Page 11 of Bristol

They like to get a little competitive when it comes to their gambling. I stay away from it for the most part, although I love it. I like to stand back and watch, it’s more entertaining that way anyway.

“Well, look who it is. If it isn’t mister save-a-hoe himself,” Reaper chuckles, standing up to hug me.

“Yeah, yeah. How was Nebraska?”

“Man, it was badass. I got to see some wildlife and tried some of those edibles that Goose has been talking about.”

I raise a brow at him.

He stands a little closer to me and lowers his voice. “Got a few brownies put back for you and some of the boys.”

I flash him a thousand-watt smile. This motherfucker here. He’s always scoring some good shit on these trips he takes. He only shares with a few of us, though. Some of the others around here are uptight about shit like that. They’d shit a gold brick if they knew that the club used to run dope through the streets of Biloxi like it was fucking candy. That was long before I ever came around. It’s only been spoken of for the last few years, but I’ve heard the rumors and the stories. The Tattered Saints were the place to get anything and everything you needed. That still stands mostly true to this day, too. If we can’t get it for you, we know someone who can. We don’t get our hands dirty anymore, though. There’s no stash to be found here, at least not like there used to be. The safe used to be filled with everything from marijuana to some new concoction some of the old timers were making. It was a lucrative business, made the club a lot of money so long as they could keep the former president out of the inventory. Hence the word preceding president being former.

“What’s the story with the girl?” Reaper asks, pointing his chin at Bristol sitting at the bar. I hadn’t noticed her there when I walked in. She’s sitting with her back to me, her long brown hair pulled back into a French braid. She’s wearing a fitted blue shirt, pair of pale blue jeans with some black combat boots. She’s talking to Joey and when she throws her head back and laughs it’s the most beautiful fucking harmony I’ve ever heard.

“Joey didn’t tell you?”

“Ahh, he said something about her being kidnapped by some fucking pussy, but that was all I got.”

“That’s about it. Mo and his boy found her and saved her. Now, we’ve got feelers out to see if he’s still in town or if he took off. Joey was supposed to send some guys to the warehouse to verify his whereabouts, but I haven’t heard anything. I can tell you, the whole club’s gonna get a shot at this asshole when we get our hands on him.”

Reaper rubs his hands together and smiles. “I can’t fucking wait.”

“I’m gonna go see what Joey’s up to over there.”

I walk up to the bar beside Bristol and she stiffens for a second before she looks over and sees me standing there.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Welcome back,” she beams.

“I had to get some rest and a shower. Can’t have you riding on the back of my bike, holding onto a dirty biker.”

My comment is met with a sinister grin and a set of eyes that make me want to bend her over this barstool and show her what that look makes me want to do to her.

“Can’t have that…” she trails off, giving me a once over. I look at the glass sitting on the table in front of her. A rocks glass that’s nearly empty. Shit. Joey’s getting her loaded. She’s probably never even drank alcohol before. Christ.

I lean back and glare at Joey. The smug look on his face tells me he’s accomplished whatever it was he was striving for. I’m just not real fucking sure what that is. I want to ask him what the fuck his problem is, but I won’t disrespect him in front of all of these people. I take a deep breath and rest my elbows back on the bar, looking at Bristol. She’s smiling, bobbing her head to the music, never having noticed that I wasn’t looking at her for those few seconds. Just fucking great.

Chapter Five

BRISTOL

Whiskey. Jim Beam, double shot, on the rocks. That’s what Joey ordered and handed to me. I’d never tasted whiskey before, so I thought, why the hell not? as I tossed back a swig. It smelled so divine and had a hearty oak flavor as it slid down my throat. Well, this is why the hell not. I’ve never been drunk before, but I’m pretty sure I’m experiencing that right now. Sebastian is standing next to me, in all his six-foot glory, looking at me with those deep green eyes. I’ve never felt this kind of desire for someone, not a real someone anyway. Only for the make-believe men in my fantasies that would make me orgasm in captivity. But I want this man.

My eyelids are heavy, trying to close as I sway to the music playing. I don’t have a very broad range of music that I’ve heard in my lifetime, at least not over the last six years. It’s been hell. I’m not even sure that all of this isn’t some dream that I’ve been sucked into after one of Patrick’s not-so-gentle beatings. If it’s a dream, though, I don’t ever want to wake up. Now that I’ve gotten a small taste of what it’s like to be free, I don’t think I could ever go back.

“You mind?” Sebastian asks, sliding my glass in front of him.

I shake my head no and he doesn’t hesitate. He shoots the rest of the amber liquid left in the glass and orders a glass of water. I glance at his side profile, watching the way his eyes dance as they watch the man behind the bar set a glass of water down in front of me. In front of me?

“Here, drink some of this.” Sebastian sticks a straw in the glass and hands it over to me. I obey his command and drink the entire glass. I didn’t know I was so thirsty. It’s so loud in here and with all these people around, it’s starting to make me a little uneasy. Trying to get out of my head, I turn to Sebastian.

“What time are we leaving?” I ask, my words slurring slightly. I try not to let the urgency of how badly I want to get out of here come out, but I don’t know if I do a good job at masking my discomfort, especially when he looks at me with concern in his eyes.

“We can leave whenever you’re ready,” he says, his green irises searching mine.

“I’m ready.”

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