by Violet Blaze
“Gone?” I echo in a violent snarl. “What do you mean gone?”
Lyric sucks in a deep breath and closes her eyes.
“I've decided that I need to make a change. I don't know what that is, but I'm giving myself until Monday to figure it out. I can't just keep living the same, easy, boring life I've always led. And,” she starts before I jump in with my two cents, “I can't just give up all of my dreams on a whim. Come Monday, I'll be on a plane to D.C. … or I'll be at the courthouse with you.”
I stand there, struck completely dumb for several seconds.
“You serious?” I ask, because that's all I feel like I can say without yelling. “You're … on Monday, you're gonna hightail it and run?”
Lyric shakes her head, short hair getting stuck to her lips. She swipes it away and gives me a serious look, one that oddly enough reminds me of Dober. No nonsense. No bullshit.
“I'm not running. I'm committing. One way or the other. But either way, I'm going to try to help out with the cartel.”
“Yeah? By smuggling some extra assault rifles over the border?”
Lyric purses her lips at my sarcastic tone.
“By talking to Agent Shelley. By getting intel. By seeing what strings I can pull behind the scenes. If I have my way, you won't be riding off gallantly into the sunset on your bike to fight a losing war. Why strike the cartel yourselves when the FBI is ready and willing to do it?”
I raise both my brows at her.
“You're feeding information to the FBI?” I snarl as I lean in close, whispering harsh over her shoulder. “You better be shitting me, love.”
“I'm not telling them anything, Royal.” Lyric leans away from me, giving me a look like she's disgusted with my behavior. “What the hell kind of person do you think I am?”
“'s not like you didn't do it before,” I snap and immediately regret the words as her face tightens up. Fuck me. If I have less than a week to win this girl's heart forever, I'd best stop acting like a fuckin' prat.
Lyric makes to stand up, but I reach out and take her upper arm, holding her in a gentle grip, letting her decide if she wants to be held there. She pauses and gives me a look.
“That was a stupid question. I'm a bloody idiot,” I say as I let go and she crosses her legs, curling her hands together atop the knee. Lyric looks down at her knuckles for a moment and then back up at me, eyes darkening with emotion.
“I love you,” she says and my breath hitches. I bet some of the guys are looking at me like I'm a silly poof, but fuck them. If they don't get this, this intense need to hold and love and protect this woman, then they can go screw themselves. I've never felt anything like this in my entire life, and I'm not going to let go easily. “More than … anyone.” There's a long pause there as we both process that information. Holy hell. “But I've spent my life trying to please everyone else, all the while telling myself that that was what I wanted. This time, I have to make this decision for me. For us, really, because if I stayed here and ended up hating myself for it, it'd make both our lives a living hell.”
I nod my chin briskly, but there's so much emotion in me right now … I want to fucking pummel something—or somebody.
My lip curls as Glacier appears at my side and smiles big at Lyric. She smiles weakly back at him, watching as he swirls a lolly around in his mouth and draws it out, holding the big red pop in inked up fingers.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, and I can't help it—I take some of my anger out on him.
“I don't know, Saint. Did I interrupt something between you and Serenity in the bar?”
The look he gives me is cold hell. It feels like it could burn me up inside and kill me.
Glacier flicks the piercings in his lip with his tongue and snorts, rubbing his fist along his jaw.
“What about Serenity? I've barely looked at her.”
My turn to snort as Lyric slides off the table to stand next to me, reaching out to touch my arm. I realize then that I'm quivering. Part of me wants to jerk away from her touch, but I can't move right now or I might punch Saint, just to relieve some of the intensity coursing through me.
I figured things could get rough with Pint-Size and me, but when she took my sister's ring, when she said all of that crap about being a lawyer or a judge … I let myself believe I could really have her as my wife.
Bleeding hell.
