Page 113 of Making Choices

“Crazy bitches.”

“Rather be a bitch than a biker,” Nadia retorts. “Least we can think for ourselves.”

“Oooo,” I proclaim. “Burn.”

Slash grabs the travel-sized hand sanitiser from the console and tosses it in Nadia’s direction. When he reaches over to tickle me, I capture his wrist to stop him. He lets me win, instead turning his palm toward the roof and linking his fingers through mine.

We’ve held hands like this hundreds of times.

However, this is the first time I’ve ever thought about his inches whilst doing so.

As he drives us out of the parking garage and back to his house to get ready for our night out, I do my best to push away all thoughts of Slash naked. Instead, I choose to think about my inevitable run in with Zeke.

I haven’t seen him for almost a month and a half.

It’s the longest time we’ve ever been apart.

Maybe that’s why I’m thinking about his best friend’s dick?

Pent up sexual energy and all that...

* * *

I tug on the hem of my skirt as we’re ushered past the line up at the door to the nightclub. With Slash and Sander at my back, Isaiah leading the way, and Nadia’s tight grip on my hand, part of me feels like this is a military mission more than a relaxing night out. A hand slips across my stomach from behind, and I’m pulled into a solid chest. Slash’s cologne—amber and labdanum—invades my senses.

“It’ll be better once we’re inside. Got a VIP section roped off for you.”

Once more, he’s understood my unease and enacted a plan to alleviate it without me needing to spell it out to him. Before I can reply, a tall woman wearing a sequinned dress and a pair of stilettos steps out of the line. Isaiah tries to push her out of the way, but she’s relentless.

With malice in her voice and hatred on her face, she hisses, “Murdering whore.”

My step falters. Between Nadia’s determined hold on my hand and Slash’s steady presence at my back, I’m propelled into the club. Like a well-trained unit, no one stops moving until we’re safely ensconced in the roped area Slash organised. I’m shuffled into a soft chair. Nadia perches on the arm next to me.

“Stay here with them,” Slash orders Sander. “Me and Isaiah’ll make sure that bitch can’t get inside.”

“Maybe I should go—” My suggestion dies when the four of them glare at me. I shrug. “Okay. Okay. It was just an idea.”

“This is Shamrocks turf. Anyone attached to the Maddison Clan or the fuckin’ Kingsley family ain’t welcome here. And that message is about to be driven home, loud and clear.”

“You can’t go around threatening everyone who calls me names,” I tell him. “Especially when she’s right... I mean, I did murder him.”

My brother looks like he’s about to throw up in the face of my frank assessment of the situation. Isaiah groans. Of course, Nadia thinks my candour is hilarious. She holds a hand up for a high five, which I obligingly give her, then she crows, “Ah, yeah, you did. And that motherfucker deserved every bullet you pumped into him.”

“As much as I agree,” Slash interjects. “It’d be nice if you girls could be a little more discreet. We might own this club, doesn’t mean shit can’t be overheard by the wrong people.”

Nadia makes a face at him.

I nod.

Satisfied that we’re going to listen, he jerks his chin at Isaiah and the two men stride out of the VIP section. Sander starts pacing from one side to the other, and Nadia and I watch him. When he makes his third pass, I reach out and tug on his shirt to stop him.

“What’s wrong with you?” The fear in his eyes scares the crap out of me. I’m on my feet, standing in front of my twin within a second. “What is it?”

He shakes his head.

“Sander. Tell me.”

Our discussion comes to a premature end when a figure I know well enters the roped off area. Wide shoulders, bronze-brown hair, eyes that I thought I’d spend the rest of my life peering into. Tattooed arms folded over his chest, Zeke looks me up and down, his multi-coloured gaze with the ring of blue circling his irises assesses my outfit. After taking his fill, he blatantly dismisses me an instant later. My temper flares, and I make a move toward him. Whether to hit him or yell at him, I’ll never know because my brother pushes in between us.

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