Page 21 of Bounty
Mom belched. “Priscilla invited me.”
“Prissy won your stupid contest,” Striker said. “You came. You saw. You researched. It’s time to go.”
“I came. I saw. I conquered,” Mom corrected around another burp. “Veni, vidi, vici.”
“Come on, Daria,” an unfamiliar female voice said. “Striker wants you and the girls to leave. I’ll call an Uber.”
“We couldn’t get rides on the back of a motorcycle?” Mom pressed.
Groaning, I covered my face. Not only because of her persistence, but my date was a total fucking loss. Other than that earth-shattering kiss, Slice and I hadn’t connected the way I’d hoped.
“You better get them there in one fucking piece,” Striker growled.
Wondering what I missed, I lifted my head and glanced at Slice. He shrugged.
Chairs slid back, a spur or four jingled, and belt chains rattled. The chatter of women—Mom—peppered the air. The door opened and a breeze rushed in. I swallowed, afraid to hope Mom left. In the silence, I heard motorcycles flaring to life and then fading away in the distance.
Striker returned to the table and threw a pack of cigarettes on it. He sat.
“Thanks, brother,” Slice said. “I appreciate your help.”
“You should. Did this shit for you, Pretty Boy.” Striker leered at me. “Don’t let my work go to waste.”
“She wanted to dance,” Slice said evenly.
A half grin curved Striker’s mouth. His eyes were pretty. His contemplation was not. “I’m sure.”
As much as Striker’s words unnerved me, he didn’t stop us when Slice took my hand and guided me to the jukebox, filled with CDs. He handed me a twenty and nodded.
“Ladies first.”
I didn’t hesitate. I inserted the money into the slot and foundTennessee Whiskeyby Chris Stapleton. It didn’t matter that we were the only couple in the small dance space or that we were the center of attention. The feel of his arms around me, the sound of his croon as he sang the words to me, righted all the wrongs of the evening. We were meant to be.Thiswas meant to be.
This was the first day of the rest of my life as Slice’s ol’ lady.
The evening didn’t unfold as I’d expected. Daria warning me away from her daughter dashed the few plans I had and completely threw me off. Just when Effie and I were getting back on track, the damn woman popped up again. As Effie’s mother and my boss, I’d never openly disrespect her. But she was a bimbo, plain and simple, who put herself and her readers at riskto indulge in a fantasy.
How in the world do you write about fucking bikers for a living, and be shocked when they expect you to pitch pussy?
Women who came to the club were either ol’ ladies, club girls who fucked everything in sight, or on the hunt for a biker to rock their world. Those three basic categories were not hard to grasp. Yet, the MC author seemed clueless that she fit the mold for the third category.
And I almost blew my cover, thanks to fucking Desmond, the prick.
Shaking my head, I finished taking a leak, shaking my cock off before I tucked him back in my jeans. Effie had run to the little girl’s room, and I’d seized the opportunity to relieve my expanded bladder. Once I washed and dried my hands, I walked out. I’d instructed Effie to head straight to Striker’s table if she finished before me. She’d listened, sitting pretty, a vision despite her evident discomfort. Only Striker sat with her, and though he wasn’t as bad as some of my club brothers, he was a dirty dog unsuited for the company of someone like Effie.
Strolling over, I held my hand out to her. “A few more songs, then we’ll head out.”
At the relief sweeping over her face, I side-eyed the fuck out of Striker. He just shrugged and grinned. Instead of pushing the issue, I grasped her hand and tugged her back to the dance floor.Smileby Florida Georgia Line was playing, and we quickly found a rhythm, swaying to the beat together.
“What was Striker telling you?”
“Nothing,” she replied, a complete load of bullshit.
Her dismissive tone and evasive answer only fueled my curiosity. Chances were a less-than-subtle pass by Striker disgusted Effie. If I got confirmation of my theory, it’d do nothing but piss me off. He outranked me, so beating his ass for disrespecting my girl simply wasn’t an option.
Wait.
My girl?
