One wall is adorned with a large black flag that bears the same logo that’s on the club vests: a skull set over two crossed guns, with “War Brothers MC” written above it. At the rear of the room, a literal motorcycle is recessed in the wall... they really love their motorcycles. My eyes wander further. I squint. Is that...? I squeal and turn on my heel so damn fast.
Axle gently holds my face and raises my head to make eye contact. “What’s wrong?”
I blush furiously. “Two people are having sex on the couch.” I never imagined I’d say this, but here I am.
“Fuuuck.” He looks over to them. “I’ll be right back.”
“Viper, put your dick back into your pants,” he yells over the music.
I wince. I’ve never wished to fade into the background as much as I do at this moment. The music quietens, and I hear the hum of conversation.
Axle is by my side again. “All good now—he’s got his pants on,” he says casually, as if having sex in public is normal.
We turn around to face his friends. I keep my eyes closed for a moment before chancing a look.
“I told them to calm it down a bit, but”—he looks up, his eyes fixed on his friend—“it looks like Viper didn’t hear me,” he says loudly.
“Sorry, man,” his friend calls out. The apology sounds half-hearted, more teasing than sincere. I can’t even look at his friend Viper now.
Axle drags me over to his friends at the pool table. They both pause and glance between us. Since my body is frozen, all I can manage is a stupid stare. I thought Axle was tall, but the man closest to me is enormous—I’m shorter than his shoulders. “This is Reaper, our president. We call him Reaper or Pres.”
Reaper tips his head to me in greeting. “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into with him?” he asks in a deep, rough voice, tilting his head in Axle’s direction.
My gaze shifts from Axle to Reaper.
Axle just laughs. “Oh, Pres has got jokes.” But Reaper’s not laughing.
I kind of wished I’d stayed home. Meeting Axle’s friends is a car crash of embarrassment.
The other man has made his way to us. He’s good looking, with dark features. His warm smile puts me at ease somewhat. “My name’s Cash.”
I smile back. “Oh... you’re Axle’s friend he went to the military with. My name’s Elena,” I say enthusiastically as I put my hand out.I put my freaking hand out to shake a biker’s hand.I could hit my forehead right about now. Cash shakes my hand and I’m grateful he didn’t embarrass me, but I don’t miss the odd look and raised brow he gives Axle.
“I bet he’s keeping you on your toes,” Cash says.
“What does that mean?” Axle asks, the accusation clear in his tone.
“That he is,” I answer Cash, and he chuckles.
Axle tugs me to the back of the room. “Cash is our treasurer. He’s really smart. Manages all our stuff and does whatever a finance person does.”
“What’s with all the unusual names?” I ask. I watch the man by himself at the bar finish his drink, slam the glass on the counter, and leave. He does not seem happy.
Axle snorts. “Everyone calls each other by their road name, not by their actual name.”
I pause. “So your real name’s not Axle?”
He chuckles. “That’s right.”
I’m about to ask what it is, but we reach the dart players. A man wearing a cap that’s been turned backward throws a dart and nearly hits the bullseye. “Hell yeah,” he chants. When he sees us, he gives us a cheery smile. “Hey, I’m Twitch.”
Another player, an attractive woman with long, dark hair, puts an arm around his waist. She gives me a quick up and down glance. “I’m Mercedez.”
“Twitch is our security and IT expert,” Axle says.
Before I can reply, a heavily tattooed man makes his way over to us. He has a mohawk and an eerie aura that makes me take a step back. I gasp when I see the shine of a blade and watch in horror as he throws his knife at the dartboard, hitting the bullseye.
“And that’s Demon, our enforcer,” Axle says.
