Chapter 10 Sandra
SANDRA
They take me up on the highway towards the coast, leaving Detch and South Side in the dust behind us.
Eventually the sprawl of the city is a beautiful glitter of lights in the dark, while the cool night air makes my hair flutter.
I close my eyes and lean my cheek against Zero’s jacket and just enjoy the rumble beneath us.
A lot of people look down on this life. Scared by the actual danger of riding a motorcycle, or afraid of the looks and reputation, but from the inside, it doesn’t feel like that. I feel untouchable, and on a night like tonight, I can definitely see the appeal of life on the road, carefree and wild.
The roar of their engines is an unapologetic shout. “Take me for who I am and fuck anyone who can’t handle it.”
Eventually, we pull off the highway again, and after a few turns, find ourselves outside a bar hidden away in an old strip mall.
Motorcycles line the sidewalk in front, and next to them bikers stand around drinking, smoking and talking.
The stores on either side have blacked out windows, but there's a big neon one over the entrance, labeled the Burnout.
I climb off, just barely beating Beast to lifting me off. I'm grown, I can do this myself, as much as the idea of being held in his arms is tempting. And then I have to steady myself on him anyway, when my legs momentarily turn to jelly.
"Whoa, you okay?" He puts his arm around me and holds me close against him.
"Yeah, just haven’t ridden that far in a while." I find my legs, but it feels nice to be held, so I lean into it instead of pulling away. "What is this place?"
"They said you wanted somewhere away from the club, and since that ruled out the Eagles' Roost, we thought it would be good to take a drive.
The Outlaw Sons hang here a lot and our clubs are on good terms these days, but no one who'd know anything about you.
" Zero shrugs. "Should be friendly. I think. "
That sounds a little ominous, but before I can ask, we're heading in.
I haven’t been in a real biker bar in years, but it’s pretty much exactly what I would expect.
Not quite as big as the Eagles’ Roost, but with the same smell of cigarettes, leather, beer and men.
The combination of background music and loud chatter is deafening.
There's a bar on the right, staffed by a beefy-looking guy with his head shaved as clean as a cue ball.
A gold hoop hangs in one ear, and intricate tattoos cover his muscled arms and thick neck, emerging from his tight black T-shirt.
He looks up as we walk in, his thick eyebrows going up in surprise. "You bastards are a little far afield, aren’t you? Did some birdies fly the nest and get lost?" His gruff voice cuts through the noise like a knife.
The whole room quiets, other than the background music that suddenly seems way too loud. Heads turn and everyone takes a good look. It doesn’t feel outright hostile, but it’s not exactly a warm welcome.
"I thought you said they were on good terms," I hiss to Zero, who's closest, while I move to put him between me and them. What have they gotten us into?
"What's going on?" Beast asks. "We’re square with the Sons.”
The bartender narrows his eyes. “Whoop-de-doo.
See, the last time a bunch of Eagles came in here, I had to spend the rest of the fucking day cleaning up the place.
You're lucky Eagle-eye paid me for the broken counter, otherwise I wouldn't be this friendly.
" He taps beer into a glass and puts it down next to a guy who’s too busy watching the drama to notice.
"Not looking for trouble." Piston holds up both hands, palms facing out. "This isn’t club business, just passing through."
"I’m holding you to that." The bartender gives a nod, and relaxes, if only just a little bit. He looks at me first. "What'll you have, honey?"
“Um… do you have a non-alcoholic beer?”
Someone laughs, but the bartender just nods. “Sure thing.” Beast and the others just get regular beer.
“You don’t drink?” Zero asks once we’ve found a booth to hide in. I’m sitting next to him, with Beast and Piston across from us.
I shrug. “Not really. Is that a problem?”
Piston shakes his head. “Nah, my dad was a mean drunk. I’ve got a lot of respect for anyone that steers clear. Just surprised I guess.”
“I…” It’s so hard to tell how much to share.
Too little and it opens a hundred questions, too much and people get weird about me trauma dumping.
“It’s not really about the alcohol. I got into some trouble when I was seventeen.
I was lucky to get a judge who cared enough to send me to a rehab program instead of juvie.
When I got out, staying clean was part of the conditions of the program, then I kept it up so my sister didn’t worry.
By the time I was twenty-one, drinking felt like a door that didn’t need to get opened if that makes sense.
What other people do doesn’t bother me, but I avoid it personally. ”
“I fucked up my arm in high school,” Beast says softly. “That was back when they were still giving out the good stuff like candy. Took me a few years and meeting someone who finally gave a shit to help me out of that hole, so yeah, I get it.”
“Is it my turn to share?” Zero takes a drink and shrugs. “Sorry, I patched the void in my wounded young soul by graduating early and working out three hours a day. Booze came later.”
“And yet we’ve all still ended up here.” Piston raises his beer and we all clink our glasses together.
