Chapter One
Muerto leaned againstthe bar admiring the way the woman’s ass moved as she bent low to take a shot at a ball near the left pocket of the pool table. He was surprised she could even bend in her tight-as-sin jeans, and her top inched up just enough to expose a glimpse of skin.
“She’s got a nice ass,” Crow said behind him.
“She’s a looker, that’s for fuckin’ sure.” Muerto raised his beer bottle to his lips, his eyes never leaving her tight curves.
“She’s damn hot, but she doesn’t know much about the game.” Crow laughed. “She was in the other night and she lost her ass. Last night she did a little better, but she’s got a long way to go.”
“Most of the guys in here don’t play so hot, except for Willy and Gator. I’m sure the guys are playing with her just to get a peek at her tits when she bends over. Hell, I’ll play a game with her for that chance.” Muerto pushed off the counter and went behind the bar. “How was business the last couple of nights?”
“Steady,” Crow said.
Balls and Holes was the pool hall owned by the Night Rebels MC. It was a classic dark and smoky players’ hall, not one of the upscale billiard rooms with loud music and video games. It was one of the last of the old-school pool halls, refusing to be muscled out by the new chic ones that had been sprouting around the county and Durango, the large neighboring city.
The pool hall had chalk-covered floors and high-backed wooden chairs against the walls so spectators could watch the game. There were six green felt pool tables at the center of the room, and an old jukebox in the corner. The place was dark with low ceilings, and the smoke from cigarettes and weed curled around the players. No one seemed to care about the law forbidding smoking in public places; they came to play pool and watch people play as they threw back some beers. It was the gathering hole in its most basic form.
Muerto and Crow ran the place, making sure the bar was stocked and the fights didn’t get out of hand. The bar had a large selection of beer and hard liquor, and for friends and long-time customers, the brothers would pull out bottles of Jack Daniels No. 27 Gold and Gran Patrón Platinum. For the most part, pretzels, peanuts, and popcorn were the only food served.
“Is Zach working tonight?” Crow asked. Zach was the citizen bartender in the place. They’d hired him about six months back, and so far the twenty-eight-year-old was working out nicely. With his fit body, he was an asset when they needed another hand to throw out an unruly group.
“Nah. He wanted the night off. I knew you and I could handle it tonight.” Muerto placed the glasses he’d washed on a towel to dry.
“Two more Jacks and a couple of vodkas on the rocks. Boy, am I beat,” Jaime said as she rubbed her neck.
“You need some help with that?” Crow smiled.
Jaime shook her head and turned to Muerto. “You want me to wash the rest of the glasses? That’s not really man’s work.”
“Thanks, but I got it.” He placed her drink order on the tray and watched as she swayed her hips. She was one of two waitresses at the joint, and her jeans fit nicely around her body, but she was nothing like the black-haired cutie who had just lost the game.
“That’s the way it rolls, baby. Look at it this way—you’re doing better than you did the last two nights,” a stocky man in his late twenties with a crew cut said while he scooped up the bills on the side of the table.
“You got me. I’m done,” her dark, sultry voice washed over Muerto like velvet. He straightened up and gazed at her; she piqued his interest.
“Why don’t you play another game with my buddy?” another stocky man with short hair said, placing an arm around the woman’s opponent. “What do ya say, Cory?”
Cory nodded. “If you want, I’ll play another game with you. Maybe you’ll get lucky like you did earlier.”
The slender woman glanced at the wall clock. “I don’t know. How much are you betting?”
“A hundred bucks?”
She whistled. “That’s a lot of money. What about fifty?”
Cory grinned. “You’re on.”
Muerto turned away. “I’d sure like to squeeze my hand down her jeans and see how soft her pussy is,” he said to Crow.
“I’d be right behind you, dude.” Crow picked up a box and walked out of the bar. “I’m gonna go over our inventory. If you need me, give me a holler.”
Muerto nodded and watched as Jaime approached the bar. When he’d hired her the year before, he thought she was good-looking with her shoulder-length brown hair, brown eyes, and curvy body. But he knew she was off-limits since she worked for the club. The Night Rebels never mixed pleasure with business, not even at their strip bar, Lust. He suspected she had a small crush on him, but it didn’t surprise him; most women did. The other waitress, Brandy, was always flirting with him and brushing against him whenever she had to come behind the bar. He knew he could have both of them and probably at the same time, but they were the club’s employees.
Six feet of hard muscle turned a lot of women’s heads. Add dark, thick hair, a strong jaw, full lips, and intense black eyes and women practically drooled when they saw him. And he loved the attention he got from them. Unlike most of the brothers, he enjoyed going out with citizens, relishing the drama that would ensue when a woman found out he was fucking another one. Whenever that happened, they’d turn on each other instead of him, and he loved that they fought over him; it made his blood boil. But when they got too possessive and started talking about relationships and marriage, he disappeared into the arms and pussies of the club girls who knew the score.
The only downside to angering so many citizen women was that he was constantly changing his phone number, and that pissed off his brothers big time, especially Steel. He figured it was a small price to pay for the challenge of pursuing a woman and getting her into his bed. The club girls were too easy and they were always available. There wasn’t any drama except for the usual chick stuff, but they knew they were at the club for all the brothers alike, and that’s what they wanted as well.
What he liked about being with a citizen was that she was his alone, and she was totally centered on him until he grew bored and moved on. When he’d go to the biker rallies the club had a couple of times a year in the San Juan Valley, he’d have a bevy of women glaring at him, wanting to tear him to pieces. He’d just wink at them and go his own way, scouting for another woman to conquer. There was always a good supply of enamored, willing women to seduce.
