I was my mom’s daughter, after all, and I’d learned plenty of tricks from years of watching her work over her old pimp/boyfriend to get what she wanted. So, I went home and bleached my hair, chopping it off just below my chin. Then I opened my neglected makeup kit and got all dolled up before squeezing my body into the shortest leather skirt and tightest tank top I could find. At nine p.m., I went bar hopping, ending the evening at The Serpent’s Nest, the bar owned and operated by the outlaw MC.
A lone bouncer stood guard at the door. Feet shoulder-width apart, arms crossed, he checked me out as I let my hips sway, approaching him on a pair of six-inch bright red fuck-me heels. I didn’t recognize the bouncer, but the front patch on his cut read “Prospect,” telling me he wasn’t worth my time.
Prospects were basically guppies, and if I wanted answers, I needed to fish for a shark. I needed a snake ranked high enough to get me into the compound so I could find out what was going on in there.
“Hey, babe, your fine ass lookin’ for a good time?” the bouncer asked.
“Lookin’ for a drink. I heard Brewer’s manning the bar tonight, and he pours ’em strong.”
My blatant name drop had its desired effect, causing the bouncer to open the door and blast us with loud rock music. “Yeah, Brewer’s on tonight,” he said.
Sucking down my last breath of fresh air, I marched in like I belonged there. Despite the fact smoking was illegal in all Washington establishments, the air reeked of tobacco and pot. Homing in on the row of bikers seated at the bar, I drifted over to stand by the cash register so I could see who I was dealing with. Several bikers I recognized from their mug shots. So many of these assholes should be thrownunderthe jail for the shit they’d done, but here they sat, enjoying their freedom like they were innocent, God-fearing folk.
The more I thought about the lack of justice I’d seen since donning the badge, the angrier I got. Letting that righteous rage reinforce my backbone, I stuck out my breasts and tugged my skirt up a little.
While I was trying to decide which dangerous perp would most likely get me into the compound without dumping my corpse into the Sound, a body leaned into my personal space, demanding my attention. My ridiculous six-inch heels elevated me to a height of about 5’10”, which put me at eye level with the biker now in my face. He looked rough, weathered, rugged. His dark hair, beard, and mustache could all use a good trim, and he smelled like he’d been in the bar about a week too long, marinating in the smoke and booze. But it was his icy blue eyes that made me instinctively take a step back as recognition slapped me across the face.
I’d caught the attention of Tommy “Breaker” Pritchard, nephew of the gang’s president. Suspected of committing more crimes than the department could keep track of, Breaker had been charged a few times, but like the rest of his family, all the shit we threw at him bounced right off.
He took in my tense posture and hasty retreat with a predatory smirk. “Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my bar?” he asked.
Straightening my shoulders, I took a deep breath and forced myself back into character. “Me? I’m trying to get a drink.” I let my gaze sweep over his body, just like he’d done to me, before closing the distance between us like he was some sort of magnet pulling me in. “Think you can help a girl out with that? Or are you just gonna stand there and gawk at me?”
His lips twitched. I’d heard Breaker liked his women mouthy, and the smile he fought verified my information. Good. I’d been written up for insolence twice in the past two weeks, so smart-ass was my new normal. I could hang. I quirked an eyebrow, waiting for his response with just a hint of challenge.
Keeping his icy gaze locked with mine he asked, “What are you drinkin’?”
“Rum and diet.”
“Brewer,” Breaker called, getting the bartender’s attention. He repeated my order before looking me over again. The heat of his gaze warmed my cheeks and kicked my fight or flight reflexes into overdrive. Hooking up with any of the Serpents meant playing with fire, but spending time with Breaker would be more like dangling myself over a volcano. His attention was a gift and a curse. It would get me in the door, but it might burn me alive in the process.
But I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t willing to take the risk. Those girls needed someone to go to bat for them, and since the sergeant had benched me, I was stepping up to the plate the only way I knew how.
I’d get that jerk his evidence, then I’d shove it right up his hemorrhoid-ridden ass.
“I haven’t seen you around here,” Breaker said, his voice deep and husky as he settled his hand on my hip and tugged me against him. The move was possessive and challenging. I could wiggle free, but really, I was right where I wanted to be.
“It’s my first time.” I flashed him the stamp on the back of my hand. “I was watching paint dry at the Corral when I overheard a couple of skanky-looking bitches talking about this place. Said the drinks are strong and the men are stronger.” I wrapped my arm around his waist, tugging myself even closer. “Made it sound like the bikers who frequent this place are a bunch of sex gods or some shit like that. Figured I’d come and see what all the fuss is about.”
This time, he did crack a smile. It made him look dangerous and a little crazy. “So you’re looking for a good time, huh?”
Licking my lips, I let myself really take him in. He wasn’t a bad looking guy. Nice face (if you didn’t look directly into his terrifying eyes), square jaw, bad boy appeal, radiating the kind of confidence and power that promised a good fuck. His chest was wide, his arms were muscular and tattooed. All in all, he wasn’t bad for a murderer, thief, drug dealer, and possible sex trafficker.
“I’m always up for a good time,” I said beneath my lashes, flirting my ass off.
“This can be a dangerous place for someone who looks like you. You sure you’re up for it?”
My mom hooked for years to put food on the table and pay off my dad’s hospital bills. The irony that I’d be whoring myself out with the hopes of keeping other girls from her fate wasn’t lost on me. “I think I can handle myself.”
His raised eyebrows spoke volumes about his disbelief in my abilities. “What’s your name?”
I thought about lying, but immediately dismissed the idea. With a little more planning and a little less last-minute suicide put into my mission, I could have come up with a fake ID. But since I didn’t have one on me, I couldn’t take the chance that he’d check. “Sasha. Yours?”
“Breaker,” the bartender called, answering for him as he held out a drink.
Breaker leaned forward and grabbed the beverage before handing it to me. I watched the entire interaction to make sure he didn’t slip anything into my drink. Taking a sip, I dissected the flavor as it rolled over my tongue. I couldn’t taste anything other than Captain Morgan’s and Diet Coke, but that didn’t mean shit. Hoping for the best, I raised my glass in thanks before taking another swallow.
“Let’s sit down,” Breaker said.
