by Cathryn Cade
Lindi and Kit were both giggling by the time she finished. Sara made a prim face at them. “What’re you laughing at? So I’m a biker bitch now.”
“She used to work in the office of the County Prosecutor in Coeur d’Alene,” Kit told Lesa. “Dressed like Princess Grace, and acted like her too. Now she’s a wild-ass biker pres’s first old lady. Way more fun.”
Sara turned to Lesa. “But back to why we’re here. We haven’t even really introduced ourselves. You know I’m with Stick, right? Well, he and I met last summer, after which he fucked me and then kicked me publicly out of his club. I had to educate him on the way to treat a woman—after I saved the twins from being kidnapped at gunpoint by a sicko who was going to trade them to a rival biker club in the Tri, for ransom.”
Lesa gasped. “Oh, my God. That really happened to you and the boys?”
Kit nodded. “It did. And as for me, I’m with Keys and Remi. They’re both nomad, and we live over in Coeur d’Alene. I nearly got kidnapped by one of the Flyers, and my guys shrouded me up in the woods with them—”
“She means secluded her,” Lindi said.
“Right,” Kit agreed. “So I fell in love with both of them, and the three of us are crazy happy now.”
“Holy crap,” Lesa breathed. “You’re with two bikers?” She could barely handle one.
Kit giggled. "I know, right?"
“And my story is, I met Jack when he kidnapped me because he thought I was a total sleaze-bag’s girlfriend,” Lindi said, so matter-of-factly that Lesa blinked rapidly, trying to process her words. “But really, I was with his brother, until the sleaze-bag murdered him. So, Jack and I fell in love, and he’s building a supper-club next to my cafe, right on Coeur d’Alene Lake.”
They all sipped their drinks and looked at Lesa expectantly. She brushed back a stray curl, her mind whirling as she struggled to process these astonishing stories.
“O-kay,” she said slowly. “I guess Pete forcing me to pretend I embezzled from this place instead of his former hookup doing so—and then basically kidnapping me to his house in the country, isn’t any more outrageous than your stories.”
“Not really,” Lindi agreed, her eyes twinkling.
“He forced you to stay out there? But then you made up and had lots of sex, right?” Kit asked, her eyes wide. “Please say yes. You two are so-oo hawt together.”
Lesa blushed, fiery heat covering her face and throat. She took a long, cooling drink, which was when she discovered Streak or Pete had floated her Coke on top of at least a full shot of whiskey. She coughed, then upended the glass and drained it, letting the alcohol burn down her throat and hopefully through the confusion swirling in her right now.
Lindi giggled. “And there’s our answer. Awesome.”
“Awesome indeed,” Sara agreed.
“Totally awesome,” Kit breathed. “This is so cool. We need to get together—girls’ night out!” She threw her hands in the air and danced in her seat. Her friends laughed.
“Our girls’ nights are fun,” Lindi said.
“There’s a party at the club house this Saturday night,” Sara said. “That will be a great start.”
“Have Pete bring you,” Kit agreed. “Or if he has to work here, you come without him. Club house parties are epic!”
Sara and Lindi looked at each other and laughed. “Especially if there’s jello salad.”
“You’re never gonna let Velvet live that down, are you?” Kit grinned.
“No!” they chorused.
Lesa watched a large group of people forge in through the front doors, wearing snow-mobile suits, with wind-burned faces.
“Great to meet you all,” she said, sliding out of the booth. “But I really need to get back to work. Do you want more drinks, or something to eat?”
“We’re good,” Sara assured her. “But you be at the club house Saturday night, okay? No need to bring anything. There’ll be food and drinks a-plenty”
“Okay, thanks,” Lesa found herself agreeing. “I’ll ask for early shift that day.” Because they were nice women, and now that she had time and emotional space, she missed her sisters and her friends, especially Rosa.
With a chorus of good-byes, she got back to work, and the three women rose and wound their way to the bar—to tease Streak, if his bashful grin was any indication. The next time she looked, they were gone.
