Chapter 2
Are You Over Your Snit?
Ryan
I should have looked away, but that woman had a pull on me and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight of her lush round ass swaying as she walked out the door. Something deep inside me said she was another one of Lark’s conquests, and I suspected she was pregnant to boot, which irritated me.
“How long do we have to do this shit for Lark?” I asked a moment after the door closed.
Killian shoved my shoulder. “We’re prospects. We do whatever the brothers tell us to for as long as it takes.”
I sighed. “What about Mick? She’s not a prospect. And Lark should handle his own shit.”
“Why are you so mad?” Killian asked.
My lips quirked and I shrugged, then faced my brother. “It’s fucked up. Telling women Lark’s not around. Why he sleeps with women half his age—”
“You don’t know that he slept with her,” Killian said, shaking his head.
A bitter laugh crept out of me. “I’m pretty sure she’s pregnant – and it pisses me off.”
Mickayla put a hand on the edge of the glass counter-top and used her other hand to flick her mass of wavy hair behind her shoulder. “Did she say she was pregnant?”
I shook my head.
My sister tilted her head, looking so much like Mom it wasn’t funny. “Then you don’t know anything. Stop assuming, Ry. It isn’t like you.”
I couldn’t stop myself from arguing. “It isn’t like me, but my gut instincts are rarely wrong.”
Mick let go of the counter and leaned toward me. “You aren’t a woman, so please, do us both a favor here, and listen to me. Your gut can be, and very likely is, wrong about her pregnancy status. She was cute and curvy – just how you like your women—”
“Mick,” I started.
She shook her head. “Oh, no, Ry, you earned this. Just because a woman has curves doesn’t mean she’s pregnant. Hell, I get bloated around that time of the month and let me tell you, it sucks.”
I’d heard more than my fair share about my sister’s cycle, and I didn’t want to court more of that.
“Mick, she said it was private. What else could she need from Lark? She’s younger than us.”
“Did you card her?” she asked.
I slid my eyes to the side. “No.”
Killian chuckled. “Yeah, I’m thinking she’s our age or older.
She just drove by, and there’s a picture of her on her car.
Ivy Brummis and her phone number. Looks like she sells real estate.
” He turned his head toward me. “How many women younger than us do you know driving around with a car magnet for that sort of business?”
Mick shot me a knowing look. “Listen, Lark wanting us to keep people away from him isn’t that difficult, and to be fair, it lets him focus on more important shit.
Speaking of important shit, the same group of jerks from the other night came in before her.
I’m going to work the bar, so we don’t have another scene like before. ”
“You mean last night,” I muttered.
She raised her chin defiantly. “Anyway, be on your toes. We don’t need a bar fight tonight. Or any night, really.”
Killian clamped a hand on my shoulder. “Hit the walk-in fridge. We need kegs lined up, and it’ll give you a chance to cool off. Hell, Raff’s here with Alexandra. Chat with them, get your mind off shit.”
I followed my sister into the main barroom and prowled to the walk-in fridge.
Once I was relatively cooled off, I went behind the bar.
On the customer side, Mickayla was chatting with Rafferty and Alexandra.
Rafferty was also prospecting with the Riot MC and, like me and Killian, his dad was a patched member.
Alexandra was Cal’s daughter and he was the Sergeant-at-Arms for the Jacksonville chapter.
I stopped in front of Rafferty. “Another?”
“Sure,” he said.
I felt my sister’s eyes on me while I pulled a bottle of Blue Moon from the cooler.
“Are you over your snit?” she asked.
I put the beer in front of Rafferty, and turned toward Mick. “Not a snit. Like I said, I don’t trust her.”
“How come?” Alexandra asked.
I rested both of my hands on the bar at an angle and leaned toward Alexandra. “Instinct. She’s my age, maybe a little younger. A woman like her shouldn’t be strolling in here, asking about Lark.”
“Why not?” Alexandra asked.
“Lex,” Rafferty said in a warning tone.
Alexandra turned to Rafferty. “It’s a valid question. Why can’t anyone come in here and ask to talk to Lark?”
“Why couldn’t she tell me what she wanted with him?” I asked.
That had to be what rubbed me the wrong way.
Granted, it probably wasn’t my business, but at the same time, that’s the position Lark put me in by insisting that I play gatekeeper with anyone asking after him.
Alexandra turned her hands up on the bar. “I’m just saying, it’s a daunting task to go anywhere looking for someone. It’s even worse when it’s a biker bar and you aren’t part of our culture. I didn’t hear what she said, but from the way she held herself – I don’t think she’s ever met a biker.”
