Page 5 of Blaze

“Why are you at my bar, Blaze?” she demands before turning back to the dirty beer glasses and dishwasher rack.

I lean forward, resting my forearms on the bar. The Styx might look like the typical dive bar, but Sydney runs a tight, clean ship. If I’d wanted a drink, I’d have sat with the rest of the club, so she knows something’s up. I jerk my head towards the door, towards Claire. I can feel her moving closer now, wary. Girl’s got secrets and trust issues, that’s for sure.

“Picked up a rescue twelve miles out,” I say.

Sydney’s eyes clock Claire, but she doesn’t stop loading the dishrack. “That’s my business why?”

“Car’s going to need repairs.” Claire joins me at the bar finally, and I give her a wink. Her cheeks turn pink, obvious to me even in the dim lighting. “Chainz is going to tow it in tomorrow, then it could be a few days. She needs a place to stay.”

Sydney loads the rack into the bar’s dishwasher with a grunt and then heads our way. She barely glances at Claire, her hands on her hips. “So drop her off at the motel,” she says with a sniff.

“Come on, Syd,” I cajole. “I wouldn’t even make the probies stay there. Ya know Marty hasn’t had a customer in the last decade and those rooms haven’t been opened in that whole time. I know you got that room upstairs.”

“I can pay,” Claire says, then clears her throat when Sydney’s glare moves to her. “If that’s the issue. And I’ll only need one night.”

I twist, angling myself towards her. This’ll be interesting. “Oh?”

She eyes me and I can’t help but smirk. Something about this woman makes my cock come alive. And every time she looks at me with suspicion, I want to tease her secrets out of her. With my lips, my hands, my cock—whatever it takes.

“I’m on a strict time table,” Claire says, keeping her nose up like she’s in some boardroom and not a biker bar. “If the car can’t be fixed by tomorrow evening, I want to trade it in for a new one so I can be on my way by tomorrow night.”

Claire’s voice is stuffy and proud, full of expectations, but the way she holds herself says there’s more to it. I’m not the only one who notices. Sydney crosses her arms.

“You running from something, girl?” Sydney’s eyes pin Claire in place, and Claire squares her shoulders.

“I just want to be on my way by tomorrow night.”

Sydney studies her and Claire doesn’t back down. Lady’s got steel for a spine—Reaper’s the only one who doesn’t eventually cave against Sydney. Whatever the bar’s owner is looking for, she must find it since Sydney nods sharply and wipes her hands off on a bar rag before indicating with her head that Claire should follow her.

“I’ll show you up, then,” the woman says, and I grin. Sydney might be a mean, tough woman but she’s a softy under it all. She gets it from her old grandpa, Red. He raised her ever since her parents were murdered by the shifters that tried to take over the town.

Claire gives me a look but heads to follow Sydney to the far right side of the bar where a swinging door separates the back of the bar. The raven-haired beauty doesn’t spare me a second glance after she leaves my side, and I take full advantage of staring at her tight ass and compact curves before she disappears. My cock is a steel bar in my jeans and I adjust myself with a shake of my head.

Before heading over to the others, I step behind the bar and grab two dark bottles of beer with the label of our club. Cinder, another rider, brews the stuff, and it packs a punch even us demons can feel. When I drop into an open seat, I hit the bottle cap against the edge of the table to pop it open and take a long drink of the cold, hop-heavy beer.

“Syd’s going to catch you one day and fuck you up,” Heathen says with a grin.

I flip him off. Heathen looks exactly like his road name. He’s seven feet of pure muscle and pagan rage, his entire body covered in blue runic tattoos and designs. His head is shaved, save for the top, which he wears back in a long, single, thick braid. On each side of his skull, he’s got a raven’s head tattooed in knotwork. The rest of the bird wraps down his neck, then the wings fan out over his chest and back. His cut—like the rest of ours—is sleeveless, and he never wears a shirt unless ordered by Reaper, so his tats are always on full display.

Him with those tats and his wild blue eyes always attracts the crazy fucking chicks. And that’s just the way he likes it.

“New chick is something,” Bones murmurs in that quiet, fucking-creepy tone of his. He’s tall like the rest of us, but he’s lean, thin. The fucker’s embraced his gaunt human appearance by tattooing a skull over the tight skin of his face—one reason for his road name. People always underestimate him though, since he looks skinny. But he more than holds his own in a fight. His demonic abilities lean towards the shadows and—the other reason for his road name—the manipulation of bones. If it’s got a skeleton, Bones can fuck with it. “I bet that pussy is sweet.”

My grip tightens on the beer bottle, and I have to resist the urge to smash Bones’ jaw with my fist. Chainz and Brute look at me, but I just take another drink of beer. Claire isn’t mine just because she rode into town on my bike, and Bones has every right to say what he wants. Besides, Bones is all fucking talk.

“Stick with the local pussy,” Brute spits out and Chainz grunts in agreement. “You saw her ride. Woman like that has money and class. She’s probably got a fancy lawyer or broker boyfriend waitin’ for her.”

Brute, despite his name, is the one with the most brains. He looks like his name, with a face only a mama could love with how many hits he’s taken. Ragged, wild blond hair falls to his shoulders. When he’s not on the job, he’s usually got his nose buried in a book or a tablet. The demon hardly gets his dick wet, too busy researching about the latest technology or some shit. He’s the main engineer around here, but half the time he’s so busy with his own side projects, he needs me in the shop to handle shit.

“Exactly,” I agree with him, and Brute nods at me.

Chainz doesn’t say shit but grunts when I remind him I volunteered his tow truck services.

To the rest, I explain what she’d told Sydney.

“Won’t find many options around here,” Chainz says, shaking his head. “Picked a hell of a place to break down.”

Brute’s already back on his phone, which looks hilariously small in his big fist. Heathen and Bones have their beers in hand, and Heathen agrees with Chainz.

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