“So, you’re coming to the party too, right?” Lesa asked Sylvie when they met at the service station. She handed Sylvie the glasses she’d just filled with ice water, and filled some more for her own new customers. “Since you worked so hard to get me there.”
Sylvie winked. “You bet. Wouldn’t miss it. Those boys know how to throw a party.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
February 10th
Friday morning, Lesa’s car was ready. In fact, Streak delivered it to Pete’s house, then lingered to grab a ride back into town with Pete. Lesa fed him a big breakfast, gave him a bag of cookies—and a hug, because hey, she liked making him blush.
She drove herself into town, marveling at the way her car’s motor purred away the miles. It shifted smoothly, too, and she could swear the upholstery had been cleaned, and the paint detailed.
She was in such a good mood she went shopping.
The grocery store had a small floral section. Most of the arrangements were more than she cared to spend, but one, composed of red and white carnations and red glitter hearts, had three broken blossoms, so the price had been slashed, probably because the harried-looking clerk was too busy creating more bouquets to fix this one.
Lesa bought it, along with a packet of red hearta and a cheap vinyl tablecloth.
When she arrived at the Hangar, Pete was off in the brewery. The door into that area was open, and she could hear deep voices and metal clanging.
Humming to herself along with the country song on the sound system, she got to work. The bouquet was not difficult to fix. She tucked the broken, shorter stems in the front and fluffed out the rest to hide the empty spaces.
“That’s pretty,” Maggie approved when she saw it. “This place can use a woman’s touch. Where you gonna put it?”
“Probably not on the bar,” Lesa said wryly. “It would end up in the trash. I was thinking on the tee-shirt display case. That way everyone will notice the tees and beer glasses, and maybe the guys will remember to buy their wives or girlfriends some flowers.”
Maggie snorted. “Yeah, most guys can use all the clues they can get, right? My man doesn’t remember unless I tape an ad to his forehead.”
Lesa spread out the red table cloth, draping it casually over the glass top to the display case, then sprinkled the small, metallic hearts around. She sprinkled some inside on the tees and around the glasses, too.
She was just putting the finishing touches on her arrangement when booted footsteps sounded behind her. Good, Pete could see what she’d done to create seasonal interest for their customers. Hands on her hips, she turned with an expectant smile.
Pete, T-Bear, Rocker, Knife and Cooter stood there.
“What the hell is that?” Pete demanded.
Instead of doing as she wanted, which was slapping her hands on her hips and giving a huff of disgust, Lesa smiled—with lots of teeth.
“It's a floral display,” she said. “Better known as Valentines Day décor. You may have heard of the romantic holiday? It will soon be here.”
“Of course I’ve heard of it, and I know flowers when I see ‘em, woman. But what the fuck are those glittery things all over my shirts and beer glasses?”
Sheesh. He was such a guy. “They’re hearts,” she snapped. “They add a light-hearted motif to the romantic aspect.”
Rocker lifted a hand to cover his mouth, his eyes twinkling over it. T-Bear rocked back on his huge, black biker boots, shaggy head cocked as he studied the display. Cooter and Knife looked skeptical.
Pete threw out his arms in a gesture that encompassed the bar and restaurant. “Does th
is look like the kind of place where the customers care about girly, foo-foo shit like Valentines?”
Lesa narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes. It does. Everyone appreciates a touch of seasonal romance, even bikers.”
The Flyers’ heads turned to Pete, like they were watching a tennis match, for crying out loud.
“No,” he told her with an evil smirk, “Romantic decor for bikers would be you wearing one of those real low-cut, heart-shaped neckline tops with a lace bra peekin’ out. You wanna be seasonal, make it red. Although, you got a heart-shaped ass too, so a tight, red skirt would work just as well.”
“Hoo-yah!” Cooter agreed.
Knife hmmed his agreement, nodding. “I’m seein’ that could work.”
T-Bear and Rocker wisely said nothing, although they grinned at her.
