Page 49 of Charger

He raises an eyebrow in question. “This is no place for you, doll.”

“I know, but I really need to speak to someone who’s supposed to be in there.” With his arms crossed, his chest puffed out, he studies me. Okay, this guy isn’t going to let me through for anything. I’ll have to resort to the oldest trick in the book.

“Hey, who’s that?” Within seconds, the bouncer looks down the hall for the imaginary person I just made up. Super corny, but it works. They really should consider a new bouncer, one that isn’t so gullible.

I make my way toward the crowd of men. They’re all shouting and watching whatever is happening at the center of the ring.

I hear “Blood” by Breaking Benjamin.

My eyes pan over to where the men are focused. I see him. Zach is in the ring, hopping back and forth, dodging his opponent’s fist like its easy.

When did he start fighting?

I slowly make my way to the ring, weaving in and out through the crowd and getting bumped on the way there. I stop when I’m as close as I can get. I take all of Zach in. Without a shirt, his tattoos are displayed perfectly on his bare, sweaty body. He still has that sexy nipple piercing. Grown, tattoos, and a hell of a lot more muscle than when he was eighteen. The intricate designs move, as if dancing with every motion he does. I lick my lips slowly, tilting my head in admiration.

His opponent spins around fast, throwing a roundhouse kick to Zach. I jump with a gasp, thinking the guy’s going to strike him, but Zach quickly dodges, then takes him down with one hard charge.

Charger.

With the quick maneuvering, Zach is now on top. He then slowly rolls his body, twisting the man’s arm before pulling it back. Agonizing screams of pain sound from his opponent and his hand quickly taps the matted floor. The referee blows into the whistle, grabbing hold of Zach’s arm and raising it as the crowd cries out in victory. A swirl of pride hits me in this moment. Seeing him like this sends something through me. I tighten my thighs, in order to draw in some type of friction. I want to relive the feeling of Zach. The feeling of his lips on my skin. Him touching me without regret. Maybe send my nails down his back, while his body is caging me in. Damn.

He removes his mouthguard, chucking it to the floor, then scans the crowd only to connect with me. When he sees me, he doesn’t look away, his face turning hard and cold.

A set of strong hands grab me from behind. They are strong, yet gentle. Spinning around, I practically face-plant with a large chest, a long necklace dangling in front. I have to look up to see that it’s the same man from the bar—the one Zach came in with when I first saw him. His shoulder-length hair lies perfectly along his collarbone, with his half pony man-bun drawing loose strands away from his face. I glance up—he’s tall with the sort of brown eyes you can get lost in because they’re so kind.

“Hey, honey, let’s get you out of here. This is no place for you.” His biker friend looks around before taking hold of my arm and leading me down the long hall I came from. I don’t get a chance to look back at Zach before I’m out the door. I do give the bouncer an apologetic look as I pass him. He smirks.

The fresh air immediately feels like a warm welcome. The muggy cigarette smell mixed with sweat and beer was making me ill.

The bartender from earlier watches me as I’m led to one of the stools. “Tequila, get her a drink, will ya?”

“Yeah, of course.” She grabs a glass. “Nice to see you made it out alive.” She smirks. “What’s your poison, love?” she asks me. I can still feel the large biker behind me.

“Um, I’ll take a cosmopolitan, please.” I should have said a beer—now I sound like a high-maintenance brat.

“Coming right up.” She turns, grabbing the bottle before pouring each liquid into the glass. “Told you not to go down there. Those men are not exactly gentlemen and I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them tried something with you.” She places the drink on the square napkin in front of me. “I’m Tequila by the way, and this giant of a man is Tank.”

He leans in next to me, with an elbow on the bar countertop, and winks. “Nice to meet ya, sweetheart.”

“I’m Jules. Nice to meet you both. I didn’t know Zach was a fighter.” They scrunch their eyebrows together. Shit. “I mean, Charger.”

“Where the fuck is she!?” Zach stalks through the back door, grey sweats, no shirt. Dear God. I get up from the bar stool, standing toe-to-toe with him. “You don’t ever, and I mean ever, come to the pit alone. Do you understand?” Tank is ready to jump in, and I prepare to argue when an older woman comes over and places a calming hand on Zach’s shoulder.

“What in the world? The whole state of Ohio will hear you if you keep up that shouting.” The woman looks at me. “And who might this be?”

“I’m Jules.” I smile shyly, awkwardly. Zach’s chest looks much bigger when he’s angry. She darts between Zach and me. Then she smiles a huge smile.

“I’m Maggie. I’m Chain’s Ol’ Lady.” I don’t have to ask her what that means. I already know. Having been with Venom, I’ve learned some of the biker lingo. Though, his club was not as kind. When Maggie gives me a hug, it’s not something I expected. She smells of older perfume, like citrus and lilies. It’s comforting. Her short brown pixie haircut matches her sweet face. “Charger, can you not yell at this poor girl. You’re frightening her.”

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have been there.”

She doesn’t know me, but Zach could never scare me. He has never scared me. There’s never been a man I’ve felt safer with. He takes a deep breath in and then out before he steps away, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, his bicep flexing.

“Are you two friends?” Maggie asks. We both look at the ground.

“Something like that.” I didn’t mean for it to sound so bitter.

“Well, any friend of Charger’s is a friend of ours. You’re welcome here anytime.”

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