by Nicole Snow
I didn't want any awkward silences. Had to keep talking, and this time I'd try to focus on what he was telling me. Not just his natural cologne and intoxicating warmth only a few inches away.
“You don't sound real enthused. Are you enjoying this town?”
“Been on the road for a long fucking time. The long runs East and West get old, especially after the winter we just had. Cold enough out in Minnesota to make your Harley stick to your balls, when you can even ride at all. The valleys out here are warmer with more good riding weather. Gotta say, that's pretty fucking attractive right now.”
I laughed. He was crude and coarse, just like I expected. I never thought about bikers wanting a change. Blaze spoke like a true weary soul, and that surprised me.
“They're pretty decent. Better than the Dakotas, anyway. I've been a Missoula girl all my life and the winters are okay in the valleys. It's the mountains you've got to watch out for.”
He shifted, turning to me. “Yeah? What keeps you out here? You've gotta be pretty damned confident or pretty desperate to work at our strip joint.”
I flushed, instantly regretting it when the blood touched my cheek around the damaged eye. Hurt like hell. Time to move the ice pack again.
“I'm just there for the money. It's family that keeps me here. Mom got torn up in a bad accident years ago and I'm the only one who can take care of her.”
He gave me a respectful nod. I wished there were something else keeping me in town besides Mom and near poverty. Even my brother had flown the coop, and thinking about Jordan again made me sad.
“Hey...you know anything about the Grizzlies? I've seen them around town for years and everybody stays out of their way. Just curious.”
“They're sick, greedy fucks.” He slammed his fist lightly on the table. Any harder and I would've jumped, losing the ice pack. “Whole reason we're out here. Fuck, I could tell you some stories about what they did to your boss, that pretty little thing Maverick took under his wing...”
I swallowed hard. It seriously scared me to wonder where Jordan was now, or what he might be doing if he'd gotten involved with the wrong club.
“You'll keep your distance from those assholes if you know what's good for you, Saffron,” he continued. “Consider yourself lucky for taking a fist to the face and nothing else. Their Missoula charter's done much worse. They've done the kind of shit that makes me want to start breaking skulls.”
He flexed his hands on the table and cracked his knuckles for emphasis. It didn't take my full senses to feel the lethal energy coming off him.
Blaze looked me up and down. Then he turned back to his beer and shook his head, a low growl fading in his throat.
“Even what they did to you tonight is too fucking much. Shit's brewing, and it's coming to a head soon. I can feel it in my bones.” He fixed his eyes on me, leaning in closer. “When it finally flies, you stay far away from work, this clubhouse, and everywhere else that isn't a Missoula suburb. You understand me, baby?”
Cold fear swept up my back. I nodded.
Nothing else was an option with the way he was looking at me, concern shining in his dark eyes. I only hoped it wouldn't happen the way he said it did and screw me out of more money.
Right now, Mom and I needed every dime. Disability stopped paying into the meds that actually worked for her pain. The stuff she needed cost a pretty penny, even on a stripper's pay, but I was happy to provide it.
I wasn't like Jordan. Loyalty ran in my blood. And looking at Blaze just now, I had a feeling the same spark was in him, badass outlaw biker or not.
“I understand. I really do.”
The tense lightning in his eyes faded. His muscles relaxed, and he gulped the last of his beer.
God, he was intense. None of the rough looking posers who watched my act at Pink Unlimited exhausted me like he did.
For the life of me, I was relieved his energy was off me. Needed a break after that. I slumped in the booth. My head lolled to his shoulder, and I closed my eyes.
One hand reached up. He held the ice pack on my head while stroking my hair, a strangely tender gesture for a man with his size and power.
“Rest up. We'll get all this bullshit sorted out. Tonight, you got nothing to worry about. You never will when you're with me.”
Sometime later, I jerked awake to explosive cheers. My cheek was chilled to the bone, like a solid icy ring around my head.
My vision was just slightly better. Maverick and June were back, and the big President had just finished shouting something about making June his 'old lady.'