Lesa growled under her breath. Pete’s smirk said he knew exactly how hard she was fighting the urge to do so aloud. Although, why should she hold back? This was a biker bar. And it wasn’t like she had anything to lose. As soon as Ivan’s promised reference was in her hand, she had choices.
Which, if she was honest with herself, would mean she stayed right here. But she didn’t have to, if Pete wasn’t nice to her.Although he’d certainly been nice to her first thing this morning. The man did love his wake-up sex.
“Only if you’ll wear a pair of red Lycra running tights, Brews,” she said sweetly. “So we can all ogle the area closest to your big … heart. We all know where that resides.” She gave a pointed look to his groin.
T-Bear guffawed, and Rocker chuckled.
Pete leaned toward her. “You talkin’ about my big dick, or my big balls, moye?”
Lesa’s face heated, but she ignored this. “I think our patrons can live without seeing either of those."
“She don’t wanna see your ass, but I do.” Knife waggled a brow at Pete. “It’s kinda cute. Got me thinkin’ you and me should get together.”
Cooter threw back his head and hooted with laughter, and the other men joined in.
Pete moved behind Lesa, his hands on her waist, her back against his front. “Knife’s always had a thing for me, even when I was underage,” he told her. “You will protect me, won’t you, milaya?”
She should be accustomed by now to the simultaneous urges to elbow him in the gut and melt against him like warm chocolate sauce. But turnabout was fair play.
She leaned back against him, snuggling her ass into his groin.
“He is kinda cute,” she told the guys. “But you see, Pete has special needs, a partner who takes charge, if you know what I mean.” She sighed. “I get so tired of spanking him every time.”
Pete stiffened, and his grip on her hips tightened. But her sweet victory was extremely short-lived. Because another part of him was stiffening too. A long, hard shape prodded into the crease of her ass-cheeks.
“Holy shee-it,” Knife breathed, his eyes lighting up. “I’d pay good money to see you in action, sweet thang.”
Cooter grabbed himself and groaned. “You can spank my ass, mama. How ‘bout tonight?”
“What?” Lesa scowled at them, hands on her hips. “I was joking!”
Rocker just shook his head, grinning at her as the others guffawed.
And behind her, Pete laughed with them, the deep sound vibrating through her.
“Word to the wise, never try to shock a biker.” He stepped back just far enough to smack her ass. “Now get back to work, woman.”
The slap of his broad, hard palm was loud, and it stung. Lesa flinched. “Ow! That hurt.”
This made the men laugh even harder, and Pete grin smugly. She gave them all a glower, tossed her hair and stalked away.
Even Maggie cracked a smile as Lesa rubbed her bottom behind the cover of the service station, where Pete could not see.
“For a woman who says she doesn’t want any biker attention, you sure know how to get it,” she said dryly.
Lesa opened her mouth and then closed it. She gave Maggie wide eyes. “I’m gonna stop, I swear.”
Maggie looked her over. “Lookin’ like that? Right. You just keep tellin’ yourself that.”
Then she sauntered away to take care of a table of customers, leaving Lesa standing alone.
Lesa tucked her chin and peered down at herself. Okay, so she was wearing her cute knee-high boots, and her skirt was a little shorter than she usually wore … and maybe her long-sleeved tee was snug, but that was because it had indeed shrunk in the dryer.
“Hey, pretty girl, can we get some service over here?” called a man from a nearby table.
Lesa pasted a smile on her face and hurried over. “You bet. What can I get started for you gentlemen?”
“Something with hearts on it,” he said, and he and his friend cracked up like middle school boys.
“How about beer and burgers instead?”
“That’ll work,” one of them managed through his chortling, and the other nodded, wiping his eyes.
“You want cheese on those to go with your humor?” she asked, smiling at them.
“Sure.”
She walked away, shaking her head as Rocker winked at her from the bar. Men. Pete better watch out, or he would not be getting any private after-party tonight.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
February 11th
Saturday afternoon, as the Hangar was at its busiest, Pete waylaid Lesa, swinging her into the office and out of sight of the pub behind the door.
