by Gemma Weir
“You ever worked in a bar?” she questions excitedly.
I nod cautiously. “Erm, yeah, I worked in my local pub years ago. Why?”
A huge smile lights up her face and she claps enthusiastically. “Problem solved then. You can work here.”
I sit up and reply. “I can’t work here.”
“Why not?” Brandi questions.
Echo’s attention moves from Brandi and slowly turns to me. “Yeah, why not, sugar?”
“I’m here on a tourist visa. I can’t work, unfortunately. Well, at least not legally, and jail is so not part of the great American adventure.”
Echo reaches out and his fingertips gently pinch my chin, tilting my face up to his. “You wanna work here, sugar?”
His touch is distracting, but I force myself to focus and shrug dismissively. “I’d love to work here. God, the money would be amazing, but like I said, tourist visa.”
His touch leaves my skin and his perfect face breaks into a breathtaking smile. “Okay, you’re hired.”
Bereft from the loss of his touch, I snap, “Echo, you can’t just say I’m hired. It’s against the law. I could be arrested. You could be arrested. Plus, you can’t just give me a job; I’m fairly sure whoever owns the bar might have something to say about that.”
Echo leans against the bar, relaxed. “Fuck, sugar, take a breath. The club owns the bar, so if you want the job, it’s yours.”
“What club?”
A dimple pops in his cheek, and I stare at it. What would he do if I licked it?
“The Doomsday Sinners MC.”
I laugh loudly. It takes me a second to realise he’s frowning.
“What’s so fucking funny, Olivia?”
“Are you seriously trying to tell me that this bar’s owned by a biker club?” I ask incredulously.
Echo’s beautiful face falls into a scowl. “Careful, sugar. Yes, the club owns the bar.”
I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. “What, like Sons of Anarchy?”
Echo nods once, muttering quietly, “Fucking bullshit TV show.”
Saliva lodges in my throat. When I finally find my voice, it’s small and unsure. “So an actual, real motorcycle club?”
Annoyance is clear on his face, and his gruff voice turns serious. “The Sinners are very fucking real, sugar.”
“And you’re a member?”
He barks out the one word response. “Yes.”
“Well, fuck.”
She’s getting ready to run. I can see the fear in her eyes that wasn’t there a minute ago. Fuck, I can’t help but love the way she’s looking at me, like she’s not sure if she should run away from me or straight into my arms.
I want this girl in my bed, and her working for the club is the easiest way to make that happen.
“Olivia.” I touch her cheek, but she flinches and backs away from my touch. “Sugar, calm down. The club owns a few businesses in town. Strikers is just one of them.”
She rubs her hands over her face, muttering under her breath about not being able to write this kind of shit, and I can’t take me eyes off her.
A few seconds later, she looks up, opens her mouth, and then closes it again. She fidgets on her stool, crossing and uncrossing her legs before she finally speaks. “I want to say yes, but what about my visa? If I get caught working illegally, I’ll get arrested and deported.”
Olivia’s big blue eyes are messing with my brain. Something about her makes me want to help her. I want to promise her that everything’s going to be okay, that I’m gonna make everything okay for her.
Pulling at my hair, I force my fucked-up protective instincts out of my mind. I throw Olivia a cocky smirk. “Sugar, things run a little differently here in Archer’s Creek. You and that fine ass of yours don’t need to worry about the police or working under the table without a visa. If you’re working for the club, we’ll make sure the sheriff doesn’t bother you.”
I can see the reluctance on her face, and I watch the myriad of emotions pass across her features while she thinks over my offer.
Cupping her chin lightly, I wait for her to look at me. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” I hold my breath and fight the urge to pull her into my arms and kiss her till she agrees.
There’s just something about this fucking woman. I can’t take my eyes off her.
I can practically see her thinking. Her trusting blue eyes search my face to see if I’m telling the truth, and then she nods and surprises the hell out of me. “Okay, why the fuck not? Let’s add working for an MC to my CV. When do you want me to start?”
