Soon the members and the women—both club girls and hoodrats—congregated near the food as Puck and Blade hurriedly set up a makeshift bar adjacent to the buffet table. Rock grabbed a spot at one of the aluminum picnic tables and scanned the crowd, soon spotting a pretty brunette whose hair ended right above her butt. As if she sensed him staring, she turned around and smiled at him, her eyes moving over his six-foot-one body.
Rock was a sight to behold with his dark wavy hair curling right above his collar, inky black eyes, strong jaw, and a perfect Roman nose. His tanned skin was taut above hard, defined muscles that moved and flexed in a mesmerizing way, making the tats adorning his flesh come alive. Several earrings dangled from each ear, and a thick silver-chained necklace gleamed against his corded neck. When women spotted him, they vied for his attention, but he’d walk past them, a smirk dancing on his full, sensuous lips. He knew women wanted him, and when they spotted the Sergeant-At-Arms patch on his cut or jacket, they promised him wild sex any way he wanted it. Sometimes he took them up on their offer, but most times he’d just smile and say, “Another time,” in a low, throaty voice that stroked the women’s senses like velvet. He rarely went with citizens, preferring the no-strings-attached sex the club women and hoodrats offered.
Kristy, one of the club girls, slipped in the space next to him, her nails running up and down his forearm. “You want me to get you a drink?”
Rock noticed the look of disappointment on the pretty brunette’s face as Kristy fused herself to his side. He slid over a bit and put a sliver of space between them. “I’ll get my own. Bones was looking for you.”
“I want you. Don’t you want me?”
His gaze lingered on her breasts as they practically popped out of a crop top a size too small for her. He’d licked, sucked, and fucked those tits more times than he could count. Kristy was a club girl who’d be available the following day, week, month, and, most probably, year. That night he wanted something new, not a club girl he could fuck any time. “I’ve already decided on someone, babe. Be a good girl and go find Bones.” He dipped his head down and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Tomorrow, okay?”
She squeezed his inner thigh, her fingers close to his dick. “We got a date for tomorrow. Where’s Bones?”
He lightly brushed her hand away and then jerked his head toward the back door. “He’s in the great room playing darts.”
Kristy stood up and he smacked her jiggling ass as she walked away from him. She threw him a big smile and headed toward the back door. He watched her until she disappeared, then turned back to find the cute brunette he wanted to bang. She was next to the buffet table, plate in hand, spooning some macaroni salad on it. He saw Rags giving her the eye and Rock scrambled over to her before Rags could reach her.
“You don’t want any steak?” he asked her.
She smiled broadly when she turned around and saw him. She shook her head. “I’m vegetarian.”
“How the fuck does that work? You never eat steak or ribs? How the hell can you live without them?”
She laughed and moved close to him so her orchid-scented body brushed against his. The softness of her touch, her scent, and her cute upturned nose made his dick jerk. He figured he’d be fucking her senseless right after they finished eating. With his arm around her shoulders, he carried her plate back to the table and pulled her close to him.
The night was turning out like most of his nights at the club: strong booze, delicious food, and hard fucking. He lived a hedonistic life of drinks, parties, and sex, and he couldn’t imagine what more a man could want.
The brunette leaned into him and placed her soft hand on his face, turning him to her. She kissed him passionately and moaned when his fingers kneaded her tits.
Another night in paradise.
Fuck yeah!
***
On Saturday eveningthe bodyguard brigade made the one-hour trip to Aspen to the lavish estate of Frederick Blair. Hidden behind thirty-foot stone walls, the Blair mansion had twelve bedrooms, sixteen bathrooms, twenty wood-burning fireplaces, and two kitchens. It also had a fully finished basement that was off-limits to the staff who lived and worked at the estate.
Rock whistled under his breath. “Fuck. The place looks like a hotel. You could fit a small town in there.”
“Why the hell would anyone want to live in something so big?” Axe asked. “Shit, if your woman is pissed at you, it could take a week to find her.”
The brothers laughed as they waited for the iron gate to open and let them in. In a few minutes they were roaring up the driveway, parking their iron machines to the left of the house in a small parking lot, as they had been instructed to do. They met with a large-framed man who sported a reddish-brown, bushy moustache. He tilted his head at them. “The name’s Kevin, and I’m head of security for Mr. Blair. Tonight your duties are making sure the outside is secure. Mr. Blair has five thousand acres, but you’ll be responsible to make sure no one gets near the house. Three of you will be stationed in the house and the others will be outside. Do you have any questions?”
Since Rock was the Sergeant-At-Arms, he was in charge of every security gig the club did. He shook his head. “It seems pretty basic. How long do you figure this shindig’s gonna last?” Rock didn’t want to waste an entire Saturday night babysitting a bunch of rich people.
“I don’t know. Mr. Blair will let you know when it’s over. Sometimes his parties can go all night, and other times just a few hours.” Kevin turned and pointed to Rock, Wheelie, and Bear, motioning them to follow him. “You three will do inside duty. The rest will be out here. I’ll be in and out all night, so let me know if you have any questions or need anything.”
The three brothers followed him to the house, entering and then staring up at a wood staircase that spiraled around an enormous wrought-iron chandelier that Rock surmised to be about three stories high. Their leather boots tapped loudly on the pristine white marble floor as the men followed Kevin into a spacious room that had large cushy couches, several armchairs, an enormous fireplace, and, in the back, a large wooden table with twelve chairs around it.
“This is where the party will be. Mr. Blair wants two of you present in the room and one in the front hallway. At no time does he want you to engage in conversation with him or his guests. You are not to talk with each other. Your job is to be alert for anything amiss, nothing more.”
Rock clenched his jaw. The prick was starting to piss him off. He looked over at Wheelie and Bear and saw their tight faces, and clenched fists. He chuckled inwardly. Insurgents didn’t like anyone telling them what the hell they could or couldn’t do. This Mr. Blair could take his rules and shove them up his ass.
Kevin bowed his head slightly. “I’ll leave you, then.” In a few seconds he was gone, disappearing down one of the many hallways.
“This is gonna fuckin’ suck,” Rock said to Bear and Wheelie, who nodded in agreement. “I can’t believe Banger got us into this shit.”
Before the other two bikers could answer, a tall, lean man in his early forties entered the room. He had blond hair and pale blue eyes surrounded by fine lines. He wore perfectly pressed khaki trousers and a lime-green sports shirt with yellow pinstripes. He smiled when he stopped before them, his too-white teeth looking ridiculous against his overly tanned face. “You must be the backup Liam promised me.”
