I couldn’t see whether he still had company under the table or not. He saw me looking, though. I felt it. Felt his eyes and his scornful grin on me as I hefted the beers onto the table.
His voice was a growl as I turned to leave. “You’re new here.” I looked back at him. He studied me like a pawnshop teller. His sharp, green eyes were all over me, “You should have me show you round.”
“You aint even a member, Hawk.” A bearded biker spoke up, “Leave the girl be.”
The green eyes hadn’t left off from assessing my t-shirt and its contents. He didn’t turn or look away to reply. He didn’t stop his tongue from sliding over his red lips. “Don’t I get the full courtesy you afford a guest, Ol’ Bear?”
Another of the men, big, frizzy-haired and quietly spoken said evenly, “You’ll get all of the courtesy you’re entitled to, Hawk.” The features of Hawk’s strong face closed slightly. He quieted a little.
“Hey, no beef, Abe.”
“No worry, Hawk. Hammer just brought her here, you saw that.”
Hawk was still watching me. I stayed quiet. He said, “Yeah, I saw that, Abe. I thought maybe she could do with some stress testing. That’s all.”
“It’s a helpful thought, Bro. Just don’t be thinking you’ll be our test pilot, okay?”
Hawk said to me, “I’ll see you in the back room later, right, girly?”
Abe told him, “Girl’s way too new for the back room, Hawk.”
As I returned to the bar, I felt Hawk watch the back of me all the way.
“You get any trouble from Hawk over there?” Grinder asked me.
I told him, “Nah,” but inside I didn’t feel so confident. I felt safer back behind the bar, but I remembered what Grinder had said about being useful.
I kept an eye on the tables. Watched for when the beer glasses got low. Then I’d saunter over, say ‘Hi,’ and asked if they’d like some more. Took fresh drinks over before I cleared the old glasses away.
The bikers were all friendlier than I had expected. Kind and even gentle in their manners. All but for Hawk. His eyes were hard on me the whole time. Whenever I stopped by at his table to ask if they’d like more beer, he always said something sly. Hinted at what else he’d like.
Beanie came to the bar. He looked different in his leather cut-off from how he was in the. He was smooth-skinned. His tribal swirls of ink looked ornate and stylish, in an urban guerilla kind of a way. The open sparkle in his eye was replaced by a hard set in his sharp jaw.
Here, with the leathers and in among the other bikers, his voice was deeper with more of an edge. His manner towards me was the same, though. As I served him a beer he said, “Glad Hammer could fix you up, Belle,” and he chewed his cheek as his pale, gray eyes softened at me.
The girl on the stage had taken most of her audience up there with her, one by one. The last two men she took up together. She was bent over, one guy in front of her with his cock in her mouth, the other up behind her jiggling ass.
Her knees sagged and her eyes were wild as the two men both came. The two men grinned and they slapped her ass as they got off the stage, stowing their cocks back into their pants. The girl sagged to her hands and knees.
Her face was wet and sticky. So was her hair and so were her tits. The flag was long since abandoned and her sheer panties were in shreds. She had a bleary, satisfied look in her eyes.
A short while later, she made it over to lean on the bar. Her big, pale green eyes sloped down at the sides and they floated a little. Her blonde cascades were sticky and mussed. She’d put on a leather jacket. With nothing more than heels and the shreds of her panties, it made her seem more naked than she was without it.
She folded her arms on the bar and dropped her chin onto her wrists as she waited. When I went over she asked me for a bourbon. Her smile was sweet and her voice was hoarse but cheery. Her eyes told another story.
When I brought her the shot she lifted a hand to me, “I’m Carlie, hi.” She lifted her head and it floated and slowly bobbed over her neck.
“Belle,” I said back. Her touch was soft and warm when I took her hand. Carlie slugged her shot, then another. They didn’t appear to have much of an effect on her. If anything, she became more focused.
I chatted with her while I served drinks, and I liked her. Carlie gave me a frail, tender embrace before she drifted back among the bikers.
A woman, tall, olive skinned with slow, exotic dark eyes was down the bar in front of Grinder. A black halter-top, patterned with rhinestones and tight black jeans emphasized her generous curves. Her hair was black, long and wavy.
She talked with Grinder a while before Grinder motioned me over.
“Belle,” the woman said, stretching out a cool hand, palm down like a paw. Like a priest offering their ring to give a blessing. When I took her hand she said, “I’m Jascinta. Welcome,” like it was something formal. As though the place was hers and she’d only just gotten around to meeting me.
She said to Grinder, “I wonder if I could borrow Belle for just a little while, Grinder,” she spoke like a teacher, talking to children out of school.
