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by Cassie Alexandra

  I hesitated for a second, enjoying the feel of his chest pressing against my back and the heat his body was generating. And, was it my imagination, or was there something hard pressed against my ass?

  “You smell good,” he whispered near my ear. “I think that you’d better free yourself, before I forget why we were doing this.”

  I felt a warm shiver go through me as I imagined his lips on my neck and then other parts of my body.

  “Well?”

  I stomped on his foot with my heel and he let me go, hollering in pain.

  “Oh, my God!” I cried as he bent over to rub the top of his boot. “I’m so sorry!”

  I heard a door slam and then Tank was rushing into the room, shirtless. “What the fuck is going on in here?”

  “Nothing. It’s okay,” said Raptor, putting his foot down.

  “What’s wrong with your foot?” said Tank as Krystal entered the room, adjusting her clothes.

  “I did it,” I said, feeling my face turn red.

  Raptor removed his black boot and then his sock. “But, I forced her into it,” he said, staring down at his foot, which was already bruising up. “Damn, girl, those heels are deadly.”

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated, still feeling horrible. “I did warn you, though.”

  “I know you did.”

  “You did that?” asked Krystal, walking over to get a better look. “How?”

  “I was pretending to attack her and she stopped me,” said Raptor. “Good move, by the way.”

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling sheepishly. “Uh, I really am sorry.”

  He put his sock back on. “It’ll heal. I’ve been through much worse.”

  “Can you walk?” asked Tank.

  He took a couple steps. “Of course. See. Hell, I could probably still kick your ass with it without flinching.”

  Tank snorted. “Yeah, you wish. It doesn’t look so good to me. I’ll go get you a stiff drink. Come on Krystal, walk with me, Babe.”

  “Uh, okay,” she said and looked back at me. “I’ll be right back and then we’ll get going.”

  “Sure,” I said. I turned back to Raptor, who was attempting to put his boot back on. “Do you think I broke anything?”

  “No,” he replied, wincing.

  “Maybe you should have that looked at,” I said, staring at his foot.

  “Seriously, it’s okay, Kitten. Don’t worry about me.”

  I laughed and shook my head.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You keep calling me Kitten.”

  He winked. “What can I say, I like kittens. I especially like it when they curl up around your face, to stay warm. Something tells me I’d like you there, too.”

  “By your face?”

  “On my face.”

  I gasped, my face turning scarlet.

  He laughed. “Sorry, I just love to see you blush, Darlin’.”

  We stared at each other for a few seconds and then I asked him where he was from.

  “I have a house, a few blocks away.”

  “You live there, alone?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why you asking if I live there, alone?”

  “I’m just curious. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I said, noticing the guarded look in his eyes. “I was just making conversation.”

  He relaxed. “Sorry. Yeah, I live alone. Most of the time. Sometimes I take in teens who need a temporary place to stay.”

  I stared at him in surprise. I wasn’t expecting that. “What? You’re kidding?”

  “No. Not at all. I do some volunteering at one of the shelters, in Barnesfied. Sometimes, when they get a little over-run with families, I volunteer my extra bedrooms. Sometimes.”

  “Wow.”

  “Shocked, huh? You shouldn’t judge people, Kitten. I don’t know if I should smile at your surprise or be offended.”

  “I’m sorry. It just seems out of character for a guy in a…motorcycle gang like yours.”

  His eyes hardened. “Most of the guys in our club have families and kids of their own. They’re good people.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Maybe not, but you were stereotyping.”

  I smiled grimly. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

  He sighed. “I lived on the streets most of my life, growing up. My old man was an asshole and kicked me out of the house, when I was thirteen. That’s when Slammer took me in. I owe him my life and I want to make a difference in someone else’s, if I get the chance. Kids aren’t meant to be thrown out like garbage.”

  “Why did your dad kick you out?”

  He was quiet for a few seconds and then sighed. “He used to beat my mom. I tried stopping him one night. He didn’t like it.”

  “So he kicked you out?”

  He grunted. “Yeah, after he beat the hell out of me.”

