Page 4 of Biker Bride (Hell on Heelz MC)

“Definitely in the mob.”

“If he’s in the mafia, why did I lose the bet to Pix? I lost my Tail Gunner position.”

She let out a low whistle. “Damn, Psycho. Sounds like you’ve got yourself a real situation there.”

“No shit,” I muttered, digging in her popcorn for a caramel. “I have no idea what he wants, but he’s got my attention.”

Raven took a sip of her beer. “I meant losing your position.”

I waved off her worry. “Oh, that. Whatever this Vince is offering, I’ll add a bit to his donation and say I really won. Get the job back. Easy. You think Pix can do the job?”

“You gonna go through with it?”

Knotting my fingers, I shrugged. “Hell, if I know. But I’m curious. And you know how I get when I’m curious.”

Raven blew air. “Yeah, like a cat in heat on a hot tin roof with nine lives. Just don’t let this one be your last.”

My eyes shot to the ceiling. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

The day after our charity run was my day off, so I spent most of it lounging around the cabin, trying to make sense of the other night. With Raven at her nine to five, I was all alone. My mind kept drifting back to Vince and his cryptic words. What could he possibly need a fake wife for? And why the hell me?

Fuck, I had to do something, so I grabbed a wrench and went to tinker with my bike. After thoroughly covering myself in grime, I decided it was time to get ready for my date. Raven checked in at the clubhouse after work while I was in the shower. Then she was off running errands when I got out, so I rummaged through her closet, looking for something suitable to wear.

I’d burned most of my old clothes in a fit of rashness a while back, leaving me with little more than my biker gear and trashy digs. From a corporate world in a past life, Raven had a better sense of style and a fancy wardrobe to match.

I ended up with a hot black dress that highlighted all the right spots. It goes without saying, it was way classier than my usual outfit. I matched it with some killer five-inch heels and let my hair hang loose in waves around my shoulders. The look wascompleted with just a touch of makeup. I didn’t think high end broads wore much. But I wasn’t truly dressed until I coated on my favorite shade, painting my lips red. Looking in my cracked mirror, I had to admit, I cleaned up pretty damn well.

Just as I was finishing up, Raven walked in, carrying a bag of groceries. She took one look at me and let out a low whistle. “Damn, Psycho. You look like a Real Housewife or a Stepford wife, take your pick.”

Twirling, I snickered, “Thanks. Borrowed your dress. Hope you don’t mind.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “No worries. Just don’t ruin it. Again.”

“No promises.”

Chapter 4

At exactly 8 PM, a shiny black car pulled up outside the Roost. Vince got out of a Bentley Continental GT, looking as sharp as ever in a tailored navy suit. He complimented me with a look of pure satisfaction. Without a word, he opened the passenger door for me, and I slid in like it was nothing. The car was sleek, luxurious, the plush red leather seats a far cry from my dirt covered Harley and probably worth thirty of what my used motorcycle cost.

The drive to the restaurant was so filled with tension you could cut it with a knife. I felt the blade strapped to my thigh, breathing easier once my fingers ran over the sharp metal. Vince didn’t say much, his eyes focused on the road. I continuously stole glances at him, trying to figure out what his game was.

We arrived at an upscale restaurant I’d heard of before. The kind of place with white tablecloths and waiters in tuxedos. Vince led me in, his hand lightly touching my back.

The host brightened seeing Vince, like they were old friends. He led us to a table right in the middle. The ambiance was sophisticated with soft, intimate lighting. The perfect place for a first date. Vince pulled out my chair, something that felt odd nowadays, especially for me.

As he took his seat, I couldn't help but be fascinated by the man in front of me. His dark hair was slicked back, not astrand out of place, yet his sharp jawline and the stubble that framed his sexy lips gave him an edge. His eyes were deep set and a piercing blue. When they met mine, it felt like the man was running his hand up my skirt and taking a peek. He wore his power suit well, the dark fabric clinging to his broad shoulders and chest, hinting at a power body underneath.

He ordered a scotch, and I asked for a beer. There was no need to pretend I liked anything else. I hadn’t agreed to anything but this date. The drinks came almost instantly, and they poured my beer into a fancy glass.

As Vince reached for his glass, I noticed his masculine hands were as beautiful as they were strong. And on his wrist, the gold band reflected the lighting of the restaurant. His watch was as sleek and expensive-looking as him. It looked like a classic, but I couldn’t place the brand. Too rich for my blood. Everything about him screamed wealth, control and precision, from the way he held himself to the way he casually sipped his scotch.

“Tell me about your day,” he said, his voice so smooth it could have been in my head. It wasn’t a question, but a command.

Taking a gulp of my beer, I aimed to break out of his spell. Sitting up straight, I shook my head slightly, feeling my hair brush my bare shoulders. “You really want to know? It’s not exactly glamorous. Spent most of it on my hands and knees in the dirt.”

“You paint an alluring picture.” He smirked, his eyes sparkling. “What were you doing on your hands and knees in the dirt?”

“Working on my Harley, getting it ready for the next run. That’s the life of a biker, you know.”

---