Page 2 of Rage's Heart

Reign whistled lewdly at the pretty little brunette wearing tight jeans and a low-cut top that showed off her best assets. She reminded me of one of those bitches in the shampoo commercials when she flipped her shiny hair over one shoulder and sauntered toward us with her eyes locked on me.

My lips twitched.

It wasn’t anything new for chicks to throw themselves at bikers. Some wanted a walk on the wild side, some had daddy issues, and other’s wanted a hard fuck they couldn’t get a home.

“Damn,” Killer murmured.

“Hey, Rage,” she purred, shifting her weight, making sure I noticed the curve of her ass.

“How ya’ doin’, darlin’?” I scraped my teeth across my bottom lip, not even trying to hide that I was checking out her tits. She and I both knew what she was really there for.

Reign smirked, already backing up toward his bike. Killer did the same, exchanging a knowing look with him before they bumped fists.

“We’ll catch you at the clubhouse,” Killer said, amusement lacing his voice.

“Have fun, mate,” Reign added with a wink before they both mounted their bikes and rode off.

Whatever.

I turned my attention back to the pretty little thing staring up at me with hearts in her eyes. “Becky was it?” I asked, draping my arm over her shoulders.

“Brittany,” she corrected.

Yeah, whatever. It didn’t really matter.

Ushering her inside, I kicked the door shut behind us, twisted the lock with a satisfying click, and flipped the sign to ’Closed’.

When she looked up at me again, her eyes hooded.

Yeah.

She knew exactly what was about to happen.

The Jacksonville Saints clubhouse was rockin’ by the time I rolled in that evening. Friday nights brought out patch members, prospects, and hang-arounds. Judging by the packed parking lot, tonight was no exception.

Our clubhouse was the crown jewel of Saints territory. The two-story saloon sat on prime beachfront property at Jacksonville’s edge. Chief’s old man had snatched it up during the city’s expansion boom back in the 70s, before waterfront real estate prices went insane.

As I stepped inside, I cast a quick glance toward the bar. Cueball caught my eyes and lifted his chin. The prospect didn’t have to be prompted. He reached into the well behind the bar, pulled out a bottle of Bud, popped the cap off, and set it on the bar for me.

Good fucking man.

The crowd parted as my way through towards the bar. In one long pull, I drained the beer he’d sat out for me.

“Want another?” He chuckled.

“Fuck yes.”

Shaking his head, he dug into the well and sat another on the bar in front of me.

“Thanks.”

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Reign boomed from across the room.

I turned just as he threw a dart, sinking it dead center on the board.

Killer threw his arms up in the air. “You’re killin’ me smalls!”

Reign smirked before his eyes came back to me. “Your client give you a five-star review?”

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