“Never mind,” I snap before the blond haired demon in front of me breaks. Because I've seen that before and it's not something I'd like to be a party to. I want to believe that I could kick Glacier's ass, but there's also a chance the wanker would try to fight me to the death. Best not to spook the bloke and see what happens. Could be an experiment in disaster. “We have a lot of work to do,” I say as I start to walk away and Lyric lets her hand drop by her side. “Are you coming back for the party tonight?” I ask over my shoulder, feeling this emotional canyon open up between us, this giant gaping arse hole that makes me want to kill somebody.
She nods and I turn away again, heading back up the steps and into the clubhouse.
Five days to convince a woman that what we have is more important than a glamorous career in politics.
Well, fuck. I'm just going to have to work my ass off then, aren't I?
The parking lot is full when I pull back into the compound later that evening.
When I'd stopped by earlier, I'd brought my riding clothes with me, fully intending to stay on the property with Royal and change there. But after our shitty talk, all I could think about was getting the hell out of there. I spent the rest of the afternoon waffling between two extremes, telling myself that if I really loved Royal, I'd give up everything to be with him. And then on the other hand, how silly it would be to give up all of my dreams, risk them on an outlaw that I've known for all of two and a half weeks.
At least I feel like I look good, dressed in tight leather and sporting some ridiculously naughty knickers (as Royal would call them) under my outfit. My makeup is thick and dark—a smoky eye and red, red lips. Not my usual style, but what the hell? There are about five times as many bikers here as there were last time I was at a party on the Wolves' compound. And last time, I was just the mayor's daughter with a space bubble, somebody everyone else was avoiding. This time, I imagine that a lot of eyes will be on me—if not because I'm dating … engaged to Royal then because of what happened on Monday night.
I park my keyed up, bullet hole sprayed Chrysler 300 in the lot for Wolf Cycle Service and Repair because all the other spaces, the ones I usually park in, are taken up by motorcycles. Row after row of bikes gleam wet and shiny under the industrial lights that cover the compound, eating up every nook and cranny of shadow or secrecy in this place.
Lights are strung between the umbrellas and the deck, the roof of the clubhouse, and there are people everywhere. They spill out onto the deck in leather vests covered in patches, all of them featuring a snarling wolf's face and the words Alpha Wolves MC. The only difference between them are the locations. Even from back here, I can make out Portland, OR and Seattle, WA on some of the guys standing outside.
I take a deep breath and run my hands down the quilted panels on the front of my jacket, starting across the lot in a pair of heels instead of my riding boots. I hemmed and hawed about that choice for about an hour, wondering if I was truly losing it or if the difference really mattered. I decided I didn't care, that I wanted to feel sexy for Royal, and put the stupid heels on.
Now, tromping across glossy wet pavement in a pair of red stilettos that I bought for a Halloween costume once, I feel kind of ridiculous.
When several eyes turn and focus on me, they don't look like they find me ridiculous at all.
I don't stop walking, weaving between motorcycles as big as I am and towards the red-brown steps of the deck, sliding my hand along the smooth, wet surface of the bannister as I make my way toward the door. I don't particularly enjoy being checked out, not like some girls—I know Kailey eats up the attention
—but it doesn't bother me either. I'm neutral toward it.
There's only one man whose opinion I care about.
I move into the warm interior of the clubhouse, rock music blaring in the background, the sound of male voices mixing with bursts of loud, feminine laughter. Besides being more packed than it was last time, this party looks almost identical to the first one—right down to the pairs of naked boobs I've seen bouncing along already.
But there is one huge difference.
I was right; everyone is looking at me.
At first, it's mostly just guys from the Trinidad chapter, but as soon as they spot me, news spreads among them and then it's all eyes, a strange sort of murmuring hush trailing me as I head down the hallway with my shoulders back, the leather pants feeling a million times too tight all of a sudden. I tell myself that it's because it's hot as all hell in here, but maybe I'm just feeling a little self-conscious with everyone looking at me like they're not sure what to make of me.
