by Nicole Snow
“Here.”
“What? I thought you only allowed brothers at the clubhouse?”
“We're gonna have a job opening. Miner's about to go into retirement. Emeritus, if you wanna call it that.”
I raised an eyebrow. Never knew bikers were so educated to have fancy Latin words in their lexicon.
“He'll still come to church and fuck around at parties,” Blaze continued. “We're gonna need a new bartender, though. Also somebody to make sure the prospects stock up the booze and keep this place spotless.”
I shook my head. “How much work would I actually get? I don't know the first thing about bar tending. And, uh, I know you guys drink a lot...surely you don't need somebody serving drinks all the time?”
Blaze laughed. The rich baritone sound echoed through the empty clubhouse.
“What do you think this place is, baby? This is more than just a glorified bachelor pad with Harleys parked outside.” He winked, his lips curled in a damned tease of a smirk. “This is our home and a place where we do business. With the deals going down, we always need somebody on hand who can serve up the goods for our associates. And, yes, for whenever we need a few quick hits too.”
What he said made sense. It also made me feel like a complete moron, a stark reminder of how little I still knew about the MC life.
“You do it right, you'll make almost as much as you did stripping some nights. We all share the wealth around here.” He leaned in, flattening his hand along the small of my back and pushing me into him. “What do you say? I'll have Miner train you in.”
Damn! It was a little painful to give in so easily. But my body couldn't lie, and neither could my ears.
His proposal – if it was as clear cut as he said – was actually pretty generous. I answered him with a kiss, standing on my tip toes to reach up to him, sucking at his bottom lip until he groaned.
“Hey, Prez!”
Blaze dropped me. He spun around, a pissed off whirlwind. I looked over his shoulder in horror.
Stinger stood there with a wide grin on his face. God, for all I knew, he'd seen the whole thing go down!
“Why don't you ever knock, asshole?” Blaze muttered. “Gonna hang a goddamned bell around your neck one of these days. That and change your name to Smiley.”
Stinger laughed, but quickly swallowed it the longer Blaze's icy glare held him in its grasp.
“Got a special delivery for you. The Dakota boys want you out there personally so our guys can unload it.”
“All right, fine.” Blaze took off, marching toward the garage. I was worried he'd completely forgotten about me until he turned around and stopped near the door. “Miner will be in for his shift shortly. Tell him I sent you.”
I nodded dumbly. Stinger lingered long behind his boss, and put out a hand to stop me when I tried to walk past to the bar.
“Don't mind him. You're doing everything right.” He looked me up and down and I quietly fumed.
Damn it, is every one of these men a pervert who thinks he's entitled to a woman?
Stinger was tall and a little scruffier than Blaze. Not too bad on the eyes by any means. Still, that didn't mean I wanted him ogling me – especially with that big grin of his.
“I'm not sure what you mean,” I said, hoping he'd let me pass.
Nope. The VP stood in my way, crossing his arms.
“I think having a girl will be good for old Blaze. Just one thing, babe: if he turns you down again, you're fair game. I'm giving you a fair warning: every brother without an old lady's gonna be all over you if you're not claimed. Especially if you're gonna be working this bar all day.”
My heart pounded. Well, shit.
I hadn't even considered that. I knew biker culture meant the men went after ladies with an intensity that would've been considered total harassment anywhere outside the clubs.
“Soon as work's done outside, I'll be by this afternoon to sample your goods. Hope the brain behind that pretty face is just as hot as the rest of you.” Stinger smiled wider, reached out, and pinched my ass.
I almost hit the ceiling. My hands flew at his back, punching the leather and patches.
Didn't seem to faze him. He just laughed and thudded away, leaving me fuming all alone between the tables.
Asshole.
It would've been one thing coming from Blaze – much as I didn't want to admit it. But I definitely didn't want all these big badasses trying to drag me onto their bikes or into their beds like fucking cavemen.