Blaze gently nudged me aside, laying my head against the cushioned seat, and then made his way over. I watched the two men embrace in a big, manly bear hug as Blaze congratulated his brother.
Side by side, the resemblance was obvious. Blaze looked damned hot, and so did Maverick. No surprise that even a messed up girl like June fell for one of them.
Just glad she isn't after Blaze, I thought with a smile. Then I instantly pushed the crazy thought away, telling myself it was the pain and trauma tonight talking.
I didn't get schoolgirl crushes, especially on men who scared me as much as they excited me.
The whole thing was pretty startling too. I always thought an old lady was more like a powerless whore than a real girlfriend, but the way Maverick scooped June up into his arms and kissed her said otherwise. So did the looks the other bikers gave the couple. They were like the most badass faces you could imagine watching a wedding and wearing their approval.
I shook my head. Wasn't just my skull the stupid Grizzlies guy had knocked around. Between Blaze's kindness and the love lighting up the room, I had my whole perspective on bikers flipped upside down.
After the love birds disappeared, Blaze came back, carrying a blanket and a pillow in one hand and a glass of Jack in the other. He shifted past me so he could arrange the bedding on the booth, pushing the table away to make extra room.
“The other boys are about done drinking. They'll turn in for the night soon and leave you in peace. I'd offer you an extra room if we had one, but this'll have to do. I'll be right here in the morning to take you to your car.”
For a second, I worried about sleeping out here alone, even if the guys were well behaved. Then he pointed to a sleeping bag at his feet.
Blaze was camping out next to me tonight, and that made me smile. Talk about going the extra mile.
“Don't think I do this for everybody,” he said, as if reading my mind. “I'm a light sleeper. A few drinks don't faze me. I'll be right here to make sure you don't have a concussion or some shit. Sweet dreams, Saffron. Wake me up if you need anything to help with the pain. You'll feel better tomorrow.”
He turned his back to me. Despite the awkward position, the pillow was surprisingly soft, and I quickly settled into a deep, dreamless sleep.
I woke to him running his fingers gently through my hair. “Hey. You good to go?”
Groaning, I sat up. My head still hurt, but it was bearable with his fingers on it. A girl could get used to this kind of medicine.
We didn't say much during the short drive to Pink Unlimited in the morning. I was grateful, but I didn't have a clue how to show it – at least not without making him think I was interested.
And I definitely wasn't. No, no, hell no! I thought to myself all over again.
Denying it was even harder in the dawn light when I could see him better. The pale sunlight shone down on his arms, bulging hills of muscle with dark ink and pale light spreading over them. They disappeared inside a leather jacket that was sleek and stretched across his torso, highlighting his powerful ridges.
Beneath the V. PRESIDENT patch and the 1% diamond, the leather and the way he made Jack and oil fumes smell like heaven, he was built. A gorgeous beast whose face crowned an otherwise perfect body.
I studied the stubble on his strong jaw, running up to his dark hair and bright eyes. God, suddenly I was glad I wasn't in such great shape last night. If I'd been i
n my right mind, spending half the night with him sleeping inches away would've been pure hell!
“All right, we're home, Saffron,” he said at last, pulling into the strip club's parking lot. “Take care of yourself, baby. You leave taking care of the assholes who did you in last night to us. Call me anytime if they show up too close for comfort.”
He reached into his pocket and pushed a number on a scrap of paper into my palm. I held it like a fortune teller holds her sacred leaves.
Woozy, I mouthed a thank you before hopping out and shutting the door.
Just in time. One more minute in his truck would've seriously tempted me to do some stupid like thank him in more than words.
“Shelly! Why haven't you picked it up? I'm fucking dying here!”
I tightened my lips before entering her room. Mom cursed like a damned sailor when the pain in her ruined knees hit her the hardest. Slowly, I twisted the door to her room and popped the door.
“Sorry. This is the last thing you want to hear, but the pharmacy's upped the price again. I'm...a little short this week.”
