Page 15 of Jacob

His sponsor laughed. “Yeah, maybe.”

“So, what do I do?” If there was anyone he could ask what to do, it was Dash. The guy wasn’t just his patched brother. They’d known each other since the day Dash put on the prospect vest. Jacob practically grew up under the guy’s wing. He trusted any advice he gave.

Especially, considering his father was too busy with club shit to ever really be around. Hell, the only way to spend time with him was to patch in.

The older biker lifted his brows in surprise. “You’re asking me?” He let out a huge belly laugh. “Did I miss the part where I’m in, or have ever been in, a stable relationship? Fuck if I know.”

Jacob ran his hand back and forth through his hair. He’d relied on Dash to teach him how to be cool forever. His sponsor had taught him how to smoke, snuck him his first sips of booze, and even introduced him to his first club slut—before Jacob prospected. Ifhedidn’t know what Jacob should do, he was fucked.

Interlacing his fingers behind his head, he took a few steps away from the bikes. “Shit,” he hissed. “I can’t just buy her flowers and candy or some shit. That’s lame.”

“I don’t know, get her that fruit thing. We got one for my grandma once. You know where they cut them into flower shapes and make it like a bouquet.”

Jacob regarded his club brother with an arched brow at the word ‘bouquet.’ It sounded absurd coming from the bald leather-clad man’s mouth. The army veteran biker who he’d seen kill more than one person and dispose of a body or two talking about bouquets of fruit just did not fit.

“Fuck you.” Dash shoved at his shoulder. “Last time I try to help you out with your Lollipop problems.” Shaking his head, Dash pushed past him.

Stuffing his hands in his front pockets, Jacob didn’t have a comeback. Dash had a point. The two of them were way out of their depth when it came to romance. How the fuck was he supposed to figure this shit out?

At the door, Dash crossed his arms and smirked at the prospect. Odin’s Fury wasn’t from around there. Obviously, their bottom rockers read Montana, though their club had been coming to this territory for years and to this compound, so the colors should be familiar to the prospect as friendly.How would he play it? Hell, how had he been instructed to play it?

The young prospect’s gaze swept over them. Thick neck, bulky build, and a short haircut. It reminded Jacob of the style he’d seen in the movieJarhead. A lot of bikers were veterans, so it made sense. As the prospect’s gaze hit him, Jacob jutted his chin upward, grinned, and winked.

Without so much as a word, or a pat-down, the prospect nodded. He opened the door and gestured for them to enter.

Respect. They were known allies and thus weren’t seen as a threat. They were carrying what any biker worth his salt carried. However, they didn’t present as a threat because the alliance was known, even to the prospect.

Either that, or he was dumb as fuck and didn’t know how dangerous Odin’s Fury could be. Jacob decided, for the sake of the potential club merger—and trying to be optimistic—he’d believe the former.

Dash patted the man on the shoulder as the two entered the Roughneck Riders’ clubhouse.

As expected, the pungent odor of punky weed, stale cigarettes, and spilled alcohol carried on the thin haze. Dim lighting, high top tables, a bar, dart boards, and pool tables. Harley Davidson neon lights, beer signs, and old street signs adorned the walls.

It wasn’t quite wall to wall people grinding to EvanescenceBring Me to Life, but it was damn near close. Making their way through the crowd to the bar would take some doing. As Jacob scanned the mass of people, following Dash, he spotted the prospect from earlier—the guy with Sparrow. A topless blonde was in his lap, arching backward while he licked up her belly between her tits. The surrounding men hooted. Body shots, most likely.

Setting his jaw, Jacob focused on the bar and the woman behind it mixing drinks. Skinny woman, bountiful breasts, and bleached hair. She had a wide friendly grin and a lot of hustle as she bounced back and forth slinging drinks. “Jameson.” He barked his order when she met his eye before Dash could order him some sissy-foo-foo beer.

As he put his back to the bar, resting his elbows on it, his gaze found the show of the evening. No. It wasn’t a live band, like at Odin’s Fury. It wasn’t even some strippers from the club they owned entertaining the guys. Nope.

Someone had pushed two high top tables together. Two women, hopefully in their twenties, were naked on all fours snorting lines of who knows what, while someone lined up a double-ended dildo between them. Rolling his eyes, Jacob turned back to the bar for his drink. Some things were just too much.

Getting women coked out of their minds to indulge in some weird kinky porno fantasy was too far for him. Odin’s Fury didn’t allow anything stronger than weed in their clubhouse. It had the potential to bring too much heat on the club. There was too much temptation to sample the product. Monty was strict about that shit, he didn’t want anything to do with drugs. He didn’t care about the earning potential. He saw too much in the way of volatility.

Looking around the Roughneck Riders, Jacob could see why. Half the patches looked whacked out of their gourd—sweaty, scratching, and paranoid as hell. “This place is a fucking mess,” the younger biker commented under his breath as he brought the Irish whiskey to his lips, enjoying the nutty vanilla combination.

“And just think,” Dash said, lifting his beer to his lips as he took a sip. “This is an improvement.”

“How are they not all dead?”

“One of the many mysteries of life.” His sponsor shrugged. “Kind of like women and what you’re going to do about Lollipop Girl.”

Jacob glared at him.

Dash smirked around his beer.

There were very few good women in Jacob’s life. The majority of them were already taken and for a long time. He’d never seen how they got that way. He never saw the gestures or the moments when the men who had them won their hearts. They just had them. Even when the guy was a total fucking shit and didn’t deserve it.

He scrubbed his hand over his mouth and down his beard.Jesus fuck. How the hell was he supposed to show a good woman that he knew she was a good woman?

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