Am I nervous or intimidated?
Or both?
These men could squash me between their fingers like a pea if they wanted to. They don’t want to—not yet, but that’s only because I’m worth something to them.
Who’s to say they won’t run me over with their Harleys as soon as they have what they want?
Vex opens the door and I cautiously step inside. A stuffed bald eagle welcomes me in with a hard stare which I feel the need to return, even though the creature is no longer breathing.
The other bikers in the room give me the same, piercing stare. Unlike the giant eagle they must worship, these stares actually mean something.
“Ignore them,” Carter says. “It’s not often we bring in outside girls.”
I don’t know whether to be endeared by that comment, or frightened.
“Oh.” I take a few more awkward steps forward in my sparkling lingerie. “Should I be flattered that you don’t attend sex auctions on a regular basis?”
“We attend them monthly.” Vex sits down at a free table and looks up at me.
“You must be fond of Conrad.”
“No,” Skipper interjects. “Nobody’s fond of Conrad, but he does put on a good show. He has good taste in women.”
I narrow my eyes at the boys as they all take a seat opposite me.
I have to be missing something here.
Vex, Skipper, and Carter could be the new heartbreak boy band of the century. I don’t doubt that women throw themselves at these men, plonk into their lap and do all kinds of nonsense.
Why are they buying women when they can get them for free?
“What would you like to drink?” Vex asks.
“Carmen won’t be drinking.”
Since when did Carter Trescott become my father?
“Gin, if you have it.”
“Of course.” Vex heads away and orders at the bar.
With his back turned, I take the opportunity to check him out from behind—just as broad as the rest of him. But it’s his hands that capture my attention the most. They’re careful. Precise. He speaks a lot with them as he converses with the bartender.
Vex is the kind of man who always wins a fight. It makes me wonder what he’s doing out here when he could be making thousands a night on the Strip as a security guard.
Maybe those paychecks aren’t quite as large as the ones from the motorcycle club…
“He’s a killer enforcer,” Skipper says, following my gaze.
“Who’s he killed?”
“It’s an expression.” Carter stares at me hard again. “He’s good at his job.”
“And what is ityoudo here?” I fold my arms over my chest and try to look at Carter without melting. “Is this another one of your hobbies whenever you need a breather from the business? How’s it going by the way? I’m surprised you haven’t found a way to make this conversation about yourself yet.”
“Milton’s Milkshakes has a new CEO,” Carter says matter-of-factly. “I sold the company.”
I frown. The ocean is more likely to turn green.
