Page 6 of Zen's Crash

I chuckle. “It’s not like you’re the Ghost Rider or anything.”

He gives me a blank look.

“He’s a comic book character,” I explain.

He shakes his head and mutters under his breath, “Kids these days.”

“Go home, Grandpa,” I say with a grin.

“Hey, none of that grandpa shit, I can still keep up with you lot. Just ask my Mattie.”

“If I had a pretty little wife like Mattie waiting for me at home, I sure as fuck wouldn’t be hanging around the bar talking to the likes of me. Go on, get out of here and rock Mattie’s world. You both deserve some one-on-one time together.”

Rigs is up and out the door so fast I’d have missed him if I blinked. That made me smile. There isn’t anything better in the whole world for me than seeing one of my club brothers happy. Yeah, maybe that means I have a shallow life, but it doesn’t matter. I’m happy with it.

After a couple of minutes, I decide to say hi to Evan and introduce myself to the Dark Maven. She’s currently sitting at their table, looking around the room uncomfortably. It’s painful to watch.

Chapter 3

Lexi

This was a really bad idea. I agreed to be Kayla’s emotional support animal for the night. She’s my best friend’s younger sister and normally all kinds of socially awkward. Tonight, with her biker wannabe at her side, she’s like a beautiful swan who totally has her act together. She’s dressed in black leather pants with a biker t-shirt and black boots. She totally looks more like the wives than the club girls, which can only work to her advantage. She’s all snuggled up under Evan’s arm and the conversation is flowing really well for them.

Everything in her world is aces tonight, and somehow, I’m the obvious third wheel. Evan has already explained all about how most of the brothers are war heroes, and their club doesn’t do illegal stuff, but I don’t know if his information is all that reliable.

The one thing I do know is that all the bikers in this clubhouse are drop-dead gorgeous, down to the last man. They seem protective of the women they’re with and vice versa.

I see a shadow out of the corner of my eye. It’s the handsome one moving across the room to put money in the jukebox. I like the way he’s built. He clearly works out. I can tell by the way he moves that he’s totally ripped under his black t-shirt and leather cut. His biceps are bulging out the sleeves of his t-shirt, and he has wicked tatts crawling down his arms. Hisshoulder-length dark brown hair is messy but clean. He has green eyes and a neatly trimmed beard. When he glances over his shoulder, I realize I’m staring and lower my eyes.

He picks a slow song, which doesn’t seem to fit with the boisterous mood I see in the brothers around the room. No one complains, though.

I glance his way again and realize he’s headed straight for our table. I assume he’s coming to talk to Evan. But if that’s the case, why is he looking at me so intently? I quickly look away again because I’m definitely not trying to hook up with any of the brothers tonight, or any night. Bikers aren’t my type for a variety of reasons.

He stops at our table and Evan welcomes him warmly. “Long time, no see, Zen.”

The hot biker just chuckles. “Yeah, it’s been what, an hour and a half since you were in my office.”

Kayla looks up and asks, “Is that kind of like being sent to the principal’s office?”

The smile falls right off the dude’s face and Evan is just staring at her with his mouth hanging open.

I jump in and save her, “No. Bikers are kind of like pirates, in that everyone is supposed to be equal. That’s why when they have their little meetings, every brother gets an equal vote.”

The man Evan referred to as Zen tells me, “Bikers are nothing like pirates. We don’t steal, rape, and kill.”

“Well, I never said you were like pirates in every way, just in regard to everyone getting an equal vote. That part is true, right?”

He nods, looking annoyed with me for being right. “Yeah, we all get an equal vote, but we don’t do illegal shit.”

I don’t know why he’s being so bristly, but I add. “You don’t wear eye patches, have peg legs, or call everyone ‘mate’ either.”

“Says the cosplayer,” he mutters under his breath.

Before I have a chance to respond, he stretches his neck and asks Evan, “I was wondering if you wanted to shoot a game of pool with me? We can play couples or men against women. What do you say?”

Of course, Kayla lights up like a Christmas tree with excitement, so Evan agrees. “Yeah, that would be great. Thanks for including us.”

“It’s my pleasure,” the man responds. His name is Zen—I need to remember to use it. We follow him back to an empty pool table and I realize almost immediately that although I’m totally out of my element in a biker bar, being in the small alcove is much less stressful than being out in the open where people can stare at me. I glance over at Zen, wondering if he did that intentionally. The slight smile on his face tells me that maybe he did notice my anxiety and did something to remedy it.

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