Chapter One
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Each time a woman headed my way, I expected her to slide into the booth across from me and introduce herself as Ainsley Valois. And each time a woman nodded to me but kept walking, I asked myself what the fuck was I thinking. I’d let Louisiana, our chapter’s RC, talk me into a fucking blind date.
What did that motherfucker do? Directed me to a Cajun restaurant, when my tastebuds firmly laid with barbeque.
Grabbing my brew, I gulped the last bit of it, set the mug down and drummed my fingers on the table. One fucking thing I hated was tardiness. My mystery woman was a half hour late and I was ready to fucking bail. I’d prefer listening to Louisiana schooling my ass on his state’s culture than continuing to wait on a chick who couldn’t tell the fucking time.
A girl headed in my direction and my fucking tongue nearly dropped to the table. She was stunning, drawing the attention of every red-blooded male in the place. Dark hair cradling her face and cascading down her back. Smooth, olive skin revealed in a jean miniskirt and a crop top. Luscious tits, a small waist, hips that flared just right, and long legs perfect to wrap around my back.
As she drew closer, though, I winced and turned my head away. Disappointment surged into me. She was young—too fucking young for me. Women had been my pastime for years and—
“Are you Reese?” She glanced at my embroidered name patch and nodded. “You are.”
Her eyes were whiskey colored, her lips pink. Inches away from me, she was even more gorgeous. My cock jumped and my nostrils flared. A delicate floral scent wafted to me.
“Ainsley?” I put no inflection into my voice. Nothing to give away the lust punching me in the gut.
Smiling, she held out her delicate hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Her slender fingers gripped my big paw in a firm handshake, then she slid into the booth across from me.
“Don’t be cross with me. I’m so sorry I’m late. Nova has been on my ass since I told her I was stuck in traffic.”
Nova was Louisiana’s side piece, and the link to my blind date. Out of respect to his ol’ lady, I’d never met Nova. I was complicit just knowing about his bullshit. Motherfucker couldn’t bring her to the Devil’s Pit—our clubhouse—with his ol’ lady running the fucking bar. Jinx would slice his dick off.
“Lou Lou reiterated I had to be on time.”
I lifted a brow. “You call Louisiana ‘Lou Lou’?”
Settling her elbow on the table, she leaned closer. “He says we can’t call him Louisiana or Keir,” she confided, referring to his given name. “What with his ol’ lady and all.”
Lou Lou? Sounded like something a favorite aunt called her adorable nephew. Wait ‘til I got back to the fucking clubhouse. The next time that motherfucker warned me about the pronunciation of New Orleans, I’d punch him in his fucking mouth.
Ainsley cleared her throat. “Right? I mean, he does have one, doesn’t he?”
“An ol’ lady?”
She nodded.
If I hadn’t ratted him out to Jinx, I certainly wouldn’t open my mouth to this girl. I thought she and her friend knew Louisiana’s marital status. Apparently, he didn’t confine his fuckery only to Jinx. I shrugged. “You tell me.”
“I say yes, but Nova says no.”
My waitress bounced to the table, tits jiggling underneath her tight purple top. She frowned at Ainsley, sniffed, and glared at me. When she’d brought me my second beer, she’d offered to blow me out back. As much as I once liked a hot mouth on my cock and balls, Monster hadn’t even stirred.
Now, he was hard as stone. For Ainsley.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Mardi Gras,” she chirped, smiling at Mira, the waitress. “And I love those green jeans. You should find a gold-colored belt.”
“There’s an idea,” Mira agreed, thawing. “My boss wants me to wear these ugly gold shoes. I won’t be caught dead in those things, so I might take your suggestion. Would you like a drink?” She listed sodas and other non-alcoholic offerings.
“I want a Hurricane,” Ainsley announced, set her purse on the table, and proceeded to pull out her ID.
Scowling, I scrubbed a hand over my face and reached for my beer, too late remembering I needed a refill.
“See? Twenty-one as of June 30th.”
Mira glanced from Ainsley to me and smirked. “Hurricane coming right up. Do you need another beer, Reese?” she purred.
I didn’t miss Ainsley’s frown at Mira’s blatant flirting. But, fuck, young chicks weren’t my thing. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on Louisiana. What kind of fucking joke was this?
“Yeah, babe,” I answered, ignoring Ainsley’s clenching jaw. “I need more than that.”
I definitely didn’t dig jealous bitches, young or old. My cock deflated and my grief returned. Trinity had been so fucking perfect. I should’ve had her on the back of my bike as my woman rather than just a club rat I fucked. In the last weeks of her life, I’d taken steps to make that happen and ordered my brothers to keep their dicks away from her. Though Razor as Prez and Jester as VP outranked me, they’d backed away from her, too.
I just hadn’t been able to bring myself to commit, then she was killed, and I missed her every fucking day. Six months later, I still mourned her.
“Whatever you want I’m willing to give, Reese,” Mira cooed. “In the meantime, your drinks are coming right up.” She winked at me, swept Ainsley with another look, and sashayed away.