  My jaw dropped. “That must have been horrible. And you were only thirteen?”

  “An ‘old’ thirteen, believe me.”

  “What happened to your mom?”

  “She ended up in the hospital. When she got out, I heard she packed her bags and disappeared.”

  “She didn’t try to find you?”

  “She knew where I was. I guess she just wanted to run away from everything,” he said. “At least that’s what she put in the letter she left me. She trusted Slammer to watch over me.”

  “She knew him?”

  He stared at his beer. “She used to be a club whore.”

  I sucked in my breath.

  His eyes met mine. “It wasn’t for this club. A different one. The one my dad belonged to.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say so I waited for him to continue.

  “After she got pregnant with me, he took her in and made her his Old Lady. I don’t think he wanted to, though. It’s probably why he was such an asshole to her.”

  “He was an asshole to you, too, though. And you were his son.”

  He smirked. “Guess he didn’t want a son, either.”

  I almost missed the look of pain in his eyes because it disappeared so quickly. “So, Slammer took you in?”

  “Yep.” He smiled. “He’s definitely the shit and I’d do anything for him. Made me his Road Captain, a few years ago.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m in charge of trips,” he said. “Among other things.”

  I stared at the small patches on the front of his black leather cut. “What does that one-percent stand for?”

  He looked down. “It’s symbolizes something the club believes in.”

  “And what is that?” I asked, when he didn’t elaborate.

  “Have you ever heard anyone use the term, outlaw biker?”

  “Outlaw? No.” My eyes widened. “Is there a warrant out for you arrest or something?”

  “No.” He scratched his chin and chucked. “At least, I hope not.”

  “I still don’t get what the one-percent stands for and what it has to do with being an outlaw.”

  It took him a while to answer. “It means that we’re committed to standing behind our brothers and living the biker lifestyle. Our laws aren’t exactly the same ones that the other ninety-nine percent follow. Because of that, we’re often labeled as being outlaws.”

  “Oh,” I replied. “You’re basically like a biker-kind-of- mafia?”

  Before he could answer, Tank stepped back into the room with Krystal.

  “You ready to go?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “I’m sending Bull with you,” said Tank. “Make sure you girls aren’t harassed, tonight.”

  “We don’t need a chaperone,” said Krystal. “I already told you that.”

  “This is for protection. It’s not for babysitting you,” he said.

  “I don’t care. I don’t want anyone tagging along. It will be embarrassing,” she said, pouting.

  Tank’s jaw clenched. “Fine. Have it your way.”

  “Don’t be angry,�
�� she said, standing on her tippy-toes to kiss him. “Where we’re going, there won’t be any bikers. Seriously. Plus, Adriana knows self-defense.”

  “She certainly does,” said Raptor, nodding toward his foot. “She can probably take Bull out.”

  Tank grunted. “I doubt that. Fine, Babe. You run into any problems, though, you call me. Pronto.”

  “I will. I promise,” she said, kissing his lips.

  “I’ll walk you out to the car,” said Tank. We’ll go out the back, so those dirt-bags don’t see you leaving.”

  “Okay,” said Krystal, putting her purse around her shoulder. “Ready, Adriana?”

  I nodded.

  “You girls have fun,” said Raptor. “And call me if you change your mind about having that pizza, later, Kitten.”

  Krystal looked at me, her eyebrows raised.

  “Right,” I said, smirking.

  “Let’s go,” said Tank, walking out the door.

  She grabbed my arm as we followed him. “Kitten?” she whispered.

  “Apparently he likes cats.”

  “Bullshit. What he likes is pussy,” said Tank, laughing in front of us.

  Chapter Four

  We arrived at Rumors, a club in Iowa City, about twenty minutes later. The music was loud and the dance-floor, which was the size of a football field, was packed. By the time we found our friends, Monica, Tiffany, and Amber, they were already tipsy.

  “Where’ve you been?” asked Monica, who was a year older than us. “We were getting worried.”

  “We stopped off at Griffin’s,” said Krystal, sliding in next to her. “Tank had to give me his birthday gift.”

