“The Harlots are the female version of the Royal Bastards,” Marisol adds. “They have chapters in the States, and it was Smoke who told me about it and suggested we get something started down here.”
“Each chapter is different, and a lot of the girls ride too, but when Marisol approached me about it a few months ago, I wanted to include the female fighters.” Maxie runs her finger around the rim of her glass. “A lot of them, myself included, have unfortunate backstories, and we thought it would be a way of lending support when needed.”
I grip Marisol and Maxie’s hands. “In a few short weeks, you’ve both been there for me, and you’ll never know how it’s appreciated.”
“I could tell from the first few days in the gym, you want something better,” Maxie says. “I also know you’re holding something back, but that’s okay.”
“Just know when you’re ready to talk, we’re here,” Marisol adds.
Their words fill me with hope, and it’s nice to have a feeling of belonging.
“Hmmm,” Marisol looks over my shoulder, “Diesel’s private dance didn’t last too long.”
I shift on the barstool, and she grabs my arm. “Don’t look. He just sat down with Smoke and Blood, and he doesn’t look happy.”
Now I’m dying to look over my shoulder, but I take the advice of the two women way more experienced in outlaw bikers and their moods.
Maxie nods. “More like totally pissed. I’ve seen that look in the gym, and it never ends well.”
I clearly remember Diesel’s eyes the first night I caught him watching me strip. The heat and desire couldn’t be faked or denied. Other guys crowded around him, yet he stood out. Real, raw and totally under my control. I admit, I liked the power. It invigorated me. Similar to the way his eyes followed me in the gym, like he was memorizing my body and filing it away for a later date.
“What’s he doing now?” I ask, taking another sip of the dangerously good margarita.
“He’s in deep conversation with Smoke and Blood,” Marisol reports. “If only I could read lips.”
I desperately want to clear my mind of the outlaw who knew my brother and did business with my captors. I can’t afford falling down any rabbit hole with a bad-ass biker who could turn my life upside down with the touch of his hand or a night of steamy, sheet gripping, out-of-control sex.
“Can I get you ladies anything else?” Jared interrupts our moment of espionage, jogging me out of my disturbing thoughts and images.
I hold up my glass. “These are really delicious.”
Maxie motions to me. “Keep them coming.”
“No, really,” I protest.
Marisol winks at Jared like they’re in on some private conspiracy.
Jared goes about making these delicious concoctions, and Maxie zones in on Diesel again. “Huh, that’s interesting.”
“What?” I squirm in my seat, but I stay facing her.
“They just called over Ricky, and after some arm flailing and short sentences, Ricky’s heading for the dressing room.” Maxie throws me a devilish grin. “Diesel’s staring at your back, and honestly I’m surprised your dress hasn’t combusted.”
Jared returns with yet another margarita, removes my empty glass, then waits until I take a sip of the newly made drink.
“Perfection.”
I reach over the bar and cover his hand with mine. “You’re perfection too.”
Maxie chuckles behind me, but I forge on, boosted by sisterhood and two and a half margaritas. “I can’t believe we’ve never met before.”
“That’s because you live like a hermit and never leave your room,” Maxie chimes in.
“I’m glad you decided to leave your room tonight.” Jared flashes one of his award-winning smiles.
“Me too.”
“We close the bar at two, and I know an after-hours place we could go.”