I leaned back and crossed my arms on my chest. “That might be true, but even if this were a mom-and-pop shop, and someone asked why she was looking for someone, saying it’s private isn’t going to cut it.”
Mickayla shook her head. “I don’t know about that, but where is Lark? Did you tell him about this?”
I hadn’t and part of me wanted to keep it from him, for some fucked-up reason.
I shook my head. “No. I went to the keg room to cool off. I don’t know why that woman made me mad, but she did. You can let Lark know that a woman who’s probably thirty years younger than him is looking for him.”
Mickayla narrowed her eyes at me. “She’s not thirty years younger than him. She looks like she’s twenty-one, maybe twenty-two, and Lark is early forties, tops.”
I grabbed a rag from under the bar and wiped down an area to the left of Rafferty. After a beat, I locked eyes with my sister. “Nope, Lark will be forty-nine next week. That puts twenty-eight years between them.”
Mickayla stepped closer to the bar. “Okay, but why do you sound angrier?”
I dipped my chin. “What he does in his free time is his business, but he loves attention from younger women. She said the reason she wanted to see him was ‘private’. What else am I supposed to make of that?”
Rafferty shook his head. “That seems like a stretch, Ry.”
Mickayla spoke before I could respond. “He doesn’t act on most of the attention he gets from younger women, Ryan. But you said it yourself, it’s ‘his business,’ so maybe you shouldn’t jump to conclusions here.”
I took a deep breath, then leaned toward Mickayla. “I’ll do that. But like you said to her, if she comes back, she’s still gotta tell one of us what she wants before she’ll get to Lark.”
“Why are you three his keeper?” Alexandra asked.
Mickayla hurried down the length of the bar, came around to my side of the bar, and sidled up beside me. “It’s part of proving ourselves to him.”
I shot Rafferty a dry look. “I thought it was bullshit until now.”
“Maybe she was a plant,” Alexandra suggested.
Mickayla laughed. “Honey, Lark doesn’t have the time to plan something like that.”
I stared into space for a beat. “No, but I could see another brother doing that to fuck with us.”
Mickayla shrugged. “Whatever. Time will tell. If she even comes back.”
Alexandra’s head bobbed in a couple of short nods, then she looked at me. “Yeah, and maybe you won’t be here when she does.”
“Fat chance. We get no days off here if we want part-ownership,” I said.
“Really?” Alexandra asked.
“As Lark pointed out, small business owners don’t get vacations in their first year,” Mickayla said.
Alexandra tilted her head. “But not even one day off?”
“His terms,” I said, looking between the two of them. “I’ll see you when you leave. Have a good time.”
Technically, the bar was in the midst of a soft launch, and this was our first Saturday night crowd.
As much as I wanted to say the crowd was a mix that mirrored the surrounding neighborhoods, I couldn’t deny what Alexandra had said.
One glance through the patrons, and most people would say this was a biker bar.
Last night, a local band had played from nine until midnight.
Killian and I had to run interference between a couple bikers and a group of three extremely loud and rowdy men.
They weren’t exactly rednecks, but they were similar.
Those same men came in tonight. Fortunately for them, the bikers they riled up last night hadn’t come back.
At least, not yet.
Tonight, Lark had a different band scheduled.
The Muzzle Kings had shown up over an hour ago and were planning to play until one in the morning.
Based on their first set, they featured a decent mix of rock covers and original songs.
They were on a break, and a few of the older patrons left for the night.
Rafferty and Alexandra wandered out, and we said our goodbyes.
Through the glass doors, I watched them swing onto Rafferty’s Harley.
A stab of jealousy ripped through me. Not that I had a thing for Alexandra, but I wanted something like what they had.
They’d been best friends growing up, until they weren’t, and recently they got their heads out of their asses and were giving it a shot.
But I’d never find something like that. My parents loved each other so much and were so vocal and visible about it that I knew I’d never find that kind of love for myself. To be honest, I wouldn’t want it if it came with the amount of pain and suffering they’d gone through.
The door opened and Blood, Volt, and Tundra trudged into the room.
Fifteen minutes later, the two bikers from last night followed them inside, giving me chin lifts as they passed me.
Killian was wandering the room collecting empties during the band’s break. He snuck over to me while carrying a stack of pint glasses almost as long as his arm. “That ain’t good. You should have told them—”
I shook my head. “No fuckin’ way I’m gonna deny two bikers entry for those assholes. Hell, it might force Lark to take a stand.”