Katie
“Katie, I told you, I don’t do multiple times. You were just a one-and-done. You can’t be around me. Thanks for the sex.”
What.
The.
Fucking.
Hell!
Back at my place, I stared at the message that Connor had just sent me, thinking it had to be some sort of sick fucking joke. This could not possibly be a real fucking message. After what had just happened?
What the fuck was going on?
I was pissed. I was fucking furious. If Connor had had the balls to say that to my face as he walked me out to the Uber, I would have slapped him across the face, and it would not have been enough. His biker bros that had come over had probably talked him out of doing anything with me. What a bunch of fucking assholes.
God, I’d made the same fucking mistake all fucking over again. I just had to go for the worst of the bunch, the guy who looked the part but…well, he very much acted the part, too. Why the hell had I thought he would be any different?
I was in so much pain, but being as angry as I was provided at least a temporary respite. I thought about making a store-wide ban on all motorcyclists. I wasn’t sure that I had any legal right to, but what was a fucking biker going to do, hire a lawyer and sue me and show up in court in a suit and tie? The thought was fucking laughable. And if they tried to take out justice like they normally did?
I had a gun. I hadn’t used it before, but if they thought I was afraid to use it, they were in for a rude fucking awakening—or perhaps a rude fucking slumber.
No, no, I was getting ahead of myself. I was getting too angry. I wasn’t going to kill anyone.
But I sure as fuck wanted to kill Connor.
Goddamnit!
My phone buzzed. I swore to God, if that was Connor…
It wasn’t. It was Elizabeth. She was asking me how my date with Connor had gone.Dear Elizabeth, this is how it went. Connor was a fucking liar. He toyed with me to get me into bed, and as good as the sex was in the moment, I feel fucking violated and tricked. If I so much as ever see another biker besides Brock and Steele—and even then, I’m not sure—I may just murder them on the spot.
They were all fucking assholes. But having a conversation like that with Elizabeth or Tara was not going to go anywhere. They’d tell me to be open-minded, that I couldn’t judge them all because of one day. I couldn’t judge Connor for pushing him past his boundaries, and besides, all bikers reacted this way. Maybe there was something more than he was letting on.
No, fuck that. Fuck that fucking shit. I needed to talk to someone who hated bikers as much as I did.
And I knew just who the fuck to talk to.
* * *
When I walked into Copper Lounge later that night, I had on much nicer clothes than I had worn earlier in the day. I had on a pink dress, white heels, and makeup that made me look like I was going to a nightclub more than a biker club.
Which, depending on how the night went, was not out of the realm of possibility. I was still seething from what Connor had done, and the only way that felt appropriate for getting it out of my system was to go in the complete opposite direction. Maybe that wasn’t the healthiest thing ever, as it had a tendency to introduce me to the exact kind of guy I tried to avoid, but right now, it was all my muddled, infuriated brain could think of.
I spotted my “date” almost immediately. With her curly hair, exotic half-white, half-black skin, and her long dresses, Justine always stood out in a crowd. I dared to say that no one else I had ever met looked like Justine.
But even though she was truly unique in appearances and one-of-a-kind as a friend, guys didn’t throw themselves at her, probably because of how quiet she was. She was unafraid to call out bullshit when she saw it, and she put me in my place more than once, but it was rare that she would do it unprompted; I’d usually have to ask her if something was wrong. As a result, many guys who flirted with her did not get an extroverted response, making it tough to read her.
But tonight, I knew just how to get her going. She, like me, had reason to absolutely spite and loathe the Black Reapers.
She saw me, gave a gentle smile, stood up, and walked over to me to give me a hug.
“Hey, Katie,” she said, squeezing me in place. “You doing OK?”
“No,” I said honestly. “But I’m here. And I’m ready to indulge a little.”
“Well, I already got two margaritas. I hope that works for you.”