Grinder said, “It’s Belle’s first night here, Jascinta,”
But she cut gracefully across him, “I’m sure Belle can take care of herself,” her eyes cast a dark twinkle in my direction, “Can’t you, Belle.” And she made a smile for me. “We’ll see that she doesn’t come to any harm.”
Her arm stretched out. It was a signal for me to go with her. I looked at Grinder. His lips were pressed together, but he gave a nod. Jascinta said, “Bring a fresh bottle of bourbon, honey. You can freshen everyone’s glasses.”
As I passed, Grinder said quietly, “Watch out.”
Jascinta led me through a door at the back of the room. In the gloom of the corridor she stopped. “Let me take a proper look at you, Belle.” Her finger lifted my chin, like I was a piece of livestock. “You’re Hammer’s little waif, right?”
“I’m not anybody’s, Jascinta.”
“Yeah, okay,” her eyebrow raised as she said, “That’s good. I wonder if you can back it up, though. It can be demanding. Place like this. No-one to protect you.”
She said, “I don’t know what the men are like wherever you blew in from, Belle, but these men are bikers. You show them a challenge, specially in front of other bikers, they’re going to step right to it.”
She looked in my eye. “You jut your chin like that, with that ‘Oh yeah?’ look in your eye? They’re going to show you, right away.” I didn’t know if she was looking out for me or simply trying to scare me. Jascinta struck me as a woman with a strong sense of her own territory, and I wasn’t sure she was glad to have me there.
Her head tilted to one side, “Your first night, you want to stay back. Watch. Learn where you are.”
“You mean if I want a second night?”
“I mean if you want a tomorrow morning, child.”
Then she led me into the cigar smoke of the back room.
As I peered through the smoke at the men sat around a card table, it reminded me of Larry. My boyfriend, Larry. Larry the asshole who maxed our cards and trashed my cellphone contract, leaving me stranded in the Nevada desert.
Larry who, I was certain, made a moonlight dash from our apartment with us owing two, maybe three months rent. And leaving me unable to see my few possessions ever again.
Larry the genius card-player, card-cheat he called himself, who brilliantly came away from every game a few thousand poorer than he was when he’d arrived.
Lately, when he got home at four or six in the morning, I’d ask him how the night had gone. Then he’d yell. He’d concoct some bullshit about how I was ‘crowding’ him or I was ‘clingy.’
A couple of times he made his point with the back of his hand. Then he sniveled and cried and said he ‘didn’t know what came over him,’ and ‘how could it have happened.’ He swore he’d ‘die before he’d ever do that again.’
And each time I let hi
m get away with it, my self-esteem dropped a floor down. My opinion of him sank, and my image of myself sank with it. In a very big way, I was glad he’d finally bolted while I took a trip.
I wasn’t sure I was ever going to make the break. I’d rather it had been me, but I was glad it was one of us. Leaving me stranded, though. Hard to find a way to be glad about that.
At least now I had no reason to ever go back to Boulder fucking Colorado.
Now, in a room full of testosterone and murmurs, sweat and bourbon and smoke, I felt vulnerable. I was pretty exposed in my tiny skirt and loose t-shirt, but, more than that, I felt like I was in a room full of men just like Larry. Like Daddy.
Daddy gave me a weakness for gamblers. Card players in particular and especially mean, tough card players.
Men like the man that Larry pretended to be.
Hammer looked up through a cloud of blueish cigar smoke. He gave me no more acknowledgement than that. Eight other bikers sat around the big, round table. Eight more plus Hawk.
Hawk was sat across the table from Hammer. Hawk was dealing. He dealt two cards to each player. It looked like they were playing Texas Hold ’em.
Seems that’s what everybody plays now. It’s hard to see why, as it’s better for the house than the players. Daddy said that everyone comes away better from seven-card stud in a private game. He probably meant the more experienced players came away better off, though.
They played with Vegas-style chips. Hammer and Hawk had the biggest stacks.
As Jascinta told me, I went around the table with the bourbon, refilling shot glasses for almost everyone. One player held out his hand, palm down to indicate that he didn’t want another.
The man with the shortest stack downed his shot in one, then hit the glass on the table for a refill. Like I was a dealer. His stack was almost through to the baize. His forehead was moist. I didn’t need my Daddy’s eye to know that this was a man in trouble.
Hammer spoke in a low, soft voice to him as he slung down the second shot, “Easy, Midge.” Midge just snarled. He was a small man with hard, dark eyes. His sharp, angular jaw tensed and flexed and his thin lips were pressed tight.
He knocked his glass on the table again. I looked to Hammer for guidance but he didn’t look up. I turned my head to see if Jascinta would give me a hint, but I could hardly see her and her face was in shadow.
I poured Midge a shot like he wanted. He let it sit.
