Page 6 of Turmoil's Target

Damn, I needed that.

I pull out and readjust my jeans before tossing some cash on the dresser. “Thanks darlin’,” I say with a wink. “That was fun.”

She stretches languidly, a satisfied smile on her face. “Anytime, handsome. You know where to find me.”

Striding out of the brothel, I swing a leg over my bike and head back to the clubhouse, my mind clearer and body loose.

Time to get my head in the game.

This is the perfect opportunity for me to prove myself.

The clubhouse is buzzing with activity as I pull up, the party getting wilder by the moment.

Bikers come and go, revving their engines, and the smell of exhaust hangs thick in the air.

It feels more like home than any penthouse my old man’s ever bought.

I spot Danica, Raven’s little sister, standing by the bike she just bought.

She’s wrenching on something, her jean-clad ass looking damn fine in the process.

I can’t resist riling her up a bit. Hell, I haven’t gotten my fill yet today.

“Hey there, Danica,” I drawl as I swagger over, “need some help with that?”

She looks over her shoulder, her dark eyes narrowing. “If I needed your help, I would have asked you.”

I grin, waggling my eyebrows. “Are you sure about that? I’m a master with my tools.”

She rolls her eyes but her lips twitch. “You’ll never learn, will you? I’m not interested.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I retort, leaning in, “You can say no all you want, but I know you like the cat and mouse game a little too much.”

Her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink and I know I’ve hit a nerve .

She huffs and goes back to work on her bike. “Scram Turmoil, before I stick my brother-in-law on your ass.”

“I’ll go anywhere you want me to, sugar.” I wink at her before sauntering off, knowing I’ve left my mark.

As I walk away, I think about the undercover mission and the danger it entails.

It’s gonna suck being away from the club and especially from my playful banter with Danica, but I know it’s for the greater good.

I’m gonna prove myself to the Reapers Rejects and show everyone—especially my dad—that I’m made of more than just famous bloodlines.

Heading back inside, Shiver is getting wild with a couple of the clubwhores.

He’s the second oldest of the prospects, but that doesn’t stop him. He’s a damn good time.

“Oi, Turmoil!” Shiver calls out, grinning like a madman even as he’s sloppily exchanging kisses with two women. “Come and join us! The more the merrier!”

I shake my head at his offer, already sated from Cirque. “Maybe next time,” I reply, making my way toward the bar instead.

As I lean against the counter, nursing another drink, Spark walks over.

“Rough day?” He asks, clapping a hand on my shoulder. Although his gaze is calm and collected, I can detect an underlying hint of concern.

“Nah, all is good brother,” I mutter, swallowing another mouthful of whiskey.

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