Page 31 of Sinful
"Helle!" A woman's voice, desperate with relief.
The blonde—Helle—turns, and the moment breaks.
I watch her cross the room toward a dark-haired woman who's standing up from a table.
They embrace, the dark-haired one holding on like she's afraid to let go.
Sisters, maybe. Or very close friends.
Helle's back is to me now, and I can see more details.
Road dust on her boots.
A small tear in the leather near her left knee, recently repaired.
The way she stands even while hugging—balanced, ready to move, never fully relaxed.
"Another?" Njal asks, pulling my attention back to the bar.
"Yeah."
He pours, and I force myself not to look at her again.
But I can feel her presence across the room like a magnetic pull.
The kind of awareness that's either instinct warning me of danger, or attraction I shouldn't be feeling.
Probably both.
A few members drift over to the blonde and her companion, greeting them, creating a small crowd.
She's known here.
Part of this world.
Which makes sense if she's at the bar connected to the clubhouse.
Club family, probably.
Sister or daughter of a member, maybe an ol' lady.
Either way—off limits.
I don't get involved with MC women.
But… damn do I want to.
CHAPTER FOUR
Helle
The beer tastes like coming home, which is exactly the problem.
I'm sitting at the bar with Elfe, nursing a proof that's gone warm in my hands while she updates me on everything I've missed in three years.
The club. The tension with Los Coyotes. The alliance meeting tomorrow that's supposed to save us all.
But mostly, she's talking about Dad.