Saffron's old stage show fortitude burned in my heart. My eyes pierced Stinger like daggers as he stepped outside and slammed the door behind him.
Okay, fine, I thought. If I need to make more than just money, I will. I'll earn some respect and be the best damned bartender this club has ever seen.
Miner stood behind me, guiding my hands. He'd shown me how to make the Manhattan three times and I still fucked it up.
I didn't mind having his hands on mine. The old man was the only guy I'd met here who didn't give off a need to fuck you now vibe.
“Everybody wants to give you shit over this over this drink,” he said softly. “You give it right back. If they don't tell me what they want, I trade some bitters for a cherry. Put it on the rocks and make it a little sweet.”
“You mean the guys and, uh,” I paused. “Business contacts really go for a drink like this?”
I turned. This seemed way more sophisticated than gut burning whiskey shots. He looked at me seriously.
“You better believe it. We've got international folks coming down from Canada every so often. Sometimes all the way from New England and Europe too. You'll get a request a couple times a year, maybe more than that if there's a big deal going down. You'd be surprised how many bastards who look all rough around the edges like to look all complicated at the bar.”
I nodded. Okay, let's try this again.
Miner stepped back so I could repeat what he'd shown me. I threw together the ingredients, gave it a good mix, and tossed the cherry in with a plastic pirate sword going through it. The little toy hilt had a skull with horns growing out of it.
Pretty appropriate for drinks served up by the Prairie Devils MC.
Miner reached for the glass and took a long pull. Listening to him smack his lips gave me a small smile.
“Better,” he said, putting the drink down. “We'll pick this up tomorrow morning. Feel free to hang around as long as you like and serve some drinks. Most of our boys never ask for anything except cold beer and Jack anyway. It's the outsiders you gotta watch out for. You good? I've got some accounting crap with Roller.”
I told him I'd take care of it, and then I was all alone.
Moose and the two prospects came by for drinks. The simple stuff – just like Miner said – was on the house for full patch brothers. The prospects paid a small fee. Everybody left great tips, and I ended up making more than I would at a crap job with way more stress.
All in all, I was feeling pretty happy. It was going on six hours at my station when Blaze came in.
He saw me, turned, and headed straight for the bar. My knees went a little weak and the heat roared through me.
Jesus. Right or wrong, fierce or smiling, kind or merciless, he always looked good. And leaving it at “good” was one hell of an understatement, the kind my brain heaved up to try to keep my senses straight.
“What'll it be?” I asked, stealing Miner's trademark phrase. Also flashed him a smile that hopefully didn't betray too much.
Blaze saw right through me, peering straight to my hot, wet desire. But I wasn't going to make it any more obvious, dammit. I wasn't going to show him how badly I wanted to feel his lips and stubble steaming across my flesh, how bad I wanted to reach between his legs and squeeze the thick hard-on I'd felt earlier...
“Straight Jack,” he said, not even smiling. “And a tall glass of water.”
I turned, reaching for a bottle of mineral water and then the whiskey. I felt his eyes anchored to my ass while
I reached for the shot glass. I had to grip it tight not to fumble, and end the day with an embarrassing mistake after doing so well.
“Getting hot out there, isn't it? I'll bet you're thirsty.”
He grunted an affirmative. God, I sounded like an idiot, babbling meaningless small talk – the only weak defense I had against him just now.
“No.” He reached past his water and grabbed my wrist. “I'm only feeling the fucking heat in here. Your shift over after this?”
The raw need in his eyes was solid, unwavering. I couldn't have missed it if I tried.
Fierce warmth hissed through my veins and a jolt coalesced between my legs. I leaned into the bar, meeting his gaze, collecting everything I had to steel myself against it.
Against him.
“Yeah, and I've got things to do for Mom. Need to get home and squirrel away this money. You weren't kidding about the tips.”
“Wasn't kidding about what I said before either, baby. I got another position that's a lot more fun for you than hooking us up with drinks all day. My new apartment. Ride there with me.”
