With that, I stalk out of the room they were using to patch him up, across the main area of the club, and out the door to my bike. I ignore Sparrow trying to stop me. After jumping on my bike, I gun the engine as I make my way out of the compound and head home.
Chapter Three
Hadley
Lying on the carpet in my living room with a bottle of tequila between us, Storm and I brainstorm ideas on how I can earn a living and survive. As I look around my apartment, I wonder if I should just pack it all up and head back to Louisiana. My people are there, James, Devon, and little Casey. I have a home with people who love me and a great job waiting for me. While I stare at a framed picture of the four of us, my heart aches to see them again.
When I left, I told Devon all about my dream—to own and operate my own tattoo parlor—and she gave me her full support even though she never could understand why I had to leave to accomplish that dream. This’s exactly why I left. If I had stayed at home with them, I would always have a safety net. There would always be somewhere safe for me to run, and although I love them and will always be grateful to them, it’s time to stand on my own two feet.
It’s been four long years since I left home. Four years of struggling to make ends meet and working shitty jobs, and although I would love nothing more than to run home, I won’t.
Knowing I don’t have a huge skill set and I barely finished high school, I can’t afford to be picky about a job. The drunker we get, the clearer my only two options are and neither are very appealing to me.
Option one: Storm can get me a job where she works. Storm strips at a place called From Dusk ’til Dawn but we just call it Dusk. She’s really fucking good at her job and earns a mint, especially doing bachelor parties and such. But me? I’m not comfortable enough with who I am and what I look like to actually get my ass naked on stage.
So that leaves me with option two. Waitressing. Again. The problem with waitressing at Dusk is the same as it was at my previous job. I fucking hate being groped by any man, but especially by the drunk and stupid kind. And bikers. Dusk is one of those places that gets frequented by bikers, especially since Dusk is under club protection from one of the local clubs. Again, bikers terrify me. Knowing they’re there, even if it is to offer protection, scares the ever-loving shit out of me.
Storm continues trying to coerce me into working with her at Dusk. “But we have bouncers at the club. Hell, I basically never get groped and I walk around naked most of the time. It’ll be fine. Maurice doesn’t really care what you wear long as you have on your staff t-shirt and a smile. He looks out for all of his girls and he really is a nice guy. I’ve worked at a lot of worse places so I should know.”
My expression is vacant as I stare at her.
She simply continues. “Yes, I know how you feel about bikers. But I promise you on my life and our friendship that you have nothing to worry about. The guys are great and if you would just get to know them, you would see it too.”
Leaning back against the couch, I take a nice big swig of the tequila—straight from the bottle—and listen to the music filtering through my stereo. I think about it and the song rings true in more ways than one. Life has made a monster of me and this is what I have left. Looking toward Storm, I nod my head.
She jumps off the floor and grabs me, wrapping me up in a hug while jumping and squealing at the same time. After grabbing the bottle of tequila from my hand, she gulps down a huge mouthful before handing it back to me.
“You have made me so extremely happy. I can’t believe we're gonna work together. This is gonna be so much fun. Now if I can get you to let me put some streaks of blue through your hair, my year would be made.”
Glaring at her, I say nothing. For a minute, silence reigns and then we both burst out laughing.
****
With a hangover that cannot be beaten, we go into Dusk at three the following day. Training takes about half an hour. There isn’t much to learn and there isn’t a menu to memorize. Just as I am about to leave, Maurice walks up to me, tilts his head to the left, and smiles.
“Girl, are you sure you ain’t in the market to be a dancer? Just askin’ ’cuz you got an ass that a man could bounce a coin off.”
Maurice’s Cajun accent flows over me. For a large black man, he has a real soothing voice. He’s an intimidating figure when you first meet him. Broad shoulders and a barrel chest with a clean-shaven head. He looks like he could snap me in two with a flick of his wrist but, within five minutes of meeting him, I realized he’s a big old softy. Especially with his wife Celine.
