And at this moment, as our lips move in a dance of passion, I know with absolute certainty this is where I belong, lost in the intoxicating embrace of her kiss.
Abruptly, I end it before it goes any further and rest my forehead on hers. “Think of that while you’re away from me.”
Her breaths are ragged, and my heart beats a little faster as she smiles at me. “See you later.”
I let her go, and she slips out the door, closing it behind her. With a soft exhale, I shake off the remnants of our encounter, the weight of her absence already settling in the empty space she leaves behind.
Turning away, I rifle through my drawers for clean clothes and then walk to the shower.
***
The MC has been my life for more years than I care to count. One of my favorite things to do is to work behind the bar and serve my brothers. Some think this is beneath me as I’m road captain and should pass it on to one of the prospects. But something they don’t realize is everyone talks to me. They share all their secrets, and if I can help, even without their knowledge, I do. Which makes me think it isn’t a prospect who betrayed us. They are all so eager to please and to be in our brotherhood. It could be one of our patched-in brothers’ family member, but they all know the score. Creed has mellowed since Devil came into his life, but he’s still the toughest motherfucker I know. It doesn’t sit right withme that it would be someone so close to us. Thinking about it, it troubles me we have a rat.
Today, the air feels charged with something different. The other two chapters are departing on Creed’s orders. He’s determined to prevent any further harm or tragedy under his watch. I stand behind the bar, methodically polishing glasses, when Missy, one of the club’s whores, sidles up beside me.
“What’s the deal?” she asks, her curiosity palpable.
“Dutch and Una are heading back home.”
“To the UK?”
I put down the glass I’m cleaning and pick up another one. “Yeah. He wants his woman safe, and I don’t blame him. And Ghost from our Iowa chapter is headed back today as well.”
Misty smiles and nudges me. “He’s one tall glass of water I could drink all day.”
“Pretty sure he’s got a woman.”
“So? What happens on a ride stays on a ride. Besides, he might like me better.”
Shaking my head, I say, “Don’t you want to be more than a fuck? Try saying no, and maybe one of the guys will want you as his permanent ride, but if you give it willingly to everyone and anyone who smiles at you, you’ll only ever be a club whore.”
Missy sizes me up, a smirk playing on her lips. “Ran into your woman in the kitchen this morning,” she remarks casually. “Never pegged you for a one-woman man.”
“Who says I am?” I counter, grabbing another glass.
She scoffs. “Shedid.”
“Lyric is different, but give her a chance. Show her around, will you?”
Missy picks up a glass and pours herself a whiskey. “Why should I? And who gaveLyricher club name?”
“Don’t be a bitch, Missy. I want her to like it here, and Reaper called her Lyric.”
“Why?” Missy presses, her curiosity piqued.
“Why do I want her to feel welcome, or why did Reaper call her Lyric?” She throws back the whiskey, grits her teeth, and looks me in the eyes. “Both.”
“Maybe I want to be a one-woman man, and she’s a journalist, so Reaper thought Lyric summed her up,” I assert, holding my ground.
“You’re letting an outsider, a damn journalist, into our clubhouse? And you even gave her a nickname?” Missy’s incredulous tone cuts through the air.
Setting the rag aside, I meet her gaze squarely. “What’s your issue?”
Her voice takes on a hint of petulance. “Why haven’t I been given a nickname?”
Feral, lounging at the bar, interjects with a teasing grin, “Because you’re nothing but a bicycle that everyone’s ridden.”
Missy slams her glass down, the sound reverberating through the room, and storms off into the kitchen.
