Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
I giggled. “I can’t even afford a new cell phone, let alone a motorcycle.”
Sara winked at me, then her eyes caught the clock and they widened.
“Oh, fuck! Look at the time. You got about two seconds to punch in or Bone will shit bricks.”
Diving for the time clock, I grabbed my card and shoved it into the machine, then held it up triumphantly.
“Made it!”
“Great. Now get out there and sell some drinks,” she said. “And remember—don’t be afraid to show off that red bra. I need you to buy a new phone. This lack of communication is seriously fucking with my night. Now I have lizard fingers and no lotion.”
She raised her hands like claws and gave a mock roar. Laughing, I pushed out the door and started down the hallway, because Sara was definitely right about one thing—I really did need a new phone, and I’d be damned if I’d ask my sister for a loan to buy one. I’d moved to Bumfuck Nowhere to help her and the kids, not to mooch. I was big on personal responsibility these days, unlike my ex-husband (who was hopefully burning in hell).
That’s what you get for marrying someone named Trevor.
The bar was hopping by the time I made it to the floor and Bone—bartender, owner and all around scary guy—shoved a tray of drinks at me before I even had time to look over the table assignments.
“We’ve got the Reapers coming in,” he said, his voice blunt and harsh. “They’ll be in the back room. That means we’ll have a different kind of crowd tonight. Less mom and pop bikers and more wannabes and hangarounds. Could be interesting. Don’t fuck up.”
“You always make me feel so special and wanted,” I said, wrinkling my nose at him. Bone grunted, but I saw a hint of humor in his eyes. He was a good guy, despite the whole prize-fighter vibe he had going for him. The Pit was a biker bar, which meant flirting came with the job, yet he always took care of his girls. All we had to do was say the word and he’d throw out anyone who got too handsy.
Grabbing the tray, I carried it across the room, ducking and weaving around big guys wearing leather and sexy babes in tight shirts. Everyone was laughing and having fun, which was one of my favorite things about working here. These guys came to the Pit for a good time, and that’s exactly what we gave them—booze, music, a little bit of dancing and a whole lot of action.
Throw in the fact that my sister’s place was only a couple miles away and the job was a perfect fit.
The first hour of my shift passed in a blur, busy enough that I didn’t notice the time but not so busy people got pissy waiting for their drinks. I’d just leaned across the bar to give Bone a fresh order when the door opened and the room quieted.
The Reapers Motorcycle Club had arrived.
There were probably ten of them total, dressed in leather and patches and so much pure badassery it radiated through the room like a shock wave. I halfway expected heavy metal theme music to start playing spontaneously. I’d met a few of them before—they had a chapter over in Cranston, which was only thirty miles from Violetta. Rebel’s riding club had hosted a barbecue last month, and the Reapers had come with all their assorted old ladies and hangers-on.
At the time, I’d been startled at how everyone treated them—almost like visiting royalty. Now I knew a lot more about biker culture, including the fact that in the world of casual riding clubs, true outlaws like the Reapers really were royalty.
Then their king walked in, and everyone got real quiet.
Shade.
He surveyed the bar, radiating a kind of cold, icy authority that gave me the shivers every time I saw him. When I first met Rebel, I’d teased him about having a crush on Shade because my new boyfriend couldn’t stop talking about the man. Then I’d met Shade in person. Now I got it. Rebel worked hard to make sure everyone knew he was a big, bad biker.
Shade didn’t have to work at it.
He just was big and bad.
According to Bone, Shade was the youngest national president in Reapers Motorcycle Club history. One of the girls at the barbecue told me he was a killer. Apparently he’d been arrested for murder, then gotten off on a technicality. Not that this seemed to bother her. She’d been all breathless and sighing, and later I’d spotted Shade pushing her up against a tree, skirt around her waist. He’d been devouring her mouth while she frantically clawed at his pants.
Apparently the whole murderer thing wasn’t a deal breaker.
Shade’s eyes caught mine, and I froze, feeling like he could see all the way down to my soul. In that instant, I completely understood why that girl had let him fuck her against a tree. The man radiated power, strength and raw sex. He was the biggest, nastiest bastard in the room—not to mention easy on the eyes—and deep down inside I just knew we’d make beautiful babies together. Too bad I already sort of had a boyfriend… Shade was so potent we’d probably have quintuplets or something crazy on the first try.