I heard two gnarled hands slapping the bed. My mother spat pure venom for the next two minutes, crazy slurs like cock-knuckles and satan's tits.
Sometimes I wondered if Tourett's was one more syndrome worth adding to her long list of problems since the accident.
She sucked in a long breath after the explosion. “You telling me you ain't getting the hours? I don't understand, girl. What happened? Don't tell me your good boss went belly up!”
I bit my tongue to sharpen the blow. Today wasn't the day to tell her I'd been stripping, and much less about the whole damned club burning to the ground.
Mom sure didn’t need more heart trouble. And telling her I was now an unemployed stripper without even a measly check from the state of Montana might push her into an early grave.
“No, it's just a little slowdown. Early summer, you know. The big tourist rush is coming, and I'll be ready. There's more generics at the drugstore if you need them...”
“Fuck the pills and fuck you!” I heard her reach for her cane next to the bed and thump the floor. “You know I love you, Shelly. But sometimes you really disappoint an old woman, almost as much as your god damned brother.”
I left her alone and shut the door, blinking back tears. Was it any wonder I couldn't find steady work that paid more than minimum wage?
The whole world was cutting me down, and the pain in her brittle bones made Mom do it too. She couldn't help it. I understood more than ever with my busted eye, now more than halfway healed.
I told her I'd taken a fall, and she didn't press me further.
I couldn't spend a perfectly good summer day like this. She'd be breathing down my neck too, wanting me to bring her shit she didn't really need and then sending it back when it wasn't good enough. I grabbed my keys and left the shitstorm at home behind, opting to burn a dwindling tank of gas job hunting rather than take more abuse.
Driving beyond Missoula, I tried to forget. No luck, though. Anytime a girl tries to shove unwanted thoughts away, they come back ten times stronger, like a superstorm collecting wicked air as it rolls along.
One thing was for sure: I was really glad Mom didn't bother with the news.
If she'd watched it, she might have put two and two together. Shortly after Pink Unlimited was scorched to the ground, the Prairie Devils clubhouse in Python exploded. The cops found a bunch of charred Grizzlies inside the wreckage.
I followed the story closely, praying Blaze hadn't been hurt or killed in the carnage.
For awhile, it looked like the Feds were going to get involved since their little turf war had gone from MC clash to full blown terrorism. But I guess someone along the line must've paid their dues to the right cops, because the whole investigation blew over remarkably fast, and even the local reporters lost interest in the story.
No reports said anything about dead guys with different patches. Blaze was alive, and he'd kept his promise. The Grizzlies were gone, and I didn't need to fear running into them here anymore.
Near as I could tell, the Devils had taken their place. Last week at a gas station, I overheard two old riders on their bikes talking about how this was Prairie Devils territory now, and then they said his name.
Blaze. Not just alive, but President of the new charter they'd started up here.
I thought about him a lot. Had a feeling he was behind the new strip club opening next month, the old Dirty Diamond I was painfully tempted to interview with.
Tempted, desperate, and scared.
My money wouldn't last much longer, and then we'd be skimping along on Mom's disability. But it didn't make me want to dance for money again, especially not if it meant baring myself to violent assholes who'd punch me in the face or worse.
Or, hell, getting naked in front of him.
Just because the Grizzlies were gone didn't mean the new place was safe. And I vowed I wouldn't walk in there unless we were down to eating dirt for dinner.
It was a long day turning up empty handed yet again. On the drive home, I let myself think about him and his club, wondering if we'd ever cross paths.
Maybe better we didn't. I wasn't in any condition to date, and certainly not to lust after a man who probably wouldn't be interested in more than a quick fling. I hadn't been with anyone since my shitty stint at the community college, and it was just one boy who didn't do much to get the blood pumping.
The boy was a mistake I could handle. Blaze fired my interests in other ways, but I knew I'd pay dearly if I got too close.
No matter how much I wanted to lie to myself, I was a girl who liked red meat on a man. I didn't want rich or safe or normal, no matter how attractive it was supposed to be, or how much a guy like that would fix my life.