I wasn’t expecting her to agree, but I can’t dull the bright smile that covers my face at the thought of her staying. Olivia working at the club’s bar is perfect, at least until I’ve fucked her senseless and got rid of all these messed-up feelings she’s provoking.
Fucking her is exactly what I need to do. It doesn’t matter that she makes my heart bang in my chest in a way that’s freaking me the fuck out. It doesn’t matter, that I’m forcing myself to walk away from her right now, because if I don’t, the urge to sit and watch her perfect fucking ass sway as she works will keep me frozen to the spot.
Fuck, what’s wrong with me?
Echo left, and an hour later, I’m behind the bar wearing a Strikers tank top and staring into space. A hand touches my shoulder, and I squeal and jump.
“Sorry, doll, just thought I’d check on you.” Brandi’s infectious enthusiasm a welcome change from Echo’s charged intensity.
Once I’d accepted the job, Brandi quickly showed me the ropes and then left me to serve customers. The bar has finally quietened down, and it looks like it’s time to get to know my new co-worker.
“You’re from England, right?”
I laugh at the question I’ve been asked a thousand times since I got to the US and nod. “Yes.”
Brandi props her hip against the wooden bar. “So were you only going to El Paso for the free ride?”
I shrug. “No. Texas was always on my list of must-see states. It’s just a happy coincidence that’s where the ride was.”
“So no boyfriend waiting on you? The guy in the band?”
I shake my head and chuckle. “No, I’m off men.”
She pulls over a stool and points for me to sit before hoisting herself up onto the bar. “Okay, so no men. You on women now?” she asks matter-of-factly.
I laugh. “No, not moved on to the fairer sex, just taking a break from men for a while.”
”Hmm…” She raises her eyebrows. “That sounds like there’s a story.”
It’s been a long time since I’ve had a girly gossip, and Brandi’s so instantly likable. I shuffle, getting comfy on my stool. “My ex decided that I wasn’t for him, that he preferred my best friend.”
She gasps, her whole body pulling back in outrage. “What a bitch! I hope you slapped the shit out of both of them.”
I laugh. “James, my best friend, really isn’t that much of a bitch, and no, I didn’t hit either of them.”
She slaps her hand across her mouth, her eyebrows lifting almost to her hairline. “Your boyfriend cheated on you with your best friend, a guy?”
I nod.
She jumps down. Her arm wraps around me, and I’m pulled into an unexpected hug. My head’s squashed against her shoulder; it’s a little weird, so I pat her back awkwardly.
Pulling myself from her grip, I step back to regain some personal space. “It’s okay. I was pissed at the time, but I’m over it now. The three of us are actually really close.”
“No wonder you’re off men. You’re probably terrified you’ll turn the next one gay too,” she says, and then slaps a hand across her mouth. Her eyes widen and her shoulders hunch as she pulls in an embarrassed breath. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. That came out all wrong.”
The giggle that escapes me quickly morphs into a full belly laugh. I laugh so hard tears roll down my face. I pull in a deep, cleansing breath and fan my red cheeks
with my hands, swallowing the laugh that’s still trying to escape. It takes a few moments before I can finally speak. “How did you end up working here, Brandi?”
Brandi’s cheeks are stained red with embarrassment. “I’ve been around the club my whole life, and Sleaze gave me the job here.”
“Sleaze?”
Her eyes turn dreamy, and a serene smile spreads over her face before she finally speaks. “Yeah, my man. He’s in the club with Echo.”
I lean forward, suddenly much more interested in our conversation. “So it’s an actual biker club?”
She giggles. “Oh, sweetie, you’re so cute. Yes, it’s a real biker club. Don’t they have MCs in England?”
“Not that I know of. I mean, maybe, but I’ve never seen any. Bloody hell, if they do and the members all look like Echo, I’m going to track them down and ask to join,” I blurt quickly.
Brandi laughs, smiling. “Everyone in Archer’s Creek knows the club, but the guys keep to themselves. It’s probably the same with MCs in England.”