I laugh and blush slightly at the weird compliment. “No thanks, Maurice. I’m fine keeping my clothes on.”
“Well, if you ever change your mind, be sure to let me know. I’ll give you a nice prime spot and you’ll be raking in the cash, girl. I can promise you that.”
Smiling at his back as he walks away, I’m grateful I agreed to this gig. This is a job I could definitely enjoy.
Time passes quickly and soon Dusk will be opening for the evening. My first shift starts tomorrow as I still need some training on the cash register. After saying goodbye to Storm and Maurice, I head out for the evening.
Not having a car sucks and is definitely a priority, but at least I don’t live too far from Dusk, so the walk isn’t that bad. The only problem is I constantly feel like I’m being watched. Numerous times I look around, but there’s never anyone there. Deciding to write it off as paranoia, I keep moving. Half an hour later, I crawl into bed, and not having to worry about anything, I drift off into a fitful sleep.
****
My time is filled with shifts and friends. I’ve been working at Dusk for almost a week now and have met most of the girls at the club. I’m really surprised by how well we get along. The only person I don’t get along with is Cherry. It would seem that in her mind, she’s the main attraction and expects everyone to fall in line with her wishes. She’s an utter bitch toward me at every opportunity. Obviously, there will always be one or two people who want to rock the boat and make life difficult, but having decided that I love my new job, I choose to completely ignore her.
The tips are rolling in and I haven’t had this much money since well, ever. My spirits are high and I even allowed Storm to put blue streaks into my hair this morning. Even though I doubted how it would look, I really am satisfied with the outcome. My hair looks great and everyone keeps paying me compliments. Standing at the service bar, I hear a loud squeal from one of the girls.
Turning, I see a large group of bikers walk through the front door and take a seat in one of the other girl’s booths. Looking around, I search for Storm. I spot her and watch as she smiles at a large, redheaded biker before he leans down to kiss her cheek. Even from this distance, I swear I can hear her swoon.
Squinting my eyes, I’m able to recognize the Gypsy Bastards patch on his back, and though I fail to recognize the man wearing it, the familiar patch has me relaxing.
Over the past week, I’ve met some of the members of the Gypsy Bastards MC and true to Storm’s word, they are great guys. Most of them have tried to hit on me but none have made me feel uncomfortable. The moment I tell them I’m not interested, they back off and leave me be, automatically starting to treat me like a sister. They are genuinely great guys.
Heading back to the bar, I wait on my order. After grabbing the drinks, I make to turn around when a large body presses mine up against the bar. Right away, panic threatens to overwhelm me but the voice in my ear instantly calms me.
“Gonna give me one of your special hugs tonight, sugar?”
“Damn it, Viking.” I turn in his arms and push against his chest. “I could have dropped that whole order. Can’t you announce yourself or something? You are way too quiet for a guy your size.”
Throwing his head back, he pulls my face to his chest as a belly laugh pours from him. He hugs me to him tightly like I imagine my father would if he were still alive and I wrap my arms around his middle.
/> “I love scaring you, doll, that’s why I do it.”
“You’re an ass.”
The affection in my tone is unmistakable. How did I get caught up with bikers again? How can I care for someone like Viking as much as I do? I know what bikers are like and what they do for a living. As the thoughts circle in my brain, I can clearly remember how I ended up in this situation.
The day I met Viking, I almost died. Not literally, but I was scared out of my mind. He simply walked up to me and slung his arm around my shoulder.
“Hey, pretty girl. Why don’t you relax a little and smile at an old man?”
The smile I pasted on must have been horrible because it made him laugh until tears poured down his face.
“Girlie, my name is Viking.” Pausing for a breath, he smiled down at me. “You need to relax. Not one person in here is going to give you any shit and if they do, you call me.”
Staring up at him with wide eyes, the only thought running through my mind was that I didn’t do bikers. I didn’t talk to bikers, I didn’t hang out with bikers, and I definitely didn’t trust bikers.
