Outlaw Bodyguards (Property of the Outlaw Sons MC #5)

Chapter 1

“You must be dying in that outfit,” Erika whispers.

A drop of sweat runs down the back of my neck and under the collar of my tight leather jacket. “You have no idea. Want to trade?”

Desdemona, my character, is a half-demon college student.

Inferno was a demon-owned club in the show, so whenever I was there I was dressed head to toe in tight black leather with chunky platform boots.

Erika’s luckier tonight. She’s my co-star, and her character Gloria is part angel, so she’s wearing a light flowy dress with her gorgeous halo of dark curls pulled up high with strands of metallic gold filigree.

Her eyes sparkle as she laughs. “Not on your life. Are you good here? I think I should go rescue Toby before the photos.”

Toby sends us a desperate look from near the dance floor where he’s been cornered by several fans. In the show, Toby’s werewolf family is a biker gang called The Wild Things, so there are plenty of bikers, demons and the occasional angel wandering around in the crowd.

“Go on, get your boy.”

“He’s not my boy!” she hisses under her breath.

Toby plays Erika’s werewolf love interest in the show, and there’ve been bets going all year among the cast about when they’re finally going to get together for real.

I might tease her, but I never joined the bets because I know she actually likes him.

She’s just afraid the relationship would be doomed if the public found out.

As soon as she’s gone, a slender guy with glasses and a ponytail slides into her place. “Hey, I’m Keith. Do you have a second?”

“Hi Keith.” I smile, frantically trying to remember if I know him or not. Something about him seems familiar.

“I run a fan community for the book series. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

“Saving the Blog! Of course, yeah!”

His face lights up. “I read that you know the books, but I wasn’t sure if it was true or just something you said, you know?”

“Hah, I wish. I was actually embarrassingly obsessed with them in high school. You should’ve seen me when Tamika was around. I fangirled hard. Like, the actual author? For real? So what’s your question?”

“Okay, um… So, in episode four, when the zombie rats are blocking the way into the access tunnel under the library, in the books, Des reveals her demonic animal affinity for the first time, but in the show, you just slash through them with your scythe. Do you know if they’re planning on cutting that ability out? Because it’s a big part of—”

“The third book, yeah I know. It was a budget thing. Nobody was sure if the show would do well enough to get a second season let alone a third so they tried to cut out magic effects unless they were really important. The scriptwriters worked directly with Tamika and she signed off on any big plot changes so I’m sure they’ll figure it out if we make it that far into the story. ”

“Sorry! We have to steal Quinn,” Toby says, interrupting with a hand on my elbow. “Time to work.”

“Nice to meet you, Keith,” I call as my co-stars guide me away.

The next half hour goes by in a blur of photos and autographs, including one with Keith and the three of us.

By the time we stop for a break, I’m dying for something to drink and half wondering if I should look up the first signs of heatstroke.

I break away from the group and head to the bar, my steps falling naturally in time with the thump thump thump of the music.

Dizzying colored laser effects dance around the room in time with it.

I squeeze between a couple of the biker extras at the bar.

They look good. Really good, actually. I don’t remember the set costumes looking quite so authentic up close, but these guys fill them out nicely.

They have a lot of ink and some scary looking scars, and I can’t quite tell if it’s makeup, or if they were chosen because they already fit the part. Staring too hard seems rude.

“Are you guys as ready to get out of these clothes as I am?”

One of the bikers starts coughing like he just choked on his beer. He’s tall and built, with unruly auburn hair a few shades darker than my own. A small silver barbell cuts through his eyebrow and solid black bands are tattooed around his biceps and forearms.

The other pounds him on his back. “Excuse me?”

“The costumes? The AC must be fighting for its life because I’m dying in all this leather.

” I blink up into a pair of sky blue eyes.

What does he look like out of costume? Because dressed up like this looks good on him.

He has short dark blond hair and a full beard.

His arms are covered in a motley patchwork of ink, and it stretches all the way up onto his neck. No way that’s makeup.

“Is it too late or can I get a picture with the three of you?” a girl in a sparkly dress asks.

“It’s no problem.” I climb onto a bar stool between them, and get up on my knees so I can be tall enough to rest an arm on each of their shoulders. They must be extras because they sure don’t seem to know how to pose. “Put your arms around my waist, guys. For the camera.”

