“Yeah, but I’ll kill you.”
“Fuck you.” Stillman must have believed him because he sighed. “Go to the laundromat. Ask for machine thirteen. There ain’t no fucking thirteen. They’ll give you a number to text. It’s different every fucking time. Text it, and they text you back a location. That’s all. Now will you please get the fuck out of here before someone realizes what I told you.”
The distinct clicking of a shotgun being primed had Saint’s spine snapping straight.
“S-Saint…” Beth’s eyes widened as she tried to find the source of the familiar sound. Most likely, someone hiding in the shadows in the barn got tired of their presence.
“Unless you want the entire MC tearing this place apart, you’d better call off your guard dog, Stillman.”
The scrawny guy lifted a hand. “Let them leave,” he shouted. Surprising as it was, given his physical appearance, Stillman seemed to be in charge, or at least had a lot of sway. “Go. Next time you show up here, we’ll shoot on sight.”
“I’ll shoot myself before I come back here. Take care of yourself, Stillman, maybe buy a fucking toothbrush.” With that parting shot, he guided Beth back to the bike at a rapid clip, feeling the sight of the shotgun on his ass the entire time.
She didn’t need any instructions. She immediately climbed on the bike and jammed the helmet on her head. As he settled in front of her, she gripped his hips tighter than usual and rested her helmet against his back. “That was intense,” she whispered. “But we got what we came for.”
“You did good, Beth. You’re a good-fucking-wing woman.”
Though impossible, he swore he could feel her smile as he sped off, leaving his past where it belonged, firmly in his rearview.
CHAPTER TEN
SOME PEOPLE COULD tie a cherry stem with their tongue, wiggle their ears, or bend their thumb back so far it touched their forearm. Beth had her own party trick. One she’d never bothered to mention to anyone but had honed to perfection over the years. With a quick inhale, she could almost, to the brand, tell what someone was smoking. The easy ones were cigarettes, cigars, and weed. She’d grown up smelling all three regularly. Over the years, she’d noticed subtle differences in types and brands, leading up to today, where she stood in the clubhouse, detecting the rich and bold notes of Jigsaw’s favorite Padrón cigars.
She inhaled deeply, holding the comforting aroma of easier times in her lungs. It’d been too long since she had been surrounded by anything other than the stale ashtray odor of Jason’s Pall Malls.
“You know, you don’t have to suck in second-hand smoke to get your fix. Jig will be more than happy to share his cigars.”
Beth turned her head to find Lindsey sliding onto a barstool next to her. Her friend practically yelled to be heard over the ear-splitting rock music.
“I’m good,” she said with a chuckle as her face heated. “Just being a weirdo and sucking in the scents of my childhood.”
Lindsey tilted her head and studied her with a scrunched look of confusion.
“Jig started smoking those specific cigars when I was twelve or so.” She shrugged. “Smells like my childhood.”
“That’s sweet. My childhood smelled like desperation and poverty.” Lindsey winced. “Wow, I made that dark. Ignore me. I’m in a strange mood.”
Beth tilted the neck of her beer bottle Lindsey’s way. “Cheers to that. I’ve been in a strange mood since I came home.”
Smiling, Lindsey tapped her glass to the bottle. “To pulling our heads out of our asses.”
“I’ll drink to that.” They sipped their drinks, then Beth leaned in. “You look hot tonight. Trying to impress anyone?”
Dressed in a leather miniskirt, leopard print halter top that showed a generous amount of cleavage, and cowgirl boots, Lindsey looked like she’d come ready for the hunt.
“Nah,” she said with a shake of her head. “No one in particular, though I’m hoping someone will give me an orgasm or two tonight.” She sighed. “It’s been way too long, and while I love my vibrator, I started talking to it last week. I figure that means it’s been too long since I’ve had a human man in my bed.”
Beth burst out laughing. “It’s only concerning if the vibrator talks back.”
“Oh shit. It hasn’t gotten that bad yet.” They laughed together, clinking their drinks again.
The MC party had been in full swing for the past few hours. All around her, men and women drank, danced, smoked, and hooked up. Her parents sat at a table in the corner with some of the others who’d been around for decades, while the younger patched members danced and worked to reel in their nightly conquest.
Civilians, or those not raised in MC culture, might find the scene weird or inappropriate, but to Beth, it represented home. The loud music, the testosterone-fueled atmosphere, the free-flowing booze, and even blatant public displays of affection were all so familiar that something inside her ached while at the same time tension uncoiled. This was where she and everyone in herclub family could be their authentic selves without judgment, and she hadn’t realized the hole leaving home left in her life.
But she was back now, and with each passing day, she thought she might stay for good.
“Hey, I’m gonna go chat with Rizz. Wanna come?”
