Page 59 of Snake

Chapter Fourteen

“Do you play pool?” Cox asked and threw Autumn for a small loop. She wasn’t sure why he was talking to her at all, he clearly didn’t like her and he apparently had his sights on the girl across the room, but here he was.

What a room it was. Her only prior understanding of what a bikers’ clubhouse looked like came from television, so she wasn’t surprised to find a large bar as a prominent feature. Nor was she shocked by the pinball games, the enormous TV, the various well-used seating arrangements, the impressive number of Harley posters and other branded décor, or the bulletin board of photos and other mementos that bordered on or crossed well into obscene territory. Hollywood had gotten those details right.

What surprised her, however, was the beautiful bar-top, a glossy, ruddy wood with an intricately carved rolled edge. And things like a large, elaborate chess set with the inlaid-wood board as the top of a table, where a game was clearly in progress. Or the full wall of family photos, of children and pets and wholesome memories like trips to beaches or amusement parks, or the kids’ play area below that wall. She was surprised by the number of scented candles scattered around the room and suspected that one of these men’s ‘old ladies’ was trying (and largely failing) to combat the smell of a lot of men being men. But most of all, she was surprised by the beautiful mosaic piece on the front wall, something like eight by eight feet in size, of the Night Horde patch, what they called the ‘Flaming Mane.’

That piece was true art. She wanted to get up close and study the tesserae, because from here they looked like gems—ruby and onyx and nacre. That chess set was art, too. And the bar-top.

She hadn’t expected a biker clubhouse to be beautiful.

Chase brayed loudly again, an ugly blast of noise. She’d never heard that particular laugh from him, and it was severely off-putting. The three generous pours—she’d been counting—the Horde had eagerly served him had obviously mixed with whatever was left of his airplane bender and given it new life.

At this rate, her boss was going to be blackout drunk before the night went full dark. The Horde really seemed to have a knack for getting people far drunker than they had any intention of becoming.

Then again, Chase wasn’t exactly hesitating over there. He wasn’t fighting with his better nature. She wondered if he had a better nature, or only a mask that made a fairly close impression of decency. Either way, Chase’s sense of decency was on sabbatical.

“Autumn?” Cox prodded, and she returned her attention to him.

Cox. Standing right in front of her for the first time since she’d puked on him (or at least near him), looking down at her with that perpetual scowl. No one who spent so much time looking one last irritation from bloody murder should be so good looking. The man had the healthy blond sheen of a California surfer and the personality of a Russian dissident.

A Russian dissident poet. She remembered those random streams of poetry that spilled from his mouth.

Rather than let that thought sink in and cause mischief, she pulled a much fresher memory forward: when she’d come into this room, he’d been snuggling with the pretty waitress from Marie’s, and they’d both looked very comfortable in each other’s personal space.

She hated how seeing Cox with a pretty woman on his lap had hit her like a physical blow. It had felt like jealousy, insecurity, like the night of her junior prom, when she’d returned from the bathroom and found her date—ostensibly her boyfriend—making out on the dance floor with a girl she’d thought a friend.

But she had nothing to be either jealous or insecure about where Cox was concerned.

Now he was ignoring that woman and focused on Autumn. Just walked away from one woman without a second thought, to focus on another. Maybe Cox had about as much decency in him as Chase.

Why was he talking to her, anyway? And asking her to play pool? And why was he doing it now?

Alarm bells chimed in her head. He was up to something. Maybe the whole club was up to something. That would explain why Badger and the others were not only humoring Chase’s boorishness but contributing to it.

But why? How? They’d dropped in unannounced less than half an hour ago, and come into a clubhouse full of relaxing bikers. The Horde had had no time to plan or execute some nefarious scheme to compromise Chase and/or her. Even if they’d had a secret plan ready to go should an opportunity arise, to what end? The deal was done. Chase and Autumn were here for the groundbreaking, which the club was hosting. The Night Horde would make a lot of money from this project.

They weren’t enemies anymore. They were all on the same side. Autumn could lay down her sword.

Her fingers didn’t want to unclench, everything in her screamed that she needed to remain ready for a fight, but ...

But ...

But dear god, she was tired of wearing armor every waking moment of her life.

Suddenly, Autumn’s sense of herself slipped, and she couldn’t quite remember why she was always fighting. What was it she fought for? Her condo she was hardly ever in? Her dads she saw once a week? Her best friend she only saw while they were doing something else? Her job, currently exemplified by the braying ass down the bar, getting drunk on biker booze?

With a thundering mental crash, Autumn realized she was sick of her life. Right there and then it hit her, in this room she hadn’t wanted to be in, dragged here by a boss she hadn’t wanted to travel with, now having a strained exchange with a man she didn’t want to ...

Except she kind of did.

“Autumn!” Chase shouted. His voice had grown think with drink. “Get that stick out your perky little ass and come drink with us!”

As Autumn absorbed the slap of that offense, Cox’s head swiveled in Chase’s direction, and his frown deepened to a canyon between his eyebrows.

With that, she had a new thought, and it rhymed with Duck it.

She drained her club soda and handed Cox his beer. “Yeah, I know how to play pool. Do you?”

---