I give her a sassy grin and raise one hand, throwing devil horns with my pinkie and index fingers raised.

The one picture turns into two, turns into another mini-photoshoot when people notice what we’re doing.

The whole time, I can feel the heat of their arms behind me, and where their hands are wrapped tight at my waist. It holds me steady and for once tonight the extra warmth isn’t a bad thing.

Finally it seems like the fans have gotten their fill, and go looking for other stars to take pictures of.

“Does that happen a lot?” the biker with the dark red hair asks. “Must be a pain in the ass.”

“Nah, tonight is kind of special since it was advertised, you know? It’s not like I’m famous or anything. I’m Quinn, by the way. I know you probably know that, but it feels kind of weird to just assume.”

“Colt,” the redhead says, holding out his hand. His fingers wrap firmly around mine, but he doesn’t pull any macho, hand squishing BS.

The blond smiles. Under the beard I bet there’s at least one dimple. “Sinner.”

“Really sticking to the biker theme, huh?”

“Sure, what’s it called? Method acting?” Sinner grins at his buddy.

Colt snorts.

He has nice lips. Relationships are a distraction I can’t afford, but I’m not immune to the lure of occasionally getting cozy in a dark corner with a sexy extra. Sex is overrated, if you ask me, but kissing… Kissing deserves more attention. You can tell a lot about a person by how they kiss.

“Do you guys want to dance?” I could claim my bravery is from the half a beer I’ve had tonight, but it’s really just because right now, I’m not Quinn flirting with sexy strangers. I’m Desdemona, asking a couple of co-workers to play the part for the length of a song or two.

“Absolutely. Let’s go, Demon.” Sinner holds out his hand and pulls me to the dance floor.

Behind me, Colt follows, closing me in between them like a solid wall of man. “Priest is gonna flip his shit.”

“Yeah, well, he should’ve thought of that before being late,” Sinner responds.

“Who’s Priest?”

Colt smirks. “A friend.”

“Was he supposed to be working tonight, too?” I let out a little gasp when Colt’s arm comes around me from behind and the three of us start moving together to the music. This is the first time I’m getting cozy with two extras at once, and it’s kind of fun.

One song turns into two. Two turns into four.

Sometimes it’s Colt behind me and Sinner in front, sometimes they switch, passing me easily between them.

At some point the heat gets to be too much and my jacket comes off.

By the time Colt’s hands are on my hips and Sinner’s fingers are ghosting my bare shoulder, my eyes have drifted shut and I’ve forgotten that this is work, and not play.

“Can’t leave you fuckers alone for a minute, can I?” a gravelly voice asks with a sly hint of humor.

My eyes open to another biker, dressed to match Sinner and Colt. “Hi! You must be Priest.”

Surprise flashes across his face, then warm brown eyes slide down my body before working their way back up. “My reputation precedes me. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting you to be quite so… welcoming.” He says it like he’d heard I was difficult to work with or something.

“What do you mean?” My body stops moving to the music and slowly Colt and Sinner pull away.

“She thinks we’re extras,” Colt says.

Priest cocks his head. “And you just went along with it?”

Sinner shrugs. “Was more fun that way.”

“What are you guys talking about?” I look at them again. Really look.

I’d noticed right away that they seemed rougher than usual, and their costumes weren’t the same as the ones on the show, but I hadn’t really thought much about it.

A lot of different kinds of people take background jobs for fun and a little money.

They might not fit the clean-cut look of most professional actors, but there’s always work for people who can really pull off the big, rough, and scary look.

“Quinn, do we look like actors to you? Do I look like one?” Priest is waiting for something, and seems a little annoyed at me for not automatically knowing what it is.

His leather biker vest is open, revealing a black T-shirt that hugs his chest like a second skin.

His muscular arms are bare and covered in colorful ink.

There’s an angel down his left arm and a devil on the right.

It fits perfectly for tonight. His hard jaw is stubbled and his long black hair is pulled back, showing the shaved sides.

“You don’t not look like actors.” I stare, suddenly very unsure. He said my name like he knows me, but someone like him? You’d think I’d remember.

“Have I really changed that much, Q?”

The bottom drops out of my world.

“Heath?” He’s older, filled out and all grown up. He looks nothing like I remember, but now that I’m looking, I can see what’s left of the boy I knew in his face.

