enough energy to hang out with you, but not so much that it’ll be four in the morning again and I won’t be able to sleep.”

  “Speak for yourself,” I said with a laugh. “If you think I’m going to bed before then, you’re crazy.”

  “Hah, cute,” she said. “Just like in high school. You’d dare me to stay up until one in the morning.”

  “And you’d fight back, saying you had to study so you could someday become a lawyer.”

  “And you’d say something corny as hell, like ‘I’ll rest your defense’ or something ridiculous like that.”

  This easy banter, the kind that was very surface-level but also very enjoyable, came surprisingly naturally to both of us. Maybe we’d gotten the “tough reunion” part out of the way early, or maybe there was just a certain desire to keep things easy, knowing a hard conversation was coming later.

  But for the next half hour, that hard conversation never came. I felt the tension in the room drop as we both spent less time worrying about the hard conversation to come and more on the moment. To be sure, the tension never dissipated; I had questions that could not be ignored forever.

  It was nice, though, to have the feeling of being on a real date again, even if this wasn’t a real date. It couldn’t be a real date. Not with how everything had ended before.
/>   After half an hour, with only a little bit of time remaining before the Starbucks closed, I knew that we couldn’t just let the night die here. I also knew that my request, if worded improperly, might sound like asking her out on a date. I enjoyed my time with Cassie, but I did not want to give her any wrong impression.

  “You know, we can keep talking somewhere else,” I said. “We could go to one of the bars downtown if you’d like.”

  “On a Tuesday night? Tsk tsk,” Cassie said with a smirk. “Yeah, why not? This is fun, catching up.”

  It’s fun. It’s flirtatious. It’s dangerous.

  And it’s not something I want to stop. Even if my logical voice is telling me that you’re bad for it.

  I should go to the club party tonight. I can fuck a different girl, get my mind off of Cassie, and then we can pick up tomorrow afternoon.

  Except we know how well that worked last time.

  “Fuck it, let’s go.”

  “Fuck it?” Cassie said, although her smile was disarming. “I didn’t realize this was so painful for you as to say fuck it.”

  “Nah, not painful at all,” I said. Though it may yet be. “It’s more like I could go back to the club and do one of the Saints parties, but I’m not feeling that right now. You know? I’d rather… yeah, let’s go downtown.”

  Cassie got a knowing smile on her face. I knew that smile all too well—it was the smile that showed she knew I had almost let my guard down, and she enjoyed it.

  You’re walking a dangerous line here, buddy.

  I hope it pays off.

  * * *

  It being a Tuesday night, the Downtown Cocktail Room in Las Vegas was not that crowded. The Strip would have been a massive shitshow, even on a weekday night, but I wasn’t looking for shitshow. I wasn’t looking to take Cassie on a romp through Las Vegas where we’d do all sorts of things. I just wanted to talk.

  Just, huh?

  I found a table around the corner for us where we were seated pretty close to each other, not so close that we were bumping legs or hips without trying, but certainly, the kind of table where we could lean across from each other and…

  I cleared my throat as I sat down with my Moscow Mule. Cassie sat across from me, sipping on some Cabernet.

  “You been here before?” I said.

  “Have not,” she said. “I don’t get out much.”

  That’s a shame.

  “I’m surprised,” I said. “I’d think that with the kind of money you make and the way some of the girls party, you’d want to go out more.”

  “Not all of us are here for the nightlife, Brett,” she said.

  Brett. It was still weird to hear my real name used. I didn’t think she’d used it yet tonight, and hearing it was just… it was another reminder that I had once not been Barber, I had once not been a rugged asshole with MMA and knife training; I had just been a jock in high school who had a girl he loved.

  A girl who was now before him… but who had also changed and who had left me behind. And who, based on what little conversation I had had, was going to leave Las Vegas eventually anyway if she was still in pursuit of her lawyer career.

  I supposed—

  Fuck, seriously?

  I looked to my right casually, not thinking anything of it, only to see BK walking in with a woman I presumed was his girlfriend. BK either didn’t notice me or he ignored me, but I could not ignore the scowl that crossed over my face. This was supposed to be a chance to learn more about the past and catch up with Cassie, and instead, I was now suddenly confronted with a reminder that I had failed at my job here.

  “What’s wrong?” Cassie said.

  “Nothing,” I growled, but I knew she was aware I was bullshitting. I could hide things like no one else in the club, but I was really bad at hiding the fact that I was hiding things.

  “Who was that guy?” Cassie asked.

  “Nothing of concern; it’s fine.”

  “Brett—”

  “I said it’s fine,” I said as I downed my drink quickly. “Where were we?”

  Cassie bit her lip, took a sip of her wine, and sighed.

  “Nightlife,” she said, but it wasn’t a topic that she seemed especially enthused about. I knew I’d put a dent in the conversation by playing coy; it wasn’t a great look to have Cassie agree to open up about the past when I was avoiding some topics myself.