I wanted a badass with dark ink to flick my tongue against, and muscles forged in serious violence to hold onto while I rode the life out of him. I wanted a man who made me feel, fear and lust and savage excitement. And yeah, I really wanted a man who went beyond keeping me safe, a man so bad nobody would dream about fucking with him.
Blaze was all those things, and I was in lust.
One day, if I ever got my shit together, maybe I could have it with someone like him.
I wasn't a total idiot. Lust was never enough, no matter how amazing, and I wasn't in any shape to make stupid, sweaty mistakes on long summer nights.
I had to forget about bad boys – especially Blaze and the Prairie Devils – even if forcing myself to forget felt like one more stupid mistake.
It was a hot summer for Montana. The heat and humidity sapped my energy, and I laid out napping on our beat up leather sofa. Mom's tinny musicals played in her bedroom, distant and dismal as always.
She never got tired of watching those damned things over and over. The thick summer air sapped my energy so bad I didn't hear the pounding on the door at first.
Not until she began to scream. “Shellyyyy! Get your ass up and see who's bothering us!”
I rubbed my eyes. The wicked bruise around my poor eye was almost healed, but it hurt just a little to the touch.
A different kind of pain jerked through me when I looked through the little peephole in the door.
Two men in leather, one of them sporting a short wiry beard and a face I never thought I'd seen again behind it. I fumbled the locks and threw the door open.
“Jordan! Where the hell have you been?”
My brother grunted and pushed past me, another man right behind him. They both wore the thick boots I'd seen on serious bikers before. Their heavy footsteps clattered loudly on our old wooden floor, scuffing up the throw rug.
“No time to call, sis. There's shit going down and I needed to get here as soon as I could.” He inhaled the stale air in the little apartment and snorted his disgust. “Fuck. This place never changes. You got room for Dubs and I?”
“Dubs?”
“Double Dice, but you can call me Dubs for short,” the stranger said, looki
ng me up and down.
I eyed him carefully, and then my brother. Dubs was a huge man, as big as Blaze and the guys I'd seen at the clubhouse. Unlike them, I wouldn't call him hot. Something about him was just...off. His skin was grayish, sickly even, making him look more like a walking Frankenstein than a hot bad boy.
Jordan was catching up to his friend in muscle and rugged looks. Also left no doubt about what my big brother had been up to the last couple seasons.
Idiot. He'd really gone and done it. He'd joined a motorcycle club. If it wasn't for my recent experience with the Devils, I would've been a lot more freaked out.
Then the big guy turned and I saw his patches for the first time. I recognized the big roaring bear right away, flanked with a bottom rocker that said GRIZZLIES MC, WASHINGTON.
I went pale and started to shake.
“Shelly? What the fuck's wrong with you?” Jordan caught me against the wall just as I began to slump to the floor.
“You're one of...one of them. Jesus, brother, I don't know where you've been or what's been going through your head. This is a big damned –“
Mistake. I almost said it, but Dubs was leering at me, a nasty smile pulling at his beard.
“What's that, babe? You got a problem with the Grizzlies Motorcycle Club?”
Jordan held my hand, helping me to my feet. My face remembered the way another member's punch felt against smooth bone, and the pain sealed my lips.
I desperately shook my head from side to side, forcing a weak smile.
“I'm just...surprised. That's all. Had no idea you were really going out there to join them, Jordan.”
“Been a hang around for a long time with Missoula before those fucking Prairie Pussies kicked the club out. I knew you and Mom would flip your shit if you found out. Well, now you know.” He grinned, pointing to the second Grizzlies patch going up the side of his cut. “I'm the quickest prospect Spokane's ever patched in as a full member. And damned glad to be wearing it too.”
Dubs nodded firmly. “You earned it, bro.”
I didn't like the way his friend was looking at me. Crap.
Come to think of it, I didn't like a single thing about seeing my brother wearing the grizzly bear responsible for hurting me and so many others across the county. I would've rather seen him sporting a swastika.