I manage to spot Janae before I find Royal, and breathe out a sigh of relief, picking my way toward her and a table of other old ladies in the back, near the hallway that leads to the kitchen.
“I didn't know you were going to be here tonight,” I say as Janae gets up and … gives me a hug? She squeezes me tight and pulls back, flashing a smile for the other women at the table, managing to look cute with her hair and makeup done. It's curved over one shoulder just so to hide the white bandage on her ear. “How's Glinda doing?”
“She gets to head home tomorrow, but I'm going to get her set up at my place for a little while. I didn't want to leave her tonight, but she practically forced me to come.” Janae leans in to whisper in my ear. “She thought you might need backup.”
I smile as Janae pulls away and holds her hand out to gesture at the other women, introducing them one by one. I met most of them at the barbecue, but I've got to admit, the atmosphere in the room feels a hell of a lot different now. I am surprised to see Serenity sitting in the corner, arms crossed over her chest, completely unfazed by the numerous pairs of naked breasts and questionable adult situations dispersed throughout the room. I guess if she was raised in all of this, it might seem normal. Still weirds me out a little. It's such a … carnal bacchanalia in here that it's hard to take it all in.
“Can I get you a drink?” Janae asks, pointing over at the bar. I follow the direction of her finger, wishing Fauna were behind that counter again. Even I miss her presence and I barely know her. “I'm heading over there anyway. I can't stand these parties without a little Scotch in my system.”
I nod and watch as she walks away, scanning the room for Royal.
“If you're looking for the pres,” Serenity says with a small smile, tossing some of her blond hair over one shoulder, “you're going to be looking for a while. Everyone wants a piece of him tonight it seems. Have a seat.” She gestures for me to sit next to her, scooting her chair over so I can squeeze in.
“It feels a little subdued in here, doesn't it?” I ask as I survey the crowd. I mean, I sensed a little bit of that last time—probably because of the whole Landon situation—but this time, it's even worse. There are a few guys, probably from out of town, who genuinely seem to be enjoying themselves, but everyone else just looks like they're trying too hard.
“Besides the obvious,” Serenity says with a small sigh, blue eyes glancing down at the surface of the table as she picks at it with her nails, “they're probably a little edgy because of tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?” I ask and her gaze flicks up to my face. There's a moment of hesitation before she leans in close to me.
“They're going into the woods to hunt down any grow houses or suppliers that don't belong to the club. I guess they figure if that one house was up there, there could be more. They're trying to ferret out any Mile Wide or Saldaña members that might be lurking around.”
I raise both brows, wondering where she got her information from. As if she can sense what I'm thinking, Serenity smiles at me, lips shiny with gloss. She looks terribly young against the backdrop of the red and black striped wall, like a golden haired angel in skull and crossbones tights. I can't help wondering how old she is. Sixteen? Seventeen?
“Some of the guys … they grew up with me around, so they don't really look at me as much of a threat.” There's a long pause and a low sigh, like she's thinking about something else entirely. “They don't think of me as much of anything really. Sometimes when I'm hanging around here, I hear things.”
She breathes out long and low through her nose as Janae reappears, holding out a tumbler of amber liquid toward me with a smile and gesturing with her chin at the bar.
“A few of the guys said they remembered the mayor's daughter liked her Johnnie Walker.” I raise my brows in surprise and look over in that direction, remembering a few semi-familiar faces. Ah. From when I sat there in my skintight red dress and chugged shot after shot. I guess that wasn't a terrible first impression to leave on a bunch of bikers, huh?
“Thanks, Janae,” I say as she takes a seat across from me, leaning back with a sigh. “What do you guys do at these things anyway? It looks like a lot of male posturing and girl groping to me.” I try not to purse my lips when I say that, but I think I do anyway. I can handle my own in here, but … this is not my culture. It will never be my culture.
Strike one against a life with Royal.
I sip my drink and close my eyes against the warm burn of the booze.
