Page 7 of Aftershock's Fury

THREE

HARLOWE

The sun is still up at nine thirty when I lead Fezzik out to my truck. I don’t want to leave him alone in the hotel room, and I might need him. I spent a lot of time getting myself ready, making sure I look good. I doubt anyone will recognize me. The last time anyone who matters saw me, I was twelve. Now I’m a grown woman with curves and boobs.

I styled my hair in two long, loose Dutch braids down each side of my head, twisting the ends up into a bun at the back. My makeup is minimal, just enough to highlight my features. My lips are painted a soft brownish pink, and my cheekbones are defined with a touch of shimmer. But the outfit is the key.

I’ve never been to an MC bar before, but I remember what the girls in college wore when they went out, so I emulated that look. Daddy never let me go to bars, so this is a first for me. I’m wearing a black cropped tank top that shows off my cut abs, a product of all my hard work. My full C-cup breasts swell over the top just enough to catch attention. My jeans fit like they were painted on, with ripped knees completely exposed. Tan high-heeled boots that look like work boots and a waist-length leather jacket complete the outfit.

I open the back door and help Fezzik inside before climbing into the driver’s seat. My ID, credit card, and some cash are tucked into the inside pocket of my jacket.

I want to fit in but also stand out enough to be a distraction. I don’t want to cause a scene, though. It takes me about twenty minutes in the light traffic to get from downtown Wasilla to the northern part of Meadow Lakes near the Big Lake turnoff.

Rock music pounds through the walls of the bar, and the parking lot is full. I forget that it doesn’t get dark here in the spring like it did back in Texas. I roll Fezzik’s window down all the way so if there’s an issue, he can jump out.

Stepping out of the truck, I notice the men watching me. Several wear Granite Peak Grizzlies Motorcycle Club patched vests, while others wear vests or don’t. The bar caters to MC members and other bikers.

I move through them as if I belong, my head held high as I step onto the porch. I click the fob to lock my truck and set the alarm.

Pushing through the doors, the smell of reefer hits me hard. I know smoking isn’t allowed in bars, but people must be vaping. There’s also the smell of stale beer and sweaty bodies. These scents unsettle me and set my nerves on edge. I squeeze my hands into fists, feeling my nails dig into my palms, then I take a deep breath and move across the crowded room. I head for the bar where one of the bartenders looks familiar. I avoid him and sit where a woman is serving drinks.

Shit, I don’t even know what to order when she asks me. I’ve tried different beers with my father, but they aren’t my favorite. I spot a woman near me with a White Claw and point at it. “I’ll take one of those.”

“Got it, girly.” She reaches down and grabs the drink. She pops the top and hands it to me. I take a swig and feel the warmth spread through my body. For dinner, I DoorDashed some food but mostly picked at it, so I’ll have to be careful with how much I drink.

For hours, I sit off to the side of the bar, watching people mingle, dance, and shoot pool. I’ve turned down several offers because I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to check them out. Only the patched members head toward the back of the building. No one else. The bathrooms are down a different hallway.

“Hey, Red. How about I get you something a little stronger?” a deep voice says beside me.

I turn to see a fairly good-looking guy standing there. He’s young, maybe my age or a bit older. His brown hair is shaggy, and he has a barely-there beard and mustache, like he hasn’t shaved in a couple of days. He’s wearing a vest that marks him as a prospect.

“You’re new here.” His observation skills are stellar.

“Nope. I’m good. Thank you, though,” I say, trying to brush him off.

He raises his hand, and the male bartender I thought looked familiar walks up. I know him. His name flashes through my mind, and I silently pray he doesn’t recognize me. If he does, this little recon mission will be a bust.

“What up, GB?” His voice is deep, and memories of his father flash through my mind.

My cousin Aksel is almost a complete replica of him, even his voice. I don’t see much of my aunty in him. His dark brown hair is curly, and I can just make out hints of auburn that match my hair color. He got that from his mom.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he says to me with a smile before turning back to the guy.

Something in his smile makes me question his nonchalant attitude. He must recognize me.

“Get us a couple shots of tequila,” GB says.

I’m about to stop him when Aksel turns to me. He looks past me, his eyes scanning over my head. I want to follow his gaze, but that might draw attention. So I sit still, praying he’s not trying to flag down my brother. I’ve already scanned the room more than once and haven’t spotted him.

“Gorgeous, do you want to do a body shot with GB here?” Aksel’s voice washes over me, and I feel the blush creep in. My belly tightens. “Don’t chicken out. You’ll hurt his feelings,” he adds with a chuckle.

I sit up straighter on the stool. Oh no, he didn’t. If he knew it was me, there’s no way he’d be encouraging a body shot.

“I’m game,” I say, needing to prove I’m not scared.

Aksel’s low chuckle as he moves around gathering lemons, salt, and two shots of tequila makes me question my decision.

GB is vibrating with excitement next to me. I turn toward him and find him focused on my cleavage. He’s practically drooling.

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