Walking over to the bar slamming my hands down on the counter. “Beer, Princess.” My voice clipped, my eyes on the kid with his hands wrapped around a Bud lite.
Senna’s warm fingers find my face tilting my chin up, my eyes meeting her death stare. “Pardon?” her voice was sharp.
“Princess, Beer.” Staring deep into her damn near soul. She always let me past the wall and into the depths.
“Please?” Her grip tightens on my chin, my body hums at the touch, she's a damn firecracker that will surely get us both in trouble.
“Please, Princess.” Sending her a wink I see the red creep up her neck, and I know she knows.
“That's better Biker boy,” she coos out, her voice melodic.
The punk next to me laughs around his beer, my hand pulls Senna’s from my chin and she squeezes my hand in warning. Nope, not heeding it.
“Boy do you know who I am?” my tone dark. Closing in on him, I turn him in his barstool. He pales, his eyes dart from me to Senna to me and back again. “She can't help you, boy. What's so funny?” I bark out.
“I… ummm ...I,” he stutters out, fear in his eyes.
“I asked you a question boy. Best you answer without stammering. Either you are a biker or a mouse?” Raising my brow at him his eyes flick shut and back open again.
“Well you asked him two so what one do you want answered?” My eyes snap to hers, laughter and amusement dance through them.
“Senna, not now,” I say, clenching my jaw on the last word.
“Well, here's your beer now calm down,’ she sasses out. Fuck I’d love nothing more than to spank that sass outta her.
“Well, boy. Questions. Two of them requiring answers.” He gives me a deer in the headlights look and swallows that lump in his throat.
“Everyone, well, everyone knows you and nothing’s funny really.”
Looking at him with a death glare I reach for his shirt and pull him up off of his stool into my face, “Well, not everybody who’s seen you thought it would be funny to disrespect me in my club in front of the princess herself.”
Walking to the door with his scrawny body in the air, his toes dangling over the wooden floors of the club. Kicking the door open I say, “Stay the fuck out there till you find your fucking respect, boy.”
Walking back in my eyes zone in on miss smart ass. She's leaning against the back of the bar, cleaning the inside of a glass with a towel. Her eyes burning fire and her lips cracked into a soul-shattering smile.
I pick up my beer, “Not a word Princess.” Taking my beer with me I head to church. These dicks are here for a reason and it's time to find out just what that reason is.
Chapter Two
Senna
God, that man infuriates me and turns me on at the same time. As he walks into church, I can’t help but check him out in those jeans that show off his fine ass. He’s the epitome of sexy, shaggy hair, tight trimmed beard, body covered in tattoos and eyes that make my panties instantly wet. Looking into his eyes reminds me of the sky when a storm is rolling in- gray and turbulent. Luca is good at hiding his emotions, except from me. I have known this man my entire life and I know how he looks when feeling every emotion, it’s all in his eyes.
When the chapel doors shut, the chicas swarm the bar wanting to get a few drinks in before the guys finish church. The chicas are the club whores and are here to service the single guys, and a few of the married ones. Its none of my business what the brothers do, but it pisses me off when some of the guys with old ladies fuck around with the whores.
Right now, we have four resident chicas, Callie, Josey, Kimmie and Mal. The club gives the girls a place to live and they help keep the club running smoothly in addition to keeping the men satisfied. Callie and Mal are great and I enjoy their company. Kimmie and Josey are cunts and I can’t stand to be in the same room with them. They are a couple of nasty backstabbing bitches who bully Callie and Mal. They know not to pull that shit in front of Saylor or me. We will kick their ass if they even start on them. We may be the club princesses, but our daddy and uncles taught us to fight and we can kick some serious ass!
I get the girls their drinks and move back to finish cleaning up the bar for when church lets out. Saylor and I are running the bar tonight. We are at the clubhouse so much that no one blinks seeing us behind the bar. We have been slinging drinks since we could reach the bar.
Our momma has taught us a lot over the years about all aspects of the club life. Her and daddy have pushed us to chase our dreams and we are doing just that. In a few weeks, Saylor and I are headed back to the University of Texas, San Antonio to start our third year of college. Me for business management and Saylor for art and design.
We are total opposites in every way. I look just like our momma- curly red hair and bright green eyes. Petite and curvy. Saylor is daddy’s twin- taller and thin with jet black hair and baby blue eyes. Where Say looks like daddy, I act like him. I’m snarly and bitchy and don’t take shit from anyone. Saylor is passive and peaceful like momma.
I finish washing the glasses placing them back on the bar when Saylor comes walking out from the back hallway. The clubhouse is exactly what you imagine an MC clubhouse would be. The building is two-stories. The main level has a large open space where the bar is located, there are tables and chairs scattered around the left side of the bar with couches to the right. We have a couple of pool tables and a dart board for the guys. Behind the bar is the industrial-sized kitchen with two refrigerators and three stoves with dual ovens. We have almost forty members, that’s a lot of people to feed. Many of the brothers live at the clubhouse where about a handful have old ladies and live off-site. There are a few bedrooms downstairs for the newer members. The rooms upstairs are for the officers and older members. Say and I share a room when we stay at the clubhouse. Most nights, we head home and sleep in our own beds.
“Hey, Sis.” Saylor sidles up beside me bumping my hip with hers. I take a minute to look her over. She’s dressed in her typical clubhouse attire- tight black leather pants, tight Aces of Spades MC tank and sky-high heels. She’s the girly girl, where I’m happy in jean shorts and a plain tank.
“Hey,” I reply, as she grabs a soda out of the fridge. We aren’t planning on staying at the club tonight, so no drinking for us. Last thing we need is to get pulled over for DUI.
