Page 2 of Trident: Mayhem Makers

“Fuck my life,” I muttered under my breath. It’s not like an Old Fashioned was a fancy bloody cocktail or something. He didn’t even need to use a damn shaker to make it.

“Move to the side and I’ll show you.”

He bolted out from behind the bar so fast, if I’d blinked at the wrong time, I wouldn’t have seen him move.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll learn some other time. I, uh, need a bathroom break anyhow. You just do your thing, and I’ll come back after you’re done.”

Shaking my head at the fleeing coward, I moved behind the bar and started to grab what I needed. Luckily, I’d suspected this was how my night would go and had brought in some of my special simple syrup earlier for just this purpose. It wasn’t the first time I’d added to the clubhouse’s bar. Within weeks of moving to Bridgewater, I’d added a bottle of Bitters because I loved a goodLemon, Lime Bitters, but it seemed like Americans hadn’t discovered that one yet.

Scanning the bottles, I chuckled and reached for theStill Austinbottle of Straight Rye Whiskey. The label had a long-eared rabbit on it, and it also had a silver sticker claiming it had won some award, so it should work just fine for my drink. I was just placing the bottle down when a deep, gravelly voice had me pausing.

“Whatcha making, girlie?”

With a frown, I glared toward the voice and lost my breath for a few seconds. Holy smokes. An older man, maybe in his mid-forties sat at a stool and was leaning against the other side of the bar. His steel-gray hair was buzz cut on the sides and the top was in neat cornrows. I had no idea how long it would be down but was, for some strange reason, damn curious to find out.

Like a lot of the guys, he wore his leather cut with no shirt underneath and damn, the man took care of himself. Old-school black inkwork covered muscular biceps that twitched under my gaze. His pecs were solid pads of muscle, which were also covered in tattoos and although the bar hid his abs, I bet they were as defined as the rest of his torso. My gaze caught on the chunky chains around his neck, trying to read what was written below a skull on a large pendant that hung from one of them.

His low chuckle had my cheeks heating, as my gaze jumped up to his face to see one eyebrow raised, laughter in his dark irises and a sexy smirk on his lips. He lifted a palm to stroke his beard as he spoke.

“See something you like, girlie?”

Oh, yeah, that’s right. I was gonna yell at him for calling me a girl. Whoever the hell he was.

I pointed a finger at his chest. “I am not a child.”

His dark gaze lowered, and instinctively I put my shoulders back and stood taller as he took his turn to take in his fill of me. Flames curled deep within me as his eyes paused on my breasts on his trip back up my body. They were small, only a B cup, but they were perky and the pushup bra I currently wore had them looking more like DDs.I hoped.It was what the tag on it had claimed it would do, anyhow.

“You are most certainly all woman, Jacie Lewis.”

That had me frowning again. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met. How the bloody hell do you know who I am?”

Standing, he half turned to flash the back of his cut to reveal the head of a grinning red devil wearing a cowboy hat along with the words “Satan’s Cowboys MC” and “Cutler”.

“I ain’t a Charon, baby. That’s why we’ve not met. Name’s Trident. I’m an enforcer for the Satan’s Cowboys MC. And I know who you are, ‘cause we all do. Taz’s long lost baby sis, thought dead, come back to life. Gossip spreads real fast in MCs, especially shit like that.”

My face heated again. Dammit. I didn’t want to be infamous for something that wasn’t even my doing. It wasn’t like the authorities had given me a say in what they did when I’d been a kid.

“Well, while I might be a lot younger than my brother, I am not a child. Haven’t been for a damn long time. So don’t call me girlie.”

He raised that brow at me again, which he needed to stop doing. When he did, his eyes glinted in this way that had me squeezing my thighs together.

“How old are you exactly? Should you even be behind that bar? We get raided by the cops, Scout gonna be in trouble for underage drinking?”

His voice was laced with humor, but it still pissed me off. I grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and slammed it down on the bar in front of him. Hopefully, when he opened it, it’d spray all over him.

“Take your drink and fuck off. There’s more outside if you want a refill. I do not need your shit tonight.”

He chuckled, the sound deep with a little gravel to it, like his voice. Damn. Why did he have to be an asshole? Because between that voice and all his inked-up muscles, I wouldn’t have minded taking him for a ride to celebrate my birthday. But not with that attitude of his. Nope. My next man was gonna be a nice guy.

I ignored my inner voice laughing at me. Just because I’d never dated a nice guy in my life, or even been remotely attracted to one, didn’t mean I couldn’t change. Right?

“You got gumption. Like that. Not too many men who’d do what you’ve done, let alone a woman. Especially here, with how the Charons fall under SCMC rule. Most folks in this place would trip over themselves to keep any of us happy, but not you. Interesting. Dangerous, but interesting. And I don’t want a beer. As you pointed out, I could have gotten one outside.”

I rolled my eyes and got back to mixing my drink. If he wasn’t going to go the hell away, I’d just ignore him. Well, try to. Damn man took up a whole lot of space despite the fact he wasn’t overly tall. He was probably the same height as Taz, around six-two, but he had this presence about him. One that demanded people take him seriously. Stupid MCs and all their rules. But I hadn’t been raised to be a wallflower. If someone pissed me off, they were gonna know about it. I didn’t care who they were, or where they were from.

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Trident

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