“What?” she demanded, even as she arched into him, her body reacting predictably to his nearness.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ll tell you what. You should rethink comin’ to the club house tonight. This ain’t gonna be one of the family barbecues, like we have in nice weather. Gonna be the brothers, friends of the club, and lots of alcohol, and pot smoking goin’ on. Things are guaranteed to get raunchy, prob’ly be some strippers from State Line there. You sure you’re in for that?”
“Don’t you want me there?” she asked, searching his face, as hurt panged through her.
He gave her a swift kiss. “Yeah, I want you there, so quit that shit. I’m just warning you, things could get outta hand. ‘Course if they do, you can always hide out in one of the back rooms, with me.”
The way he rolled his lean hips into her left no doubt what activities they’d do there.
“Hmm,” she said, pursing her lips. “I might. Depends how nice you are to me for the rest of my shift.”
“Oh, I’ll be nice,” he promised, cupping her breasts in his hands. “All right then. You and me will head over at ten o’clock. Maggie’s off early too, 'cause her man will be there. Streak and T will close.”
She widened her eyes at him, even as her nipples tightened with need under his knowing hands. “You’re leaving here early—and on a Saturday night? Somebody alert the media.”
“Smart-ass.” He gave her a swift kiss, and let her go, then reached down to adjust himself in his jeans. “Just for that, I’m definitely showing you a back room at the club.”
She ducked out of his way, grinning. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
He groaned. “Go on back to work, moye. I need a minute.”
She walked back out into the pub, knowing she was smiling like a fool, but not caring. Pete followed her a few minutes later, and shook his head at her as he passed the service station on his way to the bar. But he did it smiling as well.
“Whass up with Vanko?” asked a rough, unfamiliar voice behind Lesa. She stiffened as another, also unfamiliar voice answered.
“Off-hand I’d say he’s gettin’ him some from his new barmaid there.”
The first biker grunted. “I’d do that piece. I like a nice armful.”
“Well, you better check if she's his exclusive-like. Those boys don’t share their toys.”
The heat of indignation firing under her skin, Lesa turned on her heel, ready to tell the new arrivals what she thought of their crap-tastic attitude toward women.
They were both bikers, wearing
Flyers’ cuts, but she didn’t know either the skinny gray haired one or the fat one with bushy red hair. They disappeared along the short hallway that led to the men’s room.
Lesa walked to the bar. Pete was busy with customers. “Who are those guys?” she asked Streak. “The Flyers that were playing pool with Rocker and T-Bear.”
“They’re from Seattle,” Streak said with a hooded glance toward the restrooms. “Hook and Laser. Just came in for a meet. Stay clear of ‘em, yeah? And if you can’t do that, you let ‘em know you’re with the boss.”
She snorted. “Oh, don’t worry, they know.” She’d gotten that much from their crude remarks.
Streak looked at her, and she flushed. Right, so did everyone else, the way she and Pete were behaving. Maybe she should just wear a sandwich board that said, ‘Hey! I’m sleeping with my hot boss—and yes, I know this shows I have questionable judgment!’
“So, what’s up with Javier?” she asked brightly. “Did he play in the big snow over our days off?”
Streak’s grin widened, and he whipped out his phone. “He did. That’s me and him sledding. And here’s one of us eating snow—off the top of my rig, so it was clean.”
Lesa chuckled at the cute pictures. Hard to say which of the two, father or son, looked like they were having more fun. “So sweet. Oops, here come a bunch of folks. Better get to work.”
Happily for her, she did not have bar side, so didn’t have to serve the pool-playing bikers. But it wasn’t a real busy night, so she had time to keep an eye on them, and note that Sylvie was tight-lipped and narrow eyed after being near the two newcomers. She also saw Pete, scowling, head their way, saw Rocker intercept him and walk with Pete back to the brewery, and close the door.
Pete came out a while later, looking like thunder. Lesa instinctively started toward him, but he met her gaze and shook his head. Then he turned back toward the bar, and got busy helping Streak. Okay, then. He didn’t want to talk? Fine with her.