“Haven’t heard that name in years,” he says with a chuckle.

I take a step back, bumping into Colt. “I don’t understand. You aren’t here to work? Then why…” I gesture confusedly at their clothes.

Sinner’s mouth quirks up at the corner. “It’s not a costume.” He turns slowly and I take in the logo on the back of his vest.

“The Outlaw Sons MC?”

Like most sane people, I’ve never had any run-ins with them personally, but The Outlaw Sons are notorious in this city. According to the rumors, they’re dangerous criminals, willing to do just about anything. Drugs, smuggling, weapons dealing, murder. Whatever you can imagine, for the right price.

Heath, or Priest, or whatever his name is now, nods. “Guilty as charged.” There’s a challenge in his gaze, like he’s daring me to run.

I remember Heath as my brother’s best friend.

They were about seven years older and I’m sure I was a pain in their asses, but Axel was always good about letting me tag along.

As I got older I realized he was trying to shelter me from what was going on in the house, but as a kid I felt like one of the gang when I was with them.

Heath was my first crush, when I wasn’t even really old enough to understand why his smile made my insides do cartwheels.

There are so many things I could say, but all that comes out is, “It’s been a long time.”

“Since Axel.” His lips pull tight at the memory. “He’d be fucking over the moon if he saw you. Maybe not in that outfit, but—shit.” His expression hardens with regret. “Coming was a fucked up idea. I’m real glad you’re doing well. Have a good life, kid.”

Before he gets a chance to turn away and vanish from my life again, I grab his wrist. We both stare down at my hand, like touching made this whole situation more real somehow.

“No, wait. It’s fine. I… I’m glad you’re here, just surprised.

Stay. Talk to me. Why do they call you Priest? Are you religious now?”

Sinner snorts a laugh.

“Fuck off.” Heath’s tone makes it sound like telling Sinner to fuck off is a daily occurrence.

“Oh, come on, the pretty lady asked you a question.” Colt puts his hand on Heath’s shoulder. He and Sinner seem to be enjoying Heath’s discomfort.

“Well, I could ask you the same. What kind of names are Sinner and Colt? Is there a rule about not using normal names if you’re a biker?”

Sinner shrugs. “It’s no secret that we don’t exactly live the kind of life you put on your taxes.

There’s safety in anonymity. Some guys have reasons, some just liked the sound of it.

I picked Sinner because I’ve made terms with the shit I’ve done and I don’t need anyone’s forgiveness.

Colt, on the other hand, it’s probably ‘cause he wants the ladies to think he’s hung like a hor—”

Colt elbows him hard enough in the gut to knock Sinner’s laugh into a soft wheeze. “When you run out of thoughts and prayers, it’s the Colt that finishes the job.”

I nod with mock seriousness. “Very scary.”

He narrows his eyes, hesitating a second before adjusting his stance to flash the butt of a gun nestled at his side. I suck in a surprised breath. He’s had it on him the whole time, even while we were dancing. Sinner and Heath don’t seem surprised.

Are they carrying, too? In the span of a few songs, my whole evening has been turned on its head.

“Easy,” Heath says under his breath when he sees my panic rising.

“Nobody’s looking for trouble here tonight.

To answer your question, Q, no. For a time I went looking for meaning, and it was nice to think there was some greater fucking plan that I couldn’t see.

The more fucked up things got, the harder I looked, but at the end of the day I decided I don’t give a shit. ”

“What do you mean?”

“If there’s someone out there pulling our strings, they can go ahead and fucking do it. Heath was the hand I was dealt. Priest is the life I made for myself. If this is all we get, I’m not going to waste my time worshiping the fucker just to stay on their good side.”

“That’s what I’m fucking saying,” Sinner agrees.

“One more round?” Colt asks.

Heath—no, Priest—looks down at me with a question in his eyes. If I tell him to leave, they’ll walk out the door and I don’t think I’ll ever see him again.

My mother’s voice is in my head, telling me to listen to her and not to be stupid.

Men are distractions, and these aren’t the type of people I want my brand associated with.

But it’s just one night, and who would even pay attention?

I bet everyone else assumes they’re part of the cast for the party just like I did.

Nobody will notice me hanging out with a few extras.

“Stay.”