"Opportunities," Dice repeats with a knowing grin. "That sounds vaguely illegal."
"Only vaguely? I must be losing my touch."
A tall guy with a VP patch walks by, giving Dice a warning look. "Try not to burn the place down, prospect. You're on bar duty in twenty."
"Yes, Ghost," Dice replies, surprisingly respectful, though I catch the slight eye roll once the VP's back is turned.
"Bar duty? So, you're what, a glorified bartender?" I tease.
"Among other things." He leans closer, and I catch his scent. Leather, motor oil, and something distinctly male that makes meclench my thighs. "Prospects have to earn their way in. Clean the toilets, run errands, tend bar. All the glamorous shit."
"And here I thought outlaw bikers were all about the wild life."
"Oh, we are." His eyes darken slightly. "But there's a hierarchy. I'm still proving myself worthy of that full patch."
I study him: the lean but strong build beneath his cut, the restless energy he seems barely able to contain. James always said his brother was a walking time bomb, and I can see it now. Something explosive simmering just beneath the surface.
"James didn't mention you were a prospect." I signal for another drink. "He just said you were in a club."
"Been at it for eight months now." Pride colors his voice. "Another four, maybe six if I fuck up, and I'll be patched in."
"And what happens when James gets out? You think he'll join too?"
Dice laughs, but there's something tight in it. "James? Take orders and follow club rules? Not a chance in hell. My brother's a lone wolf. Always has been."
"True enough," I concede.
"What about you? James says you're like family to him. That makes you family to me too, I guess."
There's something dangerously appealing about the way he says "family", like it's sacred, like it means everything to him. I understand that. When you grow up without it, chosen family becomes the only thing that matters.
"I'm touched, Dice, but you don't know me." I give him my best troublemaker smile. "I could be a terrible influence."
"Counting on it." He returns the smile with interest. "Besides, my brother says you're batshit insane in the best possible way. That's exactly the kind of person I like having around."
A crash from across the room draws his attention. Two massive bikers are squaring off near the pool tables.
Dice sighs. "Duty calls. Don't disappear, Maddie. I've got questions about some of the stories my brother's told me."
"Which ones?" I call after him, suddenly nervous.
He turns, walking backward with that infuriating grin. "All of them."
As he strides across the room, effortlessly inserting himself between the two angry men with a joke that somehow diffuses the tension, I find myself watching how he moves, confident but alert, like he's ready for anything.
James always warned me about his brother. "Two of us in the same room is a disaster waiting to happen," he'd say. "And you're worse than both of us combined."
Looking at Dice now – his easy charm, his barely contained wildness – I can't help but think James was right. Dice Thompson is definitely a disaster waiting to happen.
And I've never been very good at avoiding disaster.
In fact, I tend to run straight toward it.
Chapter 2 - Dice
I can feel her eyes burning into my back as I walk away. Maddie Brooks. Fucking hell. James talked about her like she was some kind of force of nature, but he didn't mention she'd look like sin in a leather jacket.
"Everything cool here, gentlemen?" I step between two hang-arounds who clearly don't understand club hierarchy.