“So how long have you and Sleaze been together?”
“Since I was sixteen. My daddy was a Sinner, but he and my momma didn’t really get on, so she tried to keep me away. She moved us out of Texas hoping that my dad wouldn’t come visit.” Laughing lightly, she smiles fondly before continuing. “My daddy came to see me every other weekend. My momma hated it. Then one time he brought a prospect with him. Sleaze was twenty-one, and I was fifteen. I was head over heels for him from the moment I set eyes on him, but he barely spoke to me. He came with my daddy every single time he visited for almost a year till I turned sixteen. On my birthday, he kissed me, told me that I was his forever, and that was it. We’ve been together ever since.” Brandi blushes, lost for a moment in a memory.
“Wow.”
My voice startles her. Looking up, she smiles serenely. “A Sinner man is a force to be reckoned with. Once they fall for a woman, they fall hard and fast. They might be bikers, but they’re good men.”
Dubious and a little confused, I ask, “So they’re not criminals, like the bikers on those TV shows.”
“Goodness me, Liv, those bikers on the TV might be hot, but that’s not real life. The club, it’s more like a family. They have their own set of rules. They’re loyal to the club, to each other, and the ride free way of life.”
After pausing for a moment, I ask, “So what’s Echo’s story then?”
Brandi smiles at me, eyeing me knowingly. “I don’t know much really. He turned up at the club one day straight out of the army, still in his uniform, and just never left.”
The door opens and Echo strides in, his long legs eating up the distance to the bar. The air seems to thicken, and all eyes turn to him as he moves through the room. Every woman in the place sees him. They push out their tits and flick their hair, desperate for his attention.
His eyes search the room, then pin me to the spot. My nipples pebble, my stomach clenching with excited awareness.
God, he makes me want to throw myself at him. Does he have that effect on everyone?
When he reaches me, he slips effortlessly onto a stool and leans over the bar, his tattooed fingers tapping against the wood. “How’s it going, sugar?”
I fold my arms across my chest, hoping to hide my hard nipples. “Good thanks, what can I get you?”
He reaches forward and his fingers wrap around my arm and stroke my wrist. Pulling my hand from my body, he gently circles the pulse point. “I’ll have a beer please. And you. Grab yourself a drink and get your ass around here and come visit with me a minute.”
I slide a bottle of beer across the bar, and he grabs it. “Where’s yours?”
I’m saved from replying when a woman slinks up to him. She pushes her breasts against his arm, her red nails tiptoe over his leather waistcoat, and she leans over to whisper into his ear. I can’t hear what she says, but Echo responds and her face pales. Snarling, he brushes her hand off him, and she quickly scurries away.
“Brandi, Olivia’s taking her break now,” he shouts. His eyes dare me to disagree. Instead, I grab myself a beer and walk around to his side of the bar.
“Sit.” Standing, he motions for me to take his seat before pulling up another stool and positioning it close to mine. Resting his elbow on the bar, he turns his huge body towards me. “How you liking Strikers so far?”
I laugh lightly. “It’s going great. I haven’t broken a thing yet.”
His smile is beautiful, and I instantly smile back at him. He lifts the bottle to his mouth and takes a drink of his beer. A drop of liquid pools on his lower lip, and mesmerized, I stare until his tongue dips out and licks it away.
His voice pulls my attention. “So you’re travelling? How long you been out in the States for?”
I scoff. “Travelling—it sounds so cliché, doesn’t it? I’ve been here nearly three months now. Time’s flown by, and there’s still so many things to see.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Where have you been so far?”
Pulling the elastic band from my hair, I run my hands through the curls. “God, so many places. I started off in New York, but it wasn’t for me, so I didn’t stay long. Then I went to Miami, Orlando, Chicago, New Orleans, and a few others. I’ve moved about a lot.”
“Why didn’t you like New York?”
I sigh and look down at my shorts, pulling at the frayed threads that hang from the bottom. “It was too big. Too full. I’ve never felt more alone than I did in a city that’s so full of people. New York is where I always imagined I’d fit in, but instead, it’s where I realised I’ve been pretending to be something I’m not for years.”