  “Ahh, you haven’t done it much, you said?”

  “No,” she said.

  Our conversation had hit a lull. I saw BK stand up to go to the bar. Just as I had needed Cassie to talk to me, I needed to speak to BK about things.

  “I’m gonna go get another drink,” I said, realizing too the opportunity to hit the reset button on our night here at Downtown Cocktail Room. “I’ll be back.”

  I didn’t give Cassie the chance to say anything as I headed for the bar. BK was the only one there, and I saddled up next to him. He didn’t turn to face me, but I knew better than to think that he didn’t notice me.

  “What the hell are you doing in my town?” I said, looking at him as I leaned my right arm on the bar.

  “Having a drink,” he said.

  He didn’t add anything else to it. Goddamn, this was frustrating—I guessed this was what it felt like to be stonewalled but it sure didn’t fucking feel good, and I sure as shit was pretty sure I never pushed people away to this degree. This was just ridiculous.

  “That is not why you’re here, and you know that,” I said. “I mean why are you at my club?”

  “Your boss asked someone to come. My boss asked me to go.”

  Silence.

  The bartender looked at both of us nervously and looked over his shoulder. I knew full well he was looking at the bouncer, but between the three of us, the bouncer was the most likely to get his ass kicked if shit went down.

  “I know damn well about that,” I said. “But let me make one thing clear, BK. Burger King, whatever the fuck you are.”

  “It’s Burke Kyle,” he said. “And I’m a Marine.”

  Oh. Well, that’s cool. I just disrespected a veteran.

  “Don’t take my job, and we won’t have a problem,” I said, trying to keep my tone even-keeled so it wouldn’t devolve into further violence.

  “Don’t suck at your job, and we won’t have a problem.”

  The only reason I didn’t punch him and start a brawl right there was because Cassie was only about a dozen feet away. If she weren’t there, and I’d heard that line, I would have socked him, and we would have broken this bar in half.

  Instead, I turned to the bartender, added a shot to my order, and downed it as BK left with two drinks.

  Well, fuck me to tears. The reminders of my inadequacy both as a man—with Cassie—and as a sergeant-at-arms—with BK—were now following me wherever I went. You going to take this shit lying down? Or are you going to buck up and enjoy yourself?

  I ordered one more shot before I headed back to Cassie, who was texting on her phone.

  “I thought you’d left,” she said. “Getting revenge for what happened fifteen years ago.”

  “What?” I said, but I was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. “A pretty girl like you? I wouldn’t want no revenge.”

  Cassie’s eyes widened, but then that squint with a smile came. I knew I was playing a dangerous game, flirting with her, but you know what?

  I wanted to be dangerous. I’d had too much shit going on in my world. I needed to play with danger a bit.

  Who gave a fuck about the consequences, right? It wasn’t like shit was going to get much worse. Might as well indulge in a few drinks and see what would happen next.

  Chapter 6: Cassie

  I think both of us would be lying if we didn’t say, in the back of our minds, that we knew the chance for this to turn into some sort of flirtatious date was possible.

  We hadn’t broken up because of a lost love or because we’d outgrown each other. We’d broken up because I’d had to run.

&
nbsp; Of course, we had both changed in the years since, but as soon as I started talking to him in Starbucks and he had that easygoing, playful demeanor that I knew still existed, I knew that I still liked him. He still had the youthful, vibrant Brett in him; he just needed some coaxing to come out.

  Now, sitting across from him, as he moved further into the booth, I began to see he felt the same way about me. I had concerns after the way that he had suddenly seemed to lurch onto me after a moment of brief anger, but right now, I was just getting swept up in the moment. I told myself not to let myself get too carried away, but, well, every time he put his hand on my shoulder, my arm, or my thigh, it was like electricity surging through my body.

  I just had to make sure I didn’t short-circuit from an overload of feelings. And I had to make sure that I didn’t lead Brett on too much.

  What if this was a mistake? Brett was getting drunker by the second; what if he wasn’t thinking rationally and was headed down a path that would end badly? What if, in the morning, he woke up regretting revealing so much?

  And I hadn’t even discussed yet why I had left in the first place. That had just… I’d deliberately kept the conversation light, knowing that if it were that way, it would be harder to tell the truth. The truth was far too heavy just to be casually brought up in a conversation like this.

  But I felt bad for him. Being with him was both a punishment and a penance; it was the deal with the devil, if you will. I got to hang with the only man who made me feel a certain way, but I would have the constant, persistent reminder that it was my actions that would ensure we’d never be more than friends. Even if we got close and he forgave me, I was going to law school, and I didn’t see Brett moving on with me.

  Still…

  What’s one time?

  “You know,” Brett said, about thirty minutes into the more flirtatious conversation, by now about half a dozen or so drinks deep. “I always thought about you. You’re the only girl who can make me smile like so.”

  “Aww, Brett,” I said, feeling both warmed to the core and very nervous for where this was headed. “You’re nice too. But we should be—”