  “What was that? A frosted cock?” said Tiffany, who was a nympho, like Krystal. “Did you blow out his candle?”

  “No, I waxed it pretty good, though,” she said, giggling.

  Tiffany laughed. “You go, Girl!”

  “And lucky me. I got to hear the whole thing,” I said dryly. “The walls in that dump are pretty thin.”

  “At least you were able to spend some time with Raptor,” she said. “You have to admit, he’s hot.”

  “Yeah. He’s also a biker, and not the kind who into triathlons. I don’t care how hot a guy like that is, he’s trouble.”

  Krystal leaned forward. “He’s worth the trouble, if you ask me. Speaking of which, I overheard some stuff about the Devil’s Rangers. Remind me to tell you about it.”

  “Like I care about those freaks,” I said, thinking back to Breaker. The nerve of that jerk ordering me around. It left a bad taste in my mouth. As far as I was concerned, I was never going back to Griffin’s.

  A waitress stopped at our table, carrying a tray of shot glasses. “Hi. The guys over there just bought you a round of raspberry-flavored Kamikazes.”

  We turned to look at the table she was talking about. There were four guys smiling at us, all of them looked like they’d just stepped out of GQ Magazine.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” said Tiffany, blowing them a kiss.

  Krystal raised her shot. “Thank you!” she hollered.

  I waved my hand and so did Amber.

  “Aren’t they yummy?” said Tiffany, after we made a toast to Krystal’s birthday and sucked down the delicious concoction. “The guys, I mean.”

  “They’re cute,” I agreed, noticing one of them staring at me. When he saw me looking, he smiled widely, and took a drink of his beer.

  “I’ll bet they’re Frat Boys,” said Tiffany. “We should go over and talk to them.”

  “No. Let them come to us,” said Krystal.

  My eyebrows raised. “Listen to you. What about Tank?”

  She sighed. “You know, to be honest, I’m kind of bored with him.”

  “You didn’t sound too bored, earlier,” I said.

  “I know but… oh look, they’re coming over,” she answered, smiling.

  I turned to find myself staring up at the guy who’d been eyeballing me. He certainly was cute, but for some reason, I wasn’t half as attracted to him as I had been to Raptor, which was kind of weird. Normally, I preferred clean-cut and safe. Raptor was neither.

  “Hi,” he said. “I’m Jason and that’s Gary, Lucas, and Brian.”

  “Thanks for the shots. They were yummy,” said Krystal, staring at Lucas with interest. She introduced us to them.

  Lucas, who was blonde and had dimples, smiled. “No problem. Would you like more?” he asked, reaching for his wallet.

  “That depends - are you trying to get us drunk?” asked Tiffany, smiling slyly.

  Lucas gave her a horrified look. “No. Not at all. I hope you don’t think that.”

  She laughed. “Chill out. I’m just teasing you.”

  He relaxed. “Would you like a soda?”

  “Hell no. I’m here to get drunk!” she shouted, slapping her hand on the table.

  He laughed. “Alrighty, then.”

  I could tell by his expression that he didn’t know what to make of Krystal but was certainly enjoying her cleavage.

  “Where are you girls from?” asked Jason, staring at me intently.

  “Jensen,” I said.

  “All of you?” asked Brian, who was the shortest out of the group, even shorter than me and I was five-seven. He was built like a wrestler, though. All muscle. Even his neck.

  “Yes,” said Krystal. “We all went to high school together.”

  “They sure know how to grow them in Jensen,” said Gary, who looked a little drunk. He was tall, lanky, with big brown eyes and a boyish smile. “Must be the fertilizer.”

  Jason patted Gary on the back. “Excuse our friend, it’s his birthday and we’ve been buying him shots. Quite a few of them.”

  “It’s my birthday, too,” said Krystal, beaming a smile at Gary. “From the look of things, I think I need to try catching up to you!”

  “Hey, happy birthday… what wuss your name again?” asked Gary, trying to focus.

  “Krystal.”

