Page 1 of Her Outlaw Biker
Chapter One
Clover
I stare a little too hard at the lopsided neon sign above the door to the club.Snakebite Lounge.I’d hoped I would never have to come back to this filthy place. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, willing my heart to calm.
You’ve got this, Clover.
The stench of beer, smoke, and leather hits me the second I step through the door. It’s like walking into a different world, one I never belonged in, but was somehow forced into anyway.
The bar is dim, loud, and pulsing with bad decisions. Neon signs flicker above the warped floorboards, and a Lynyrd Skynyrd song bleeds from the jukebox like a dying animal. Eyes swivel in my direction as I pass, some curious, some leering. I pull my flannel tighter around my chest and keep walking, boots tapping steady even though my heart’s racing wildly.
The Iron Vultures’ table sits in the back, like a throne looking out over hell. I spot the president almost instantly. Black leathers, inked knuckles, laughter with an edge sharp enough to bleed.
Rigs Cross is unmistakable.
He’s thicker than I remember, beard longer, arms roped with tattoos that curl up his neck. A snake on one side, a skull on the other. How fitting.
He glances my way and my heart slams hard against my chest.
Oh God, maybe I don’t got this…
“Well, well,” he drawls when I reach the table. “If it ain’t little Clover Raymond.”
I fist my hands at the “little” he’s attached to my name. I’m nineteen now, but this man has had me running errands for the MC since I was only fifteen. My fingers dig into my palms as I suppress the urge to turn on my heels and run.
“You called. Now, I’m here,” I say, managing to keep my voice calm. I can’t let him see my fear. Men like Rigs prey on the terror of others, and I’ll be damned if I let him catch me off guard. Again.
Rigs grins, showing a gold tooth that catches the light. “Didn’t think you had the balls.”
I don’t. Not really.
But my father’s life—well, what’s left of it—hangs in the balance.
“What do you want?”
He leans back, spreading his arms like some twisted preacher. “Your old man’s in deep. You know that. Loan’s overdue, interest climbing by the hour. With him drinking all day, his garage is worthless now, and we ain’t a charity.”
“I know,” I say quietly.
Rigs leans forward again, folding his hands on the scarred wood table. “The way I see it, you owe the Iron Vultures fifty grand. But…I’m feelin’ generous tonight. We’ll clear the debt. Wipe it clean.”
I blink. My stomach drops, because I know there’s a catch. “What’s the price?”
He smirks. “Ghost.”
My blood runs cold. “Ghost?”
“Yeah. Jack Maddox. Went dark on us three years ago. Lives out in the desert now, hiding like a ghost in his tin-can trailer.” His voice hardens. “We want him back for one last job. You bring him in…and your old man’s debt disappears.”
I stare at him, stunned. “I’ve only heard about Ghost. I don’t even know what he looks like.”
“You don’t have to. I’ve got his location. You just have to…lure him out. Use what you got.” His eyes sweep over me suggestively, his mouth curving in a leering smile. I resist the urge to puke. “He won’t see you coming.”
I clench my fists. “And if I say no?”
Rigs shrugs. “Then your daddy dies broke and drunk and all alone. Maybe you do too. Accidents happen.”
My chest tightens, my stomach twisting into knots even as I raise my chin defiantly. “Is that a threat?”