The hand played out. At the end there were just Hawk and one of the bikers with a smaller stack. As Hawk laid out the last card and won, a look passed quickly over Hammer’s face.
Daddy said, When you sit down at a poker table, spot the mark. If you haven’t made them in three hands, get up and leave, because it’s you. Here, Midge was the mark.
A couple of hands passed and I stayed as far back as I could. I kept close to the wall, and behind Hawk. When drinks ran down I refilled them.
A hefty biker with evil, narrow shades and a thin mustache stood as he pushed his remaining chips forward and went all-in. He lost, but he shook hands with all the other players, although Midge didn’t display much grace.
As the man left, the biker gave me five dollars and a smile. He handed something to Jascinta, too. Hammer waved with a short, fat cigar and said, “Tell Beanie there’s a seat if he wants it.”
Midge took two shots of bourbon in a row. He was noisier in the next hand, complaining about his position, about a raise and obviously hating his cards. As he hadn’t enough chips for a big bet, he wouldn’t stay in the game without going all-in and winning, and the opportunity wasn’t coming up for him.
He needed to have show cards for a believable bluff at least, and he didn’t get them for that hand or the next. Hawk won steadily. Steadily enough that I was sure he made Hammer suspicious.
Beanie opened the door and greeted the bikers as he came in. When he saw me in the shadows, his pretty eyes flicked through an eager recognition then pleasure and then concern before he settled in his chair. His didn’t look like a winning poker face to me.
Heartbreakingly gorgeous, but not a face for keeping secrets.
Midge’s mood lightened as he shoved his chips all in. He was calm and he even smiled. That left him out of the betting rounds and he stood up as the betting went around the table.
When Hawk laid out the three cards of the flop, the other bikers folded one by one. Only Hammer, Midge and Hawk remained in for the final two cards, the turn card and the river.
The turn card put Hammer out. A wide smile spread over Midge’s thin face as Hawk turned over the river card. It was a red king. The room fell quiet.
Hawk turned his cards two cards over and they were both kings. Chairs scraped and Midge’s face darkened. He lunged forward at Hawk.
Hammer was up with his arm out in front of Midge, “You know that Hawk is a guest here, Midge. Say whatever you have to say, but maintain respect.”
Midge’s face reddened. Hammer voice was low and firm. “Hawk, as you are a guest from another club, and one with rank, there is no way that I would insult you and call you a cheat.”
Hawk’s eyes danced. His jaw clenched.
“So, if you were to cheat,” Hammer went on evenly, “I’d have no other option than to kill you.”
Hawks lips tightened and he bared his teeth. “Big talk, Hammer.” A grin widened across his face. Midge shook with his whitening knuckles on the green felt of the table.
Hammer said, “So, Hawk, you want to play that hand again, or is there maybe something you’d want to share with us. Something tucked in your right cuff perhaps?”
Hawk’s buckles jingled and the leather creaked as he stood. All of the bikers’ chairs slid back and they all rose immediately. Hawk reached into his sleeve. The left sleeve, though, not the right.
“Why don’t we share this, motherfucker.”
He produced a long, wide, glinting blade.
The other bikers all moved back to clear space. Hawk held the blade towards Hammer. The tip pointed at Hammer’s face. “I’ll have this end,” Hawk growled, “you can have the other,” and he waved the blade.
Beanie was near, and he made a move towards Hawk. With no sign of hurry, Hammer lifted a hand. Beanie stopped. Hammer took an easy step around the table to Hawk. Hawk turned to keep his face to Hammer. The point of the knife stayed aimed at Hammer’s nose.
Hawk shifted his grip on the handle and Hammer paused in front of him. Hammer’s expression softened and his voice quieted. “We don’t pull weapons in the clubhouse, Hawk.”
“You call a man a cheat, you’ll need to back it up, Hammer.”
“You know I’m ready to do that, Hawk,” Hammer’s tone was mild. Easy. “You want to make a beef, we can take it to the barn.”
Hawk snarled, “You afraid to fight me like a man, Hammer?”
“No, Hawk,” Hammer sounded like he was speaking kindly to a child, “If that’s what you want, that’s how we’ll settle it. Man to man and hand to hand.” He held Hawk’s eye. “Not with blades, though. And not in the clubhouse.”
Hawk looked back at him. His grip moved on the knife handle and the blade twitched. It swished as it cut through the air when he pulled the blade down by his side.
Hammer’s smile was gentle. “The barn then, Hawk?” Hawk nodded.
Hammer stretched his arm towards the door and his body turned. Hawk lunged with the blade forwards.
Hard Ride: Biker MC Motorcycle Club Menage Steamy Romance 4 Story Bundle Set (Hot Tales From a Hard Road Book 2) Page 4