My hands shook as I gently pushed his shot glass toward him. Blaze never took his eyes off me as he took it, drew it to his lips, pausing to caress the rim. Then he knocked it back in one gulp and slammed the empty glass on the counter.
“Blaze...look...”
If only it were that easy. Truth was, I didn't know where to begin. I let the fear in my brain take over running my mouth.
“Yeah? You gonna finish what we started this morning, or what? Can't wait any longer, baby. You're killing me.” His eyes locked on mine.
“Blaze! I can't – I can't work here if it's going to be like this!” I tripped all over my words, but they were out. “You're hot and you know it, and you're using it against me. I'm really, really sorry. I'm just not ready for this. I want to be a professional here and do the best job I can without any complications. Even if another part of me wants to do the exact opposite...”
Every inch of me burned. Shame and lust and regret crashed together like heavy waves, electrifying me all over.
“Another shot.” He pushed his glass forward.
I blinked, wondering if I'd just imagined the whole conversation. I shakily poured him his whiskey, watching him down it a second time. When I heard the glass clink to rest, I furrowed my brow.
No response? What the hell was he doing? Was this some weird pickup tactic to melt my panties?
“Are we okay?” I asked softly.
“We're square. You don't want it, I get that. I got other girls. No skin off my back.” He stood up, moving his eyes swiftly over my body. “Take care tonight, woman.”
They stopped at my chest before they shot to my face one last time, and then he turned and started to walk, back toward the offices down the long hallway.
“Blaze!” I called after him. “I don't want it to...”
Be like this.
No use. Never got to the last three words. He was gone.
I grabbed the towel I used to wipe up the counter and twisted it so hard my knuckles hurt.
“Bastard!” I spat, glad the bar was empty.
He really knew how to turn a rejection on his head. Just one of his many talents, I guess.
Now I felt like the idiot for turning him down, as if he were the one who dropped me like a used condom. And what the hell had he said about “other girls?”
I gritted my teeth, quickly mopped up, and tucked away all my cash.
I should've waited for Miner to pick up, but he was due to be along shortly, and I couldn't take the clubhouse's dark atmosphere anymore. I fished out my keys and stepped out into the warm summer evening, wishing it were as easy to banish Blaze's bullshit as it was to dash away the shadows.
At least I had some good news. Mom would be thrilled to learn I had an honest-to-god job. I could tell her I was serving drinks without hiding it. Just couldn't tell her where.
The last thing she needed to hear was that both her kids were mixed up with violent outlaw MCs. I stopped at the drugstore for her pain pills and picked up some kitchen sink ice cream for myself.
Not the healthiest choice, but dammit, I was going to forget about Blaze by partying with the most caramel, nuts, and dark chocolate a company could pack into my mouth at one time.
I must've been in a daze. I never heard the motorcycle revving up behind me, following me all the way to the apartment until it dropped off and parked about a block away behind an old abandoned sport's shop.
No sooner than I got inside with a smile on my face, Brass pushed me against the wall. I dropped the ice cream and yelped as he held me down.
“You lied, sis. You were with them – them!” His breath stank like whiskey, so strong it rolled around my ear to the other side of my face. “I saw you leave their fucking clubhouse myself.”
“It's just a job, Jordan! I'm serving drinks. You're the one who's mislead. It's not too late to get out. Just leave this stupid club and forget about all this...”
I was braver than I expected. Maybe I'd had my fill of crap for the day, and now I didn't care what happened.
My big brother begged to differ. He picked me up and slammed me against the wall again, harder, then flipped me around to face him.
“Jesus. Jordan, you look like shit.”
He was way past drunk. He was on something else, something that sucked the color out of his skin and left him clammy.
His long brown hair was all greasy and messed up like he hadn't showered for days. He'd always been a big guy, muscular and tall, but now it looked like he'd lost some serious weight. I'd never seen him so skinny, so dark, so tired.
So damned soulless.
