Page 37 of Lucky's Trouble

I prepare myself for fireworks. “This is where you’ll be staying.”

“Uh, no. I don’t think so. You can just drop me off at the Honey Pot. I’ll hide out there for a few days.” She moves to put the helmet back on, but I stop her.

“Sorry, Hellcat. That’s not an option. We have good security there, but they don’t need someone else to watch over.”

“Then a motel. Maybe one in Carson City, or Sparks, even. It’ll take Neal a while to get feelers out for me, and I’ll be gone by then.”

“Let’s talk inside,” I hedge, noticing the prying eyes already. Groups of bikers, hang-arounds, and club sluts congregate outside to smoke and talk without the loud music blaring inside.

“I want to talk right here.” Her hands move to her hips, drawing my attention there. She has on a similar fit as yesterday, a cropped band tee and holey jeans that hug her hips and thighs and then go straight, hanging loose around her calves. The outfit is nothing special, but she makes it look like the single most sexy thing a woman can wear.

“Don’t be stubborn about this. I don’t want all these people hearing your business.”

She glances over my shoulder at the entrance to the clubhouse, noticing the throngs of people. “Fine.”

“Let me give you a quick tour, then we can go somewhere private.” I take her hand, not wanting anyone to think she’s fair game. Thankfully, she allows it.

The clubhouse is a renovated warehouse that used to be two stories; the bottom level held back stock of whatever the hell the owners sold, and the upper level housed the office space. We tore out the second level but left the exposed beams and piping. And since it’s basically our home, we balanced the industrial aspect with brown and gold polished cement floors.

“This is where we hang out, hold our meetings, and party.” I motion to the open space that’s hard to see with the amount of people here.

“Is it always this busy?” she asks.

“Not always.”

As we weave through the crowd, I don’t bother pointing out the obvious. There’s a section with tables and chairs, a long central bar, a couple pool tables, and an area reserved for dancing, including a stripper pole on a small stage. Tinleigh takes it all in like it’s business as usual. I guess the place is similar to a strip club tonight, so it’s nothing she hasn’t seen.

Seeing Cy sitting at the bar with his woman, Char, we make a pit stop. It took some convincing for Prez to allow tonight’s mission. He doesn’t like the idea of pissing Neal off, not even for one of our own since the girls who work at the Honey Pot are part of our family. Fortunately, I’ve been with this club since I was eighteen and have done everything that’s ever been asked of me without demanding a thing in return, he gave me this.

“Cy,” I say, gaining his attention. He spins on his stool, and Char follows suit.

“Everything go okay?” He appraises me before turning his attention to Tinleigh. “This her?”

“Went as planned. No one saw nothing unless someone at that shitty diner spills. And yeah, this is Tinleigh. Tinleigh, this is our Prez, Cy, and his ol’ lady, Char.”

I wouldn’t dare say it out loud, but Char is a smoke show. She’s all long legs and big tits wrapped in flawless dark brown skin. No idea how an old, fat, hairy, pasty bastard like Cy landed her, but he’s a lucky man—not only because of her looks, but she fits in perfectly around here. She and a few of the other members’ wives plan charity runs and family-oriented events that help offset whatever bad press gets printed about us.

“Good to meet ya.” Cy gives Tinleigh a chin lift.

Char stands, towering over Tinleigh, who takes a step back. Then Char’s arms open wide, and she leans in for a hug that Tinleigh awkwardly accepts. Char whispers something in her ear that has Tinleigh nodding and relaxing into her hold.

When Char pulls away, she hands Tinleigh her phone before pointing a finger at her. “I mean it. Anytime, day or night.”

“Do you know the number on the phone you gave me?” Tinleigh asks me.

I rattle it off, thankful Char pulled out the welcome wagon. Tinleigh hands back the phone after programming her number in, and I make a mental note to pick her up a better cell. She doesn’t need to be carrying around a burner like we do.

“Thank you.” Tinleigh smiles, but the movement cracks her split lip open and bright red blood drips from the wound.

“Get her in to see Bones, yeah?” Cy directs.

“I will. Not tonight, but I’ll have him come by tomorrow.”

“Good. Now, I’ll bet this one could use some peace and quiet. Looks like she’s had too much action lately.”

“We’re headed back to my place right now.”

“We’ll talk soon, Tinleigh. It was nice to meet you,” Char says with a wave.

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