“Cruz is working the bar,” Kiss said. “He’ll get a break soon and eat with us.”
I recognized the guy she indicated. He had his hair pulled into a ponytail. Some of the strands had come loose, sticking to his face because of the heat in the room. His gaze shifted from the Heller in front of him to the object of my obsession.McKelle.Lucky bastard.
“I hope you’re hungry.”
I shifted my gaze to Kiss. “You know I am.”
I rested a hand on her arm. “I should say hi to Romeo first.”
“He’s in the corner.” She pointed to a table to the left of the bar.
Romeo was there with several other guys with patches on their cuts. “He looks busy. I just want to let him know I’m here.”
“He’ll be going to the boardroom soon. The board always meets on Friday nights for church.”
“Church?” I glanced around the chapel. Stained-glass stretched from midway up the wall to the rafters on one side. The altar had been converted to a bar, and there were girls with their tits popping out the neckline of their tight T-shirts serving drinks.
Apparently, when Tank said he wanted a kitten on his lap, he meant a blonde with big tits, stripper heels, and a short skirt. I’d guess there wasn’t a lot of soul searching and prayer going on, but I’d wager the last twenty bucks in my pocket, I could pay one of these girls to get on their knees.
By the time I stopped staring, Kiss had moved off, and I weaved between tables, heading toward Romeo. It still felt strange not to think of him as Mike, but he’d left that life behind. I didn’t blame him. This was where he belonged. Family, friends, bikes, and babes.
“Ryatt!” Romeo stood. As I approached, he grabbed a chair and positioned it next to him. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”
“I met PO outside.” Tank had his hands full of the girl on his lap.
“The fuck? PO?” Romeo questioned with a roll of his eyes. “You’re not tagging him with the acronym for parole officer.”
I laughed. “In my case, it’s probation.”
Romeo went around the table. “Blade. President of the Hellers. You want in the club? Kiss his ass.” He pointed to a Japanese girl sitting at a table with the blonde ball buster from outside and several other girls. “But ask Hana first.”
Blade sipped a beer. “Pretty boy knows all about ass kissing. Just ask his old lady.”
“Levi’s ass is spectacular,” Romeo said. “I do a lot more than kiss it.” He nodded to the guy next to Blade. I’d thought Tank was big, but the VP of the Heller Raiders was bigger. “Rogue.”
The first time I’d been out to Romeo’s place, we’d rehashed life from when we lost touch in the system. He’d told me about his mom, Shannon and her brother, Rogue, who’d brought him into the MC.
“Dozer and Torch are out at the grill. You’ll meet them later.” Romeo sat again. “Ryatt is hanging around, but I’m going to convince him to prospect for the club.”
I settled onto the chair next to him. “What does prospecting for the club entail?”
“Prospect,” Rogue hollered to the bar. “Another round of drinks.” Then he finished his beer. “Prospect does whatever he’s told. No questions. No arguments. You want to wear a cut? You can buy one on Amazon. You want the patch? You fucking earn it.”
Cruz—you didn’t forget the name of the guy fucking the girl of your dreams—held four long necks in each hand, bracing them between his fingers. Romeo helped him unload the bottles onto the table.
“What kind of bike do you ride?” Blade asked.
“Yamaha R1.”
Before I could continue with the specs of my badass bike, the only thing of value I owned, Romeo wrapped an arm around his president’s shoulder. “He needs along run up to Sturgis to know why he needs to trade in his crotch rocket for American made muscle.”
“Is that Street Glide still in the window at the shop,” Blade asked. “Hana sprayed the tank with skulls and chains.”
“I saw it last Sunday,” I said. “She does amazing work.”
“Sold it today,” Romeo said.
Blade’s phone buzzed, and he stood.
