Page 9 of Queen of Blades

Well, that was interesting. The perks of living in such a small town was that everyone seemed to be tied to everyone else.

He shifted in his seat, bracing himself for some bullshit.

“Honestly, I’ve dated a shit ton of strippers,” Remi admitted.

“My sister has a type.” Harper sighed, falling back into the booth and taking another gulp of her drink.

Remi lifted her shoulder in a half shrug. “I like my women sexy and outgoing. Sue me.”

Paul couldn’t argue with that logic. He liked his the same way, and Harper fit that bill to a T.

When Harper’s sister didn’t say any more, just lifted her beer for a hearty swig, Paul picked up on the message. Remi knew of his family. It wasn’t a secret.

“You two stop it,” Harper demanded. “The staring contest is completely unnecessary.”

Paul sat back and grinned.

Remi’s expression was completely unreadable.

“What are you drinking, Paul?” Harper stroked his arm, drawing his focus. “Let me get it for you.”

“Cutty and water,” he said.

“So gangster,” Remi muttered.

5

Harper

Threehoneybeeslater,Remifinally left. Not that Harper hadn’t enjoyed her time with her sister, but ever since Paul arrived, Remi’s mood shifted. It went from fun to icy. That wasn’t the vibe she wanted for her last night in Oklahoma. She’d make it up to her sister another time. Maybe she could fly her out to North Carolina and show her how the other half lived.

It wasn’t personal. Remi despised anyone who wasn’t allied with their father’s club. She was loyal like that. Harper had walked away. Bikers weren’t her cup of tea. She was the straight and narrow—legit. Mostly, she wanted nothing to do with the criminal element. Remi did.

As a daughter and not a son, Remi couldn’t actually join the club. Being a lesbian meant she couldn’t even sleep her way into the club hierarchy. The best she could do was be an associate, run the autobody shop where they laundered money, and work for them. It suited Remi just fine. Her connection to the club was on her terms and seemed to be quite lucrative for her. Dangerous but profitable.

Harper probably should’ve asked Paul to leave instead of inviting him to their table. She’d just been so surprised to see him, it came out before she could think about it. Besides, Remi had said she only had an hour anyway. She’d stayed far longer than she’d expected and had work in the morning. Perhaps letting Paul stick around was actually a favor for Harper’s sister.

Now, alone with him, with quite the buzz going, Harper could focus on him. Idly, she fiddled with the toggle on her necklace. “How have you been?”

Sure, they’d covered that, but he’d given such a polite surface answer. She wanted something more from him.

Smirking, he twisted his glass. “Well.”

The years had been kind to him. Paul was just as dark and delicious as he had been in the laundromat. His specialty was his icy stare, so cold it could freeze molten lava, but when he turned those Nordic irises onto her, her temperature rose ten degrees.

“No, I mean for real.” Harper adjusted in the booth so she faced him fully. “What’s been going on?”

He canted his head and gave her a look that suggested he would not answer that. She knew why.

Though, to hammer it home, he said, “Counselor?”

He was just as much of a criminal as her father. He just did it with more style and finesse. The Roughneck Riders were crass, quick-tempered, and volatile. Paul’s crew, from what Harper knew of them—which admittedly was quite little—were far more organized and respected.

She may have been gone for over a decade, but by the quality of his attire, she could tell they were succeeding. The bikers, on the other hand, were in yet another turf war. Messy and bloody. Something she couldn’t wait to escape.

“Why don’t you tell me aboutyou.” He playfully booped her nose.

Snickering, she shoved at his chest gently. It was hard—solid. A shirtless vision of him flashed through her mind. Her core boiled from the memory, and she squeezed her thighs, recalling his talents.

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