When I open them, Janae's staring at me with her dark brown eyes. I notice she's wearing a simple black blouse and jeans with knee-high, high-heeled boots, nothing fancy. But I can tell by the way the other women—even the older ones—look at her that she really is the queen bee around here.
“Drink mostly,” she says with a small laugh and a shake of her head. “Try to suffer through it with a smile on my face.” Her sugary sweet voice seems so out of place in here, but her aura, the way she holds herself, I can tell she's completely at home. “This isn't the hard part of club life,” she tells me, voice getting a little more serious as she studies me with an open expression. I'm not about to get a free-for-all pass from these women for what I've done, but I can see they're going to give me an opening. I figure Dober's already told Janae about my plans for Monday. At least, I hope so. I want her to know, to expect me there, to give me this chance. If I show up, I'll give her a reason to trust me. If I don't, I'll give her and her husband a reason to hate me, to put pressure on Royal, to put another roadblock in my way so I can never come back.
I almost shiver, but manage to bite the expression back with a swig of alcohol.
I don't need to ask what the hard part of club life is; I've seen it firsthand.
“I saw your press conference today,” Serenity tells me and I feel my spine get a little stiff. Ugh. The only part of my day that came close to being as horrible as seeing that expression on Royal's face was dealing with my father at the office. Before the press conference, he was nice because there were cops and reporters everywhere. It was after that that was awful. You'd think a man whose daughter was kidnapped by evil drug cartel thugs and returned safely would be grateful. No such luck with that man. The very fact that I snuck out of the house on Tuesday and didn't come back to see him or my mom makes me some kind of evil devil from hell.
My fingers tighten around the glass in my hand before I throw it all back.
“What'd you think?” I ask as I smile at Serenity. She leans back in her chair and laces her fingers together behind her neck as she smiles at me.
“I thought you were badass,” she says and my smile turns into a grin.
Being a role model for girls like Serenity … seriously big bonus points for a life in politics. I want to be a politician without being a politician, you know? I mean … I always thought that was what I wanted. My throat gets tight and suddenly, it's hard to swallow. How can I make this thing with Royal work? And why do I want it to so goddamn badly?
“You certainly
cut an impressive figure on TV,” Janae says grudgingly, a little of that familiar hesitancy creeping into her voice. She doesn't outright ask if or when I'm going to quit working at the mayor's office, but the implication is there.
“I think I'm going to grab a refill,” I say, lifting my glass up and then rising from my chair.
I pick my way through burly bikers and over to the bar, getting the young guy behind the counter to pour a healthy dose of Johnnie Walker Double Black. I take another sip, letting the warm buzz of alcohol calm my nerves as I slip out of my jacket and toss it over the back of the weird metal bar stool made of bike parts.
I don't bother to sit down though, turning and leaning my elbows against the black stone surface of the bar as I survey the room.
And find Royal stepping in through the archway to the front hall.
Holy crap, he's gorgeous.
He's wearing his usual—dark wash jeans, leather boots, his cut—but it's not his clothes that are turning me on … it's his swagger. He saunters into the room with this sideways smirk, sliding a cigarette between his lips and taking a drag as he lets his dark eyes wander over the crowd. If there's a slight tension in his jaw and shoulders, I doubt many people would notice or care. But I do. I wonder how much of that is my fault and how much has to do with club business?
When his gaze finally swings my way, I feel a sudden violent shiver wrack my body. The intensity of his stare is almost a palpable thing, curling in the air between us like smoke. My chest gets tight, making it hard to breathe. My body reacts to his presence with a wave of lust, my nipples pebbling beneath my purple tank top, my thighs clenching against the spreading warmth between them.
I have no idea why I'm freaking out, just that I am. He just does that to me when he walks into a room I guess.
Bonus point for a life with Royal. No, no, a thousand bonus points for a life with Royal.
I rub a hand down my face as he makes his way straight to me, pausing a scant few inches away, leaving me with zero personal space to gather my thoughts.