His eyes soften in understanding. “I’m not a big-city boy either. Too many corners, too many places to hide. Have you been on your own the whole time?”
“Yep.” I nod. “I worked hard to fund my trip, and I really don’t have that long here, so I wanted to go wherever I pleased. I’ve had to use free rides and favours from friends of friends where I could, because, God, it’s so expensive out here. But I’d rather be on my own than waste my time on someone else’s schedule.”
I glance down when his hand moves to my thigh. His fingers spread wide across my skin, his touch possessive. I raise my head, and our gazes clash. Intensity flares in his eyes. “What made you decide to go travelling?” he asks.
I take a long pull of my beer and sigh. “I was floundering at home. Crappy job, living with my parents. Everyone else was getting on with their lives, and I was just… not. I needed to escape and have an adventure before the chance passed me by. You know what I mean?”
When he nods, it’s like he completely understands. “So where’s home in the UK?”
“I grew up near Manchester in a small town out in the country. But right now, I’m not sure where home is.”
His thumb strokes back and forth over my leg and goosebumps pebble on my skin. “So what do your boyfriend and your friends and family think of your adventure?”
“My parents were ecstatic. They sold the house and bought a Winnebago before I’d even packed my bags. They said they’d just been waiting for me to move out so they could enjoy their retirement. Last time I spoke to them, they were touring eastern Europe,” I say on a laugh.
Our bodies face each other, and like a magnet, I’m drawn to him. Echo pulls his hand from my thigh, and I feel our connection break. I tremble and fight my impulse to beg him for his touch.
“And your boyfriend?” he asks, his eyes narrowed.
I shake my head. “No boyfriend, not for a while. My friends were shocked though. They didn’t see me as the backpacking type.”
His hand moves back to my thigh, and warmth radiates through my whole body.
“Why not?”
I push out a long sigh and look down at my ripped denim shorts, Converse, and T-shirt. “This isn’t who I was back home.” A loose curl falls across my face, and Echo reaches for it, pulling gently then tucking it behind my ear.
“So who wer
e you then, sugar?”
I can’t seem to take my eyes off his hands. Tattoos cover the fronts and swirl down to the words etched across his knuckles. His touch is intimate—too intimate for someone he just met. I force my eyes up to lock with his, and potent chemistry crackles between us.
“Different,” I whisper.
Suddenly, I’m stifled by his presence; I need to get away from him. Finishing my beer, I slide off the stool. “I should get back to work.”
His head tilts to the side like he’s trying to figure me out. “There’s a party at the club tonight. You’ll come.”
He’s not asking. He’s telling me, and I nod.
“See you soon, Olivia.” He stares at me intently for a moment then walks away.
I see her.
Watching him.
She’s so beautiful.
So innocent.
I want her.
But she’s becoming tainted.
I see the stains of impurity bleeding across her skin.
I can save her.
But it’s not time yet.
Until then, I’ll watch.
I watch Echo leave and stare at the door long after he’s gone. My racing heart gradually slows, and I scoff at myself.
“Well, hello there, darlin’. You’re a new face, ain’t ya?”
Pulling my eyes from the door, I focus on the new voice and who it belongs to. He’s older than the other guys in the bar, maybe in his sixties or even seventies with a warm, weathered face and mischievous eyes.
“Hi, I’m Olivia.” I hold my hand out across the bar, and he takes it in a firm shake.
“Well hello, Miss Olivia, I’m Gus. It’s always a pleasure to meet a beautiful young lady,” he says with a wink.
I chuckle. “You’re a charmer, aren’t you, Gus?”
The sound of his deep laugh wraps around me. “It’s been a long while since anyone’s called me a charmer, sweetheart. I’ll have a beer, please.”
As customers flow in and out of Strikers, Gus sits at the bar chatting and drinking while I work. “So, Miss Olivia, where are you from in the UK?”
