Page 8 of Outlaws' Dirty Secret

This is stupid. What was I thinking?

But Skyhigh’s smug grin flashes through my mind. They’re in there somewhere, him, Dragon and Blackout, probably drinking and partying with half dressed women without a care in the world.

I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead as I pass by a guy who has a woman in a miniskirt pinned up against the wall surrounding their property. Based on his grunts and her encouraging noises, I have one guess what they are doing. Right out in the open? Really? These people seriously live in their own crazy world. A few people give me looks, but nobody says anything or tries to stop me. I almost wish they would.

No.

If this was one of my books, I would have the heroine march right in and give them a piece of her mind. There’s only oneproblem. As much as I love writing about women who kick ass, I haven’t done much of it myself.

At the gate two big bikers lean against the wall, talking. The way their sharp eyes scan the night makes it clear they’re standing guard. One of them, a tall man with long dark hair and a thick black beard steps forward as I approach.

“Hey, pretty lady. Haven’t seen you around. Where you headed?” His tone is relaxed, even a little friendly, but I don’t think for a moment that he’ll let me pass without answering.

In a sparkly black cocktail dress from dinner and white sneakers because they were the first pair of shoes I found at the door, I definitely looked dressed for something and it’s not this. “I’m… uh… here for the party?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You askin’ or tellin’?”

“Let her in, Riot. Unless you think she’s trouble,” the other asks with a snorted laugh. His head is shaved, and he’s just as big as his friend if not bigger.

“Shut it, Crank. Trouble comes in a lot of different packages. You fucking know that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Crank waves the comment aside. “What’s the deal, honey? You got a man in here?”

“N—not exactly, but are Skyhigh, Dragon and Blackout around? I?—”

Riot snaps his fingers and points at me. “That’s why you look familiar. You’re the chick in the corner house.” He looks me up and down. “Nice dress, but you sure you want to party with us? I don’t think it’s going to be the kind of cocktail hour you’re used to.”

The church doors swing open and a woman staggers out. Her brown hair is teased up into an impressive mane, and her tight shirt is half off. A biker is right on her heels. She laughs and makes a run for it in high heels onto the grass nearby. He catches up quickly and throws her over his shoulder, slipping a hand up her short skirt.

“It’s, uh… it’s okay,” I stammer. “I’m not staying. I just wanted to talk to them about…” My brain loses track of what I’m saying as I catch a glimpse of the chaos inside the church. “The noise…”

Crank laughs so hard he can hardly breathe. “Holy shit. Let her in. That’s fucking gold.”

Riot grins like that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Go on, then. Let ‘em have it.”

This is a terrible idea. Between the fresh air and the adrenaline, I’ve sobered up enough to know just how out of my depth I am. At the same time, there’s a little niggling of curiosity in the back of my mind that has me moving forward anyway. If I want to write something new, I need to get out of my comfort zone, and this is definitely that.

I was inside this church once or twice when I was a kid. My family was never very religious, but the school occasionally had fairs and barbecues that Gram would take me to. From the outside, the church looks about the same. I walk up the stairs in a daze, taking everything in. On the outside, it’s almost unchanged, but the inside is a temple to Dionysus and Eros, the gods of wine and lust. I walk through the doors and into their inner sanctum like Alice stumbling through the looking glass.

Heavy metal blares from the sound system, drowning out the sea of people who are busy dancing, drinking and who knows what.The old pews have been mostly ripped out, though a few are still around, pushed to the side. A disco ball hangs from the ceiling, catching the pulsing lights and sending rainbow flecks to play fancifully over the stained glass church windows. A big screen TV plays a football game in the back, and behind the altar at the front of the church, instead of a cross, hangs a giant banner with the Outlaw Sons logo. Over it is a black leather biker vest, and underneath there’s a bar stocked with various types of alcohol.

But it’s what’sonthe altar that grabs my attention and freezes me in place: a woman with long, purple hair dancing to the music in nothing but skimpy underwear. Her eyes are closed and there’s a smile on her face as she unhooks her bra and after a moment of teasingly letting it rest on her breasts, sends it flying into the crowd. A tall man with the sides of his head shaved and a tattoo stretching up onto his scalp, snatches it out of the air and cheers. His other arm is in a sling, looking recently injured.

This used to be a church!

She opens her eyes and grins at the biker, hooking her finger and gesturing for him to come closer. My eyes are as locked to her as his are. I drift their way as he pushes through to the front. There’s something about her total confidence that captivates me, and I don’t even swing that way. I don’t know if I want tobeher, or just to have that kind of complete disregard for what anyone might think.

The biker runs his hands up her legs as she gyrates to the beat. Clearly they’re allowed to do more than look here. Her hips swivel in a figure eight so smooth that it makes me want to ask her about her warmup routine. With every slow beat of the music, she drops lower and lower until her crotch is right in front of his face.

I can’t look away. He peels her panties to the side and?—

A calloused hand closes around my upper arm.

I let out a little shriek and spin around. “I was just?—”

Blackout’s green eyes sparkle in amusement as he looks down at me. “Just what?”

Face on fire, I shake my head like a kid caught looking up dirty pictures on the family computer. I came here to… what exactly? File a noise complaint with the management? No wonder the guys at the gate laughed at me. “Nothing. I was, um, looking for one of you.”

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