“Stop being a know-it-all-bitch, Shelly. This isn't fucking grade school anymore. The guys you're hanging around will rape you and kill you when they get the chance. I need you to work with me and stay the fuck away. If you want a job, I can find something. I can –“
“You won't! And I don't want your help.” I snatched my hand away with a huff. “I don't need you, big brother. Our family's managed for years without you.”
His face darkened. He looked genuinely hurt, and I almost felt bad. Then he went and grabbed me again, twisting my wrist at a nasty angle. I shrieked and dug my nails into his palm.
“I tried to ask nicely, you know. I thought you'd understand. You don't know what the hell you're dealing with, sis. You don't know these men are fucking killers –“
“Just like you?” I snarled.
His eyes went wide. “It's different. We do what we need to protect our club. The fucks you're working for killed a whole charter of good men last Spring to take this area for themselves. We should've wiped them out then, and we would've, if our national President hadn't lost his balls...”
He clenched his jaw. His eyes were bloodshot, enraged with anger and exhaustion. Then his face loosened, relaxed with the realization he'd nearly said too much.
“Forget it. Everything's gonna be all right just as long as you listen to me. Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna stay the fuck away from their clubhouse and let me do the runs for Mom's shit. You'll stay in this apartment until I say otherwise. I'll send some guys around to protect you.”
“No!” I screamed and scratched so furiously it caught him by surprise.
I couldn't handle getting raped or hurt or having to kill a second time. Let alone a whole group of vicious thugs I didn't have a prayer against.
“What the fuck?” Jordan muttered. “Why, sis? Why you got to be so fucking difficult? This isn't hard...I know you want to work. I'm trying to save your life and you're too stupid to see it.”
He laid a hand on my shoulder, trying to be comforting. I threw it off, facing him with new vigor.
“Leave, Jordan. I'll say it again: we don't need your help and we don't want anything to do with your MC. It's too late for you. Best thing you can do is tell those guys to pack it in and leave. Get on your bikes and ride, go far away, and just forget about
all this.”
“Not an option.” It came out so low and rough it sounded like a growl. He stepped forward, his body flattening me to the wall.
“We're doing this one way or another, sis. The Grizzlies are my family, and that makes them yours too.” He reached for my purse.
I started thrashing around when he got a hold of it, but he was too strong. I elbowed him hard when I heard him break the strap, and then he was digging through my things.
No! I clawed at his huge arm, using my nails the same way I'd used them on Blaze. Even with less meat on his bones, he was still nearly as ripped as any of the Devils.
“What the fuck! Get out of there!” I wanted to bite him.
He let the purse drop and all my stuff spilled across the floor. He held up my phone, opened it, and began pressing keys.
“Where's their fucking number? You call them right now and tell them you'll never be back. Change of plans.” I looked at his hard face and shook my head. “I told you I'm not fucking around anymore, Shelly! Stop being a dumb cunt and do what I say!”
I was about to take a serious beating. I'd have to scratch out his eyes or kick him in the nuts.
Family or not, he'd crossed a line. The Grizzlies poisoned his brain and twisted the man, the brother I once knew, turned him into a demon that couldn't think for himself.
Crack!
Something flashed straight across Jordan's ribs and he roared. I looked up and saw Mom half-crumpled on the floor. The cane flew out of her hands when she hit him in the stomach. It must've taken all her strength.
Winded and stricken with pain, he stood up and turned around. When Jordan saw her, his eyes were just as wide as mine, filled with teary surprise.
“Get out,” Mom said hoarsely.
“Mom? I need to protect you both...I need to do what's right...you understand?”
No way. Jordan's words were like whispers, the rage and confidence he'd used against me suddenly leveled.
“I said get the hell out of my house,” she said again, clawing at the wall to stand. “No son of mine threatens family. I didn't raise neither of you right, I get it. But at least Shelly inherited some damned common sense and a good heart. You, boy, are your father's son.”