"Aaaanyway. Tell me about this fight that was bad enough the bartender looked ready to run us out of here." I take a sip and watch them over the glass.
Beast laughs. "Was two years ago I think? Someone stirred up trouble between the Eagles and the Outlaw Sons, and a few of our boys took a trip out here to make a point."
“And that point broke a counter?”
“That we paid for,” Zero points out. “But it’s all good these days. Won't say we're buddies, but we help each other out sometimes. One of the old ladies even has a brother in the Sons." At my curious glance, he adds, "Mila. She’s with Reaper, Scrapper and Mack."
“Really?”
"Yep. We helped her get her brother outta jail and blow open some big time city business that had gone rotten. It was all over the news," Piston explains.
"I think I remember that. A judge died or something, right? I was away at school and not really paying attention."
“What were you studying?” Zero asks.
“I thought I wanted to be a vet.”
"But you didn’t?" Beast puts a warm hand on my thigh, not demanding, but I can't help but notice that it's there.
I take a long sip while I think about how to answer that. “Nope. I liked the idea of being a vet, but the whole college experience wasn’t for me.”
“So that’s why you’re working at the rescue?” Zero slips his arm around my waist, resting his rough fingers on the midsection exposed by my shirt. I guess I started it by leaning into him. It feels nice.
"Pretty much, I still want to work with animals. They’re so much easier than people. As long as you love them and take care of them, they think you’re great.”
"So more or less like me," Piston says with a laugh. He clinks his glass with mine.
Beast cocks his head, confused. "Wait. I heard you were going back to school, though?"
“Next topic. I thought the whole reason to drag me out tonight was to even the score, not therapy.”
Zero's grip around my waist tightens. “Even the score?”
“Yeah. You know. Since I’ve kissed Piston and Beast but not you.” I say it half joking, but it’s the not joking part that makes the mood around the table shift.
The bar is packed, but having all the noise and chaos around us makes our dark corner feel like a little bubble of privacy. Zero shifts me from cuddled up against his side, to straddling his lap. There’s barely enough room. The table is pressed against my back and my knees are straddling his hips.
His blue eyes seem bottomless in the dim light. “This isn’t a game. I’m not keeping score.”
Piston was easy to like. It would’ve been harder to not find a big sexy guy carrying an injured puppy attractive.
Then when he kept being so damn nice, it just got easier.
And Beast slots in seamlessly next to Piston.
The depth of their friendship is obvious, even when they’re trash talking in the ring.
The two of them feel like a mismatched set. Different, but meant to be together.
But I still don’t know what to make of Zero.
His edges feel sharper. Attraction is no problem.
His light hair and blue, blue eyes could make him seem washed out, but they don’t.
It just makes him more striking. Up close, I cup his face in one hand and stroke my thumb over the stubble on his angular jaw.
He reminds me of an animal that’s used to violence and is biding its time, waiting to see if the touch will turn to pain.
He’s not a rescue any more than I am, but there’s something there that I feel a connection to.
“You’re right. It’s not a game. But do you want to kiss me anyway?” I ask softly.
Zero shifts his head and my thumb brushes against his lips.
I gasp as he sucks it into his mouth and strokes his tongue over the tip before letting it go.
Does that mean yes? It feels like a yes.
He cradles my head in both hands and pulls me down to meet him.
My palm slaps against the wall behind our booth and I let out a ridiculously needy whimper as he claims my mouth.
It’s hot, demanding and flat out amazing.
One of his hands combs through my hair before sliding down my back to rest on the bare skin between my jeans and my shirt.
My hips rock forward without asking permission from my brain.
Ooooooh, these guys are such a bad idea that it wraps around into being good again.
There’s a dry cough from behind me. “I don’t want to interrupt, but I think we might have trouble,” Beast says.
The only way I can describe what happens to Zero is that he slams down a wall and goes from molten hot to icy cold in an instant. I’m off his lap and tucked between him and the wall before I have time to process what’s happening.
“Where?”
Piston subtly points with his glass and a flick of his eyes towards the other side of the room.
“Rat! You’re drunk. Leave it!” a woman whines, pulling at the arm of a greasy looking man in jeans and a leather jacket.
The man shakes her off and comes our way. “No fucking way. They were the ones that showed up here! Yeah, I’m talking to you,” he snarls, slapping his hands down on our table. “This isn’t your territory, go back to your own fucking city.”
“Did one of you fuck his mom or something?” I ask innocently.
All four men stare at me like I grew a second head. Whoops.
Rat—or whatever the heck his name is—lunges in my direction, but he must be pretty drunk if he didn’t account for having to get past three Screaming Eagles to get to me.
Zero blocks the grab and pivots out of the booth, twisting Rat’s arm and driving him straight into the back of another guy. "Don’t even fucking think about touching her.”
I just can’t stay out of trouble, can I?