CHAPTER FIVE
Layla
I swallow the burn of a shot of whiskey in the break room. We aren’t really supposed to drink during our shifts, but I think I need it to get through tonight. I’ve just closed the magazine I’ve been staring at for the last ten minutes without reading a word.
“Holy shit, it’s a busy night out there!
” Amber, one of the night servers, says as she breezes into the break room and reaches for the cigarettes in her bag.
She’s pretty and kind. Her family is from Thailand and her parents split their time between here and there still, but she rarely goes back with them when they travel, choosing to stay alone in their upscale home when they’re gone.
She was the first one to befriend me when I started here, and she smiles at me now.
Her dark hair is cut into long layers with wispy bangs, and she’s always styled to perfection.
“It’s the rain,” I tell her as I stand and straighten my skirt. “It brings everyone in, because what else are they gonna do in a hundred-degree heat and a thunderstorm?”
“Yeah, and it’s still pouring. I heard it’s supposed to last all night.”
Great.
“Makes you wonder how long the bikers will stay. Don’t see them around here, ever.” Amber pulls the thought from my head as she fiddles with tucking her shirt into her tight black dress pants.
I look at my reflection in the mirror, seeing the eyes of my mother staring back at me. Grief washes over me and I swallow down the lump in my throat. There are moments I almost see her. Almost feel her hand over mine, or see her eyes crinkle in the corners as she smiles.
I’ve had this vision since she died and it clouds my mind—the woman behind the bars, clinging to them.
The woman isn’t either of us per se, more a mix, but she looks like us and she’s begging to be freed.
It isn’t unusual to see me in her, but after the encounter with Ax at the bar just now and the way I spoke my mind, she looks different—a little bolder now, as if there is a glimmer of hope.
As if her freedom might be a possibility.
“Three bikers in our club is like mainstream news,” I comment, keeping my eyes on my reflection.
“They aren’t difficult to look at, if you know what I mean,” Amber snickers as she applies her own lipstick and pushes her tits up. “God, the biggest one is hot. Like, I’d scale him like a tree if I wasn’t afraid he’d do some weird shit like tie me up and spank me red.”
The idea of the sergeant’s hands on me flashes into my mind again. I push it away and fix my necklace in the mirror.
“Well, spankings aside, hopefully for Chantel’s sake they were good tippers,” I laugh, turning to check out my ass in my skirt. It registers with me that we don’t really have a time limit for customers, so as long as they keep ordering, they could stay here until close.
I lean into the mirror and fluff my ponytail, then carefully touch up my lipstick, rubbing my lips together with a slight pop.
I’m trying not to romanticize someone who is probably just a cocky, womanizing criminal, because he’s the exact opposite of what I’ve always thought I want in a man.
My mind drifts to the lines of his sculpted hands and I remind myself that those hands have probably done terrible things in the name of his club.
What those hypnotic green eyes have witnessed would probably give me nightmares.
And then I ask myself again why the hell I’m so transfixed by him. Why the hell do I care?
But try as I might, while Amber rambles on about another server she doesn’t like, the vision of Ax stalking toward me with his face partially covered by that black bandana floods my mind and I let myself take it a step further.
I imagine his body over mine, pressing up against me and whispering into my ear in that gruff, deep voice.
Those rough, experienced hands drifting down my sides—
“Are you behind the bar for the rest of the night?” Amber asks, cutting into my headspace as she spritzes hairspray. I blink and force myself to take a deep breath.
“Yep,” I say, keeping my eyes on the mirror as I release the breath. “But I still have some time left on my break.”
“Alright, I’m going for my smoke. See you out there,” she calls. I smile, knowing Amber is heading out to our covered patio. She only allows herself one or two cigarettes a day. She calls it “stress balance.”
“Sure thing.” I snap my eyes to her in the mirror as she leaves the room.
I give my ponytail one final tighten, and I swear the shadow of something catches my eye behind me. I turn, suddenly feeling like I’m not alone. My breath quickens as my eyes move back and forth, waiting, but I hear nothing.
“You’re losing it,” I mutter under my breath, then decide I might as well get back out there early.
Sitting in the break room thinking about how the big bad biker’s hands would feel sliding up my naked thighs isn’t helping anyone.
Namely my thin cotton panties that already feel a little more damp with just the thought.
All the storage is partway down a long narrow hallway of warm brick, flanked with black sconces every so often for the same ambience as the restaurant itself.
Right in the middle sits the giant dry goods walk-in pantry, and across from it is a massive walk-in cooler that houses all the cold goods and frozen items. The door to it looks like a bank vault and the lights turn on automatically when we open the door and walk inside.
I pull the heavy door open and make my way in so I can grab limes for the bar, only the light doesn’t turn on.
I pause and step backward over the threshold, then back into the cooler, hoping to trigger the motion sensors and waiting for the light.
But there’s nothing. I lean outside the door to reach for the manual switch, wondering why the automatic sensor is off, when two strong arms wrap around me from behind and pull me in.
His scent washes over me and I instantly know exactly who is in this cooler with me.
I open my mouth to scream, my blood thickening with fear, but I can’t call out because a heavy hand is clamped down over my mouth as my chest is pushed up against the frigid cooler wall.
His deep, gruff timbre fills my ears as my vision from earlier comes to life.
“Let’s see if fear is what you wish for, little dove …”