Silent, Ainsley saved her ID, placed her wallet back in her purse, and zipped it closed. Her movements were jerky.
The date was already a bust. She was too fucking young; she had my fucking attention more than I liked; and she was the jealous type. No reason why I shouldn’t light into her and send her packing.
I opened my mouth, but her glare fizzled my anger.
“I’m not here for a great romance, Reese,” she started. “I’m here for a good time and nothing else. You’re a biker, so I especially don’t want long-term with you. I’ve had enough of them to last a fucking lifetime. But this is what I’m not doing: sitting here simpering and watching pathetically, while other women fall all over you, you eat that shit up and arrange a cock suck or a quick fuck in front of my face. You want Mira as your date for the evening?” She slid out of the seat and stormed to her feet; her whiskey eyes narrowed. “Be my guest and have her.”
I didn’t think. I acted out of instinct, grabbing her wrist and halting her. Our gazes met, clashed, and my heart pounded. The angry flush on her cheeks, the indignation in her eyes, affected me in an indescribable way. The feel of her delicate wrist, her furious pulse pounding against my fingertips, sent a bolt of electricity down my spine.
“I’m sorry,” I heard myself say, when I never apologized to anyone. I owned my motherfuckery. “Stay.” She said she only wanted a little fun. I convinced myself that she spoke a truth I could accept. “I’m always a beast when I’m hungry.”
“Lou Lou should’ve warned me. I would’ve brought raw meat to throw at you until we were served our food.”
“Sassy little bitch.”
She smiled and relaxed. “Survival tactic.”
Chuckling, I released her and nodded to the booth. “Sit,” I ordered.
“How can I deny such a heartfelt request?”
Huffing, she slid back into her seat, and I followed suit. Mira walked up to the table, carrying a tray with our drinks.
“Can I have a word with you?” she asked, placing her hand on my bicep once she set our drinks in front of us.
Ainsley wrapped her pink lips around the straw and took a delicate sip, the promise of heaven in her eyes. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to tempt me so she’d be my sole focus or if she was hiding a powder keg of anger in the gesture. Straightening, she darted her tongue out and licked her lips, her expression suddenly unreadable. One minute, she offered me a glimpse of passion, and the next I didn’t know what the fuck she was thinking.
“It won’t take long,” Mira pressed.
“I’m not interested,” I told her, unable to take my focus away from Ainsley long enough to impart that.
“Asshole,” Mira hissed, and stomped away.
“I vote for no tip,” Ainsley said. “At least, I’m not tipping her. You do what you want with your half.”
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Image Licensed from Period Images
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Reese Sinclair was the answer to my prayers. I definitely owed Nova and Lou Lou for choosing a man that I could fall hard for if I allowed myself. Unfortunately, Roman would classify Reese and Lou Lou as mortal enemies. My best friend’s man knew the danger he placed himself in—Reese didn’t. But desperate times called for desperate measures. In all fairness, I hadn’t realized my blind date would be one of Lou Lou’s brothers. I thought it was a friend outside of the life.
On the other hand, this was Lou Lou.
I should’ve known better than to trust him with setting me up on a date when I really didn’t trust him with Nova. His sudden absences without explanation; his insistence we couldn’t call him by his road name or his given name; the out-of-way places he took us; and so many other signs that indicated he had another woman. He knew Nova was my best friend and the daughter of the local Bloody Scorpion president. Sometimes, I believed he strung her along for that reason. That dickhead would find humor in sending me on a date with an enemy of my brother’s club. Fucking asshole. I did not. My brother meant the world to me, even when I wanted to wring his neck.
Upon the deaths of our parents, Roman dedicated his life away from the club to me. He moved back home, helped me with my homework, learned to cook, and handpicked club girls to babysit me when he couldn’t allow me to tag along. He could’ve easily sent me away and turned his back on the grieving ten-year-old I’d been. But we were close, my parents, brother, and I. Just as our father had been a Bloody Scorpion, Roman had only just become a full patch member, when our parents were shot and killed.
Roman obsessed over my safety. He’d tapped a councilman’s son to marry me. The guy was planning to move to New York, a perfect distance between me and trouble in Roman’s eyes. Except I couldn’t stand the arrogant fuckhead he’d chosen for me and I had yet to accept.
However, every guy I chose wasn’t good enough. If I couldn’t have my dates at the clubhouse, Roman went with me and sat at the fucking table. He wanted someone he deemed worthy of me. He definitely didn’t want me with a biker.
This weekend, Roman took his flavor of the month away, and I made my move. I had one opportunity for freedom and rebellion. One chance to have my V-card punched without Roman ever finding out.
Reese continued gaping at me. Long enough to allow all the bullshit swimming through my head and threatening to pollute my date.
“You’re a virgin?” Reese managed finally.
I nodded. “It isn’t a crime against fucking humanity,” I grouched.
