Page 142 of Sweet Temptation

The black ink made splatter patterns around the letters, like blood, with bullet holes in it.

It was the insignia of the Bloody Bastards MC.

“Ronan,” Justice said. “Meet my boys.” Then he introduced the guys to me. I paid closest attention to the name of the guy with the Bastards tattoo on his arm.

Boasty.

Not a real name. Maybe a nickname, maybe a road name.

I hung out for a few minutes, pretended to be into their conversation. Some party story about a dude they knew having his balls glitter-glued to his thigh at a party. I didn’t even know what the fuck “glitter-glued” as a verb entailed, but I wasn’t interested in that.

Justice’s eyes were black as eight balls. His buddies were all high or drunk. And his biker friend—while friendly enough, given Justice’s endorsement of me as “my sister’s man”—smiled less than the others.

I wasn’t sure if I should correct Justice on his facts.

High as he was, it probably wouldn’t matter tomorrow anyway. And pointing out I wasn’t Summer’s boyfriend might just raise eyebrows about who the fuck I was, then.

After a few minutes, I slipped away.

Andre was still watching Summer from the back deck.

“Get a look?” he asked me.

“That’s quite some art.” I took a small sip of my beer in my continued efforts to “blend in.” “Seems like a real nice guy.”

“You know, it’s nice to see you making friends, Ronan.”

“Seems like Justice Sorensen has some interesting ones.”

“I’ve been looking,” he said. “Don’t see anyone else with ink like that. But it’s October. People are pretty covered.”

“Yeah.” I’d been scoping out the crowd all night myself, and while I didn’t see any evidence that any of the other guests were hardcore bikers, including a distinct lack of motorcycles in the driveway, the vibe of the party was definitely… shifting… as the night wore on. Many of Justice’s friends weren’t exactly the type of dudes I’d invite for Sunday dinner.

“What’re you thinking?” Andre asked me.

“I’m thinking we get Summer out of here as soon as we can.” I nodded over at the treehouse. She was talking to the other DJ now, but standing back from the deck. “Looks like she’s maybe finished up there. I’ll go talk to her.”

I was just about to wander over there, beer in hand, when a bunch of guys emerged from the house, talking. They walked past me, heading down the steps to the yard. Among them was Justice. And Boasty.

“I’m thinking your new friend might be carrying,” Andre said, leaning into me a bit. “Left ankle.”

I looked the biker over, and his jeans definitely weren’t baggy enough to fully conceal it. Something was there, on his left ankle, under his jeans and above his boot. I could see it when he walked.

I hadn’t noticed it when I scoped him out in the house.

Could’ve been a knife.

Could’ve been a loaded gun, too.

“I see that,” I said, setting my beer down on the deck railing. “All the more reason to get the fuck out of here.”

Chapter Eighteen

Ronan

Andre, Summer and I left the party at her brother’s house without incident. I was surprised, actually, that she didn’t give me any static about leaving.

When I went to ask her how long she wanted to stay, she claimed she was tired, something I’d never heard her admit before.

---