“I don’t sleep around.” The words popped from my mouth before I had the chance to stop them. Viking looked at me with an intensity I didn’t understand.
“The last thing I want from you is sex. You remind me of my daughter. Let’s you and me make a deal.”
He paused for a moment, as though expecting an answer. Not knowing what he wanted from me, I nodded.
“When you see me, get me a drink and make some small talk. Smile a genuine smile for me, and I’ll always have your back.”
Staring up at him, I realized what he was doing. He could see how uncomfortable I was in my own skin and he was simply trying to be my friend. A genuine smile spread across my face.
Turning to collect the drink order now, I hear Viking chuckle again. The memory fills my heart to overflowing.
“You have a good shift, sugar.” Giving me a slap on the ass that causes me to yelp, he strides away with a grin on his face. He has never made a move or tried to get me into bed, and I appreciate that more than he knows.
The club gets busy and the music pumps through the speakers. Time flies and by the time I realize it, Storm gets called to the stage. I don’t have time to watch her show, but I do catch a glimpse of the biker she hugged earlier, and he looks like he might get on stage and carry her off.
Of all the men sitting at his table, I only know Viking and Sparrow. Sparrow spends a lot of time at Dusk helping Maurice with the books, but tonight is the first time I have actually seen him socializing. He is an extremely attractive man of Hispanic heritage. But he’s also married with a kid, Gabe, so for the most part, the girls avoid him.
Turning away, I make my way back to the bar to collect another round of drinks and when I look up, I meet the stormy eyes of a giant man. Tall, at least six-two, if not taller, lean but not skinny, with blond hair that hangs down to brush his shoulders and eyes a gray that you only see on storm clouds. Basically, he’s beautiful with a roughness to him that makes me tingle all over, and not in a bad way.
He’s got black shitkickers with blue jeans encasing his muscular thighs, and a plain black t-shirt that molds to every muscle in his torso. He wears a cut and on his left breast is the enforcer tag, showing him to be one of the members of his club that would be the most prone to violence. His hands are calloused and a shiver runs up my spine as I imagine him using them on me. A strong jaw and a nose that has clearly been broken before add to his rugged handsomeness.
While staring at this insanely hot specimen of male perfection, I watch him look me over, twice, and then a frown appears on his face. He shakes his head as if to clear it and then looks at a Sparrow next to him, says something I can’t quite make out, and strides out of the club. Assuming he didn’t find the view as appealing as I did, I smile at the Sparrow and continue to work.
Three hours later, Dusk closes for the night. My feet ache but my smile never fades. Everyone is still cashing out but since I’m done, I decide to go outside for a smoke.
I stand against the wall a little way from the door and light the smoke, inhaling deeply. I don’t usually smoke but always have a pack of menthols with me for when the craving hits. Kicking off my heels, I stand with my bare feet on the pavement, savoring the feel. Standing there in the pre-morning silence, I’m simply happy to be alive. I love my new job, my rent is paid in full, and tomorrow I can go get my daddy’s 1967 Pontiac GTO from the mechanic.
The transmission conked out a while back and I never could afford to get it fixed. But that’s all in the past and I will have my baby back. Walking everywhere I want to be will finally be a thing of the past.
The door to Dusk opens before Storm and the redheaded biker walk out, followed shortly by what seems to be at least ten other Gypsy Bastards members. Laughter fills the air as Storm talks a mile a minute, and for a moment, I simply watch them interact. Storm has a wide smile spread across her face, as do some of the guys. Jealousy envelops me and again I wish I were more like her. To be able to overcome my fears and interact normally with those around me would be a dream come true.
“Pretty girl!”
The sound of Viking’s booming voice can be heard clear across the parking lot.
“Join us for the after-party?”
Already he has his arm slung—once again—around my shoulder as he leads me to where the motorcycles are parked.