  “Krystal? What a beautiful name. I’ll be you even smell like a flower.” Hi eyes dropped to her chest. “Like a ‘Krystal Of The Valley’.”

  “That’s Lily Of The Valley,” said Jason, shaking his head.

  “Oh, she knows what I mean,” he said, still staring at her chest. “I love them valleys.”

  She laughed. “Looks like you love hills, too.”

  Gary burst out laughing. “That’s right.”

  “Okay, Romeo,” said Brian. “Try to roll your tongue back into your mouth before someone trips over it on the dance floor.”

  Gary ignored him. “Hey. Krystal, the Birthday Girl. Lemme buy you a drink. Waitress!” he hollered, swaying. “Waitress?”

  “Maybe you should let us order it,” said Jason, squeezing his shoulder. “They’ll cut you off if they notice how drunk you are.”

  Gary shrugged him off. “I’m not drunk. Jus’ feeling real good. Come on, Man.”

  “Settle down, Gary,” said Lucas, who’d been pretty quiet up until then.

  “You settle down,” slurred Gary. “You’re embarrassing yourselves.”

  Lucas grunted.

  “So, where are you guys from?” asked Tiffany, trying to divert the conversation.

  “We go to school at I.U.,” said Jason.

  “Iowa University?” asked Monica.

  “Yep,” said Gary, standing up straighter. “We’re frat brothers.”

  “Which fraternity?” I asked. I was currently working on my Associate’s Degree in Accounting, and also attended I.U. I knew how crazy some of those guys could get.

  Gary was about to answer when Brian interrupted. “Aren’t you with Delta Epsilon?” he asked Krystal. “I swear I’ve seen you at one of their rallies.”

  “No,” she answered, smiling brightly. “I’ve already finished school.”

  “She’s a Cosmetologist,” said Monica. “We graduated Waverly Beauty School together.”

  Brian ran a hand over his short, spiky hair. “I might have to
come and visit you soon, then. Which salon do you work at?”

  “Shear Images, over in Jensen,” she replied. “I’d love to do your hair.”

  “I’d love you to ‘do’ my hair,” he said, his smile flirtatious.

  “Why don’t you two just do each other?” said Gary, smiling drunkenly.

  Brian sighed. “Sorry. He’s not usually like this.”

  “Don’t worry,” she answered. “We all have one of those kinds of friends, right Tiffany?”

  Tiffany, who had gotten so drunk, on my birthday, that she’d flashed all of the bartenders at a different club, before puking in the bathroom, smiled and flipped her off.

  “She did get us some free shots, though,” I said, laughing.

  “Exactly,” replied Tiffany. “And I didn’t flash them because I was drunk. I flashed them because one of you dared me.”

  “Yeah, never dare Tiffany anything,” said Monica. “Unless you’re prepared to see it actually happen.”

  “I like brave women. So, what do we get, since we’ve already bought you shots?” asked Gary, now leering at Tiffany’s chest. “A little peek of those peaks?”

  Tiffany looked at me and rolled her eyes.

  I just shook my head and laughed.

  “You sure know how to win over the ladies,” said Jason dryly, taking another drink of his beer.

  “Oh, I’m just having some fun,” he replied. “You know that, right Terry?”

  “It’s Tiffany,” she corrected.

  “That’s right, Tiffany. Hey, waitress!” he said, waving his arms. “Over here!”

  The server made her way over and the guys bought us another round of drinks.

  “I’ll have a Rum and Coke, please,” I told the waitress and then looked at Krystal. “Then I’m done. I’m driving, remember.”

  “We could take a cab,” she said. “Then you don’t have to worry about it.”

  “Or, one of us could drive you home,” said Jason.

  I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. I’m not much of a drinker, anyway.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you looked like that actress, what’s her name…” said Gary, snapping his fingers at me. “Oh, yeah – Eva Longoria?”

  “I tell Adriana that, all the time,” said Krystal. “But she doesn’t believe me.”

  “You do look like her,” agreed Jason. He smiled. “Maybe her younger, prettier sister.”