Like thunder before lightning, the rumble of the bikes hits before they pull in and park out front.
“See you later!” I yell before heading out to meet my dates.
"Niiice." Piston looks me up and down like he'd peel my clothes off with his eyes if he could. “Maybe we should just head back to the clubhouse.”
“No way. My one request was somewhere away from the club, so if you can’t make it happen I guess I’ll have to find somewhere to party on my own.”
“Like fuck you will.” Zero rakes his icy blue gaze over me like he's cataloging every little detail for later. He’s the one I know the least, and it would be nice to change that. "You’re riding with me today. Those two assholes have had their turns."
"He’s got a point," Beast says with a laugh. “I suppose it’s only fair.”
Zero gives him a look, then smirks with a tiny roll of his eyes. Just a hint of friendly exasperation slipping through. "Let's go. I feel the call of a beer. Arms around me and hold on."
He doesn't have to ask me twice. Swinging my leg over the back of his bike, I settle up against him and wrap my arms around his powerful torso. My hands spread on his abs, I swear there's not a spot of softness anywhere. Zero is shredded.
"Hang on tight, lean when I do," he instructs over his shoulder, a clear, no nonsense command.
"Yes, Sir."
He stiffens, just for a moment, then it passes. His bike rumbles to life underneath us and we’re off to wherever they're taking me.
10
SANDRA
They takeme up on the highway towards the coast, leaving Detch and South Side in the dust behind us. Eventually the sprawl of the city is a beautiful glitter of lights in the dark, while the cool night air makes my hair flutter. I close my eyes and lean my cheek against Zero’s jacket and just enjoy the rumble beneath us.
A lot of people look down on this life. Scared by the actual danger of riding a motorcycle, or afraid of the looks and reputation, but from the inside, it doesn’t feel like that. I feel untouchable, and on a night like tonight, I can definitely see the appeal of life on the road, carefree and wild.
The roar of their engines is an unapologetic shout. “Take me for who I am and fuck anyone who can’t handle it.”
Eventually, we pull off the highway again, and after a few turns, find ourselves outside a bar hidden away in an old strip mall. Motorcycles line the sidewalk in front, and next to them bikers stand around drinking, smoking and talking. The stores on either side have blacked out windows, but there's a big neon one over the entrance, labeled the Burnout.
I climb off, just barely beating Beast to lifting me off. I'm grown, I can do this myself, as much as the idea of being held in his arms is tempting. And then I have to steady myself on him anyway, when my legs momentarily turn to jelly.
"Whoa, you okay?" He puts his arm around me and holds me close against him.
"Yeah, just haven’t ridden that far in a while." I find my legs, but it feels nice to be held, so I lean into it instead of pulling away. "What is this place?"
"They said you wanted somewhere away from the club, and since that ruled out the Eagles' Roost, we thought it would be good to take a drive. The Outlaw Sons hang here a lot and our clubs are on good terms these days, but no one who'd know anything about you." Zero shrugs. "Should be friendly. I think."
That sounds a little ominous, but before I can ask, we're heading in.
I haven’t been in a real biker bar in years, but it’s pretty much exactly what I would expect. Not quite as big as the Eagles’ Roost, but with the same smell of cigarettes, leather, beer and men. The combination of background music and loud chatter is deafening. There's a bar on the right, staffed by a beefy-looking guy with his head shaved as clean as a cue ball. A gold hoop hangs in one ear, and intricate tattoos cover his muscled arms and thick neck, emerging from his tight black T-shirt.
He looks up as we walk in, his thick eyebrows going up in surprise. "You bastards are a little far afield, aren’t you? Did some birdies fly the nest and get lost?" His gruff voice cuts through the noise like a knife.
The whole room quiets, other than the background music that suddenly seems way too loud. Heads turn and everyone takes a good look. It doesn’t feel outright hostile, but it’s not exactly a warm welcome.
"I thought you said they were on good terms," I hiss to Zero, who's closest, while I move to put him between me and them. What have they gotten us into?
"What's going on?" Beast asks. "We’re square with the Sons.”
The bartender narrows his eyes. “Whoop-de-doo. See, the last time a bunch of Eagles came in here, I had to spend the rest of the fucking day cleaning up the place. You're lucky Eagle-eye paid me for the broken counter, otherwise I wouldn't be this friendly." He taps beer into a glass and puts it down next to a guy who’s too busy watching the drama to notice.
"Not looking for trouble." Piston holds up both hands, palms facing out. "This isn’t club business, just passing through."
"I’m holding you to that." The bartender gives a nod, and relaxes, if only just a little bit. He looks at me first. "What'll you have, honey?"