“I can’t party with you, old man.” Slipping from beneath his arm, I can’t help but smirk at him.
In an exaggerated gesture, he clutches at his chest. “You wound me, woman. My fragile ego can barely handle you not wanting to drink with me. But calling me old? That’s just mean.”
Laughter surrounds us as the guys watch our interaction.
“Aww, don’t worry.” Playfully, I pet his cheek. “Although you are old, you’re still handsome. And me? Not drinking with you is a matter of survival. I most definitely cannot drink the way you are all about to.”
The snort from behind Viking’s back has me glaring around him at Storm. With a raised eyebrow, she defends herself.
“I can drink more than most men that show up at Dusk and you have drunk me under the table every single time.”
“See?” Viking’s voice is filled with victory. “Come on, pretty girl. Tomorrow is Sunday. No work. Ride with me?”
Shaking my head and laughing, I hook my arm through his as we make our way over to his motorcycle. After strapping on a helmet, I mount his bike and hold on tight. Tonight, I take back being me. Tonight, I start living my life by putting my fear behind me, and the first step to doing that is going to the clubhouse.
Chapter Four
Wolf
After walking through the kitchen, I take a seat on my back porch, just watching the sun set and enjoying a beer, I think back on how the day went exactly as I had it planned. I had enough time to finish the custom paint job on a 1977 Confederate Edition Harley Davidson for a customer at the shop and I can honestly say I’m looking forward to showing the end product to him tomorrow.
Sparrow’s old lady, Luna, stopped by the shop for lunch with their four-year-old son Gage and some kick-ass pulled pork sandwiches for Sparrow and me. Gage is a carbon cut out of his daddy and follows him everywhere, trying to do everything he does. Some days I sit and watch Gage and I wonder if my little Rose would have looked more like Amber or myself.
Those are the hard days, days where I have to convince myself that life is worth living and remind myself to put one foot in front of the other. My club helps me through those days even though most don’t even know it. I carry an immense gratefulness that I’ll never be able to fully verbalize.
Deep in thought about bikes and kids and life in general, it takes a moment for me to realize my cell is ringing in the house. After lifting myself out of the deck chair, I make my way inside.
“What’s up?” I answer without hesitation, seeing on the caller ID that the President of m
y club is calling.
“Wolf, how about a beer, brother?” Pope replies in that smooth Irish accent that seems to make the ladies lose their underwear and their inhibitions.
Laughing, I answer his question with another question. “Dusk?”
“Yeah, brother, where else would we be headed then?”
“Complete crew?”
“Absolutely, everyone could use one after this fucker of a couple of weeks,” he replies solemnly.
“Great, I’ll meet you all there in about an hour?”
“Good on you brother.”
And that ends the call. Pope enjoys going to Dusk occasionally, but that would be purely to see Storm, although he denies it every chance he gets. Old man needs to own up to that shit and lock that woman down. Anyone with eyes can see how bad they got it for each other, and whether it’s just chemistry or something more, no one knows. What I do know is that he always says he’ll never lay a finger on her. Something about having his chance and blowing it. Whatever the fuck that means.
Heading into the house, I return the steak to the fridge. It will keep until tomorrow and tonight is for drinking. After making my way up the stairs of my three-bedroom house, I head directly to the shower. Standing under the spray, I lather up my hair, and after rinsing, I let the water cascade down my back and bring forth the memory I want.
The memory of my past life and love get me to where I want to be in mere moments. My cock is rock hard as I take it in hand. With a firm grip, I move from root to tip and back down again, using a rhythm I’ve grown accustomed to. A ripple runs across my abs as they contract from the pleasure. My thighs tense as I hold back for as long as I can. Squeezing harder and moving my hand faster, the pleasure soon overwhelms me. Sooner than I like, I feel the familiar tingling sensation move down the column of my spine and into my tightly drawn-up balls before exploding.
The Wolf Page 2