His gray gaze fell on my mouth, and I licked my lips. I tried my best not to clock his rippling muscles and full sleeves. The intensity on his face should’ve repelled me, but it drew me like nickel to a magnet. A square jaw gave way to a strong chin and firm, unyielding lips.
I sipped my Hurricane again. It tasted like shit—too much syrup—but whatever.
“Does Louisiana know?”
“Nova probably clued him in. I certainly don’t announce my sexual inexperience to random dudes.” I shook my head and sipped again. “It isn’t their fucking business.”
“That motherfucker definitely knew,” Reese said flatly. “I thought he was looking out for me.”
“He told me that you lost your lady friend a few months ago. He thought I’d cheer you up.”
Ignoring Reese’s curse, I went in for another sip.
“He had no fucking right bringing up Trinity Parker.”
I gasped mid-suck, sending the drink down the wrong way. Luckily, Reese believed my reaction stemmed from the liquid, not the fact that the woman Reese was mourning was my brother’s ex, whom he’d killed when he discovered her affiliation with the Royal Bastards.
“So you’re one of those 21st century chicks? Splitting checks. Opening your own doors. Getting yourself off. No swallowing.”
“You’re a biker. Modern or traditional, you likely aren’t a gentleman. Besides, we’re in the here and now, so that makes you a 21st century man, Reese.”
I could listen to the way my name rolled off her tongue for hours.
“However, I was always taught to pay my own way, especially on dates.” She shook her head. “Not that I’ve had many. My older brother gives new meaning to overprotectiveness.”
I took in her beautiful features again. “I can understand why. If you were my little sister, I’d fuck up any motherfucker who looked your way.”
“Oh my god! That is such a cave man thing to say.”
“Although I appreciate your independence, I’m footing tonight’s bill.”
She glanced around the restaurant with its wooden beams and floors, Mardi Gras colors, and photos of crayfish—crawfish according to Lou Lou—steamboats, and buildings I didn’t recognize but I presumed were somewhere in Louisiana.
“I will bet you a hundred bucks this food isn’t authentic.” She sipped her drink again. “The minute I taste a Louisiana dish, I know if the chef has ties there.”
“Interesting. What makes you such an expert?”
“My mother was born and raised in New Orleans. My father wasn’t, but they made it work.” Sadness flickered across her face. “They loved each other until the end.”
“How long ago did you lose them?”
“Eleven years ago. In a month. But my brother stepped up to the plate and took care of me like I was his own. He’s about your age. Fifteen years older than me.”
Ouch.
“You’re younger than I expected, though,” she continued. I was coming to realize Ainsley was very chatty. “Lou Lou told me you were his age.”
“That motherfucker! I’m not fucking forty-two. I’m thirty-one.”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.” Her gaze fell on my cut. “You’re a biker,” she reminded me again.
“Tell me about your brother. What’s his name? What does he do? Where does he hangout? I know a lot of motherfuckers, even those not connected to the life, so I might know him.”
“Does it matter?”
“Fuck yeah! I wouldn’t want a bullet in my ass if he sees us together. He sounds quite protective.”
“He is,” she admitted, sighing. “But he’s not here. He’s out of town and I’d like to push him back to the sidelines.”
“Agreed.” Ainsley sounded loyal to her brother, despite her frustration at his overprotectiveness. She knew Louisiana was a part of the Royal Bastards MC – Kansas City, which meant she knew my affiliation, too. Heaven forbid, her brother was somehow associated with the Bloody Scorpions. She wouldn’t knowingly cavort with the club’s enemy because I would be a foe of her brother as well. Assuming, of course, she knew all that much about that fucking club or any of his dealings with them. I returned to the topic of the restaurant. “Where would you like to eat?”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
Her question reminded me of the lie I’d blurted to get her to stay.
“Starving.”
She laughed, a happy, rich sound that touched my soul and lightened the darkness always chasing me. “You’re so full of shit.”
“I felt like an asshole and didn’t want you to leave,” I admitted. “Where do you want to go?”
“We’re here now. Let’s order.”
Once I summoned Mira, I nodded to Ainsley so she could go first.
“Your tip has gone down dramatically because we haven’t gotten our warm French bread and butter,” she started. She tossed her menu aside, leaned back, and folded her arms. “Remedy that, then we’ll order.”
Surprised laughter escaped me. Once Mira stormed away, I shook my head. “You’re going to get our food spat on.”
She picked up her menu and flipped it open. “Nova will bail me out because if that woman spits in my food, I’m beating her ass.”
“The face of an angel with the tongue of a devil.”
She smirked. “My brother would be furious with me if I end up arrested. He has this totally awesome future planned for me. His life’s goal is to see me safely married and far away from KC. Dude has my entire wedding planned. Huge budget. White gown. Veil over my face. The works.”
“Well, Miss 21st Century Woman, how very old-fashioned. You are aware a white gown and veil implies purity?”
“Who the hell would fuck me with my brother threatening castration?”
