His smirk widens. “All good, Em.”
The gate slides open behind him.
He gestures deeper into the compound. “Park over by the garage.”
“Thanks.”
I drive in slowly and immediately realize this party is way bigger than I imagined.
Bikes.
Everywhere.
Rows and rows of motorcycles stretch across the lot, with cars scattered around—probably fifteen or twenty mixed in.
My little yellow Beetle stands out like a cartoon character in the midst of it all.
But honestly?
I love this thing, so I don’t care.
I park where he directed me and step out, glancing around.
People are everywhere.
Music drifts from the clubhouse, laughter echoing outside.
But I don’t recognize anyone, which means…
Time to go inside.
I take a steadying breath and walk toward the doors.
The second I step inside, the noise doubles.
The clubhouse is packed.
Men wearing leather cuts from different clubs crowd the room. Some lean against the bar; others cluster around tables, laughing loudly.
Women are everywhere too.
Some cling to men’s sides, while others wander around nearly naked.
Tiny shorts. Bikini tops. Dresses that barely count as clothing.
A few brush their bodies against the men like they’re putting on a show.
It’s… a lot.
I head straight for the bar.
I definitely need that drink.
Thank God I’m finally off the pain meds for my arm.
I glance down briefly at my casted wrist.
Still ugly.
