Heartbeats & Highways (Tarnished Angels Motorcycle Club #8)

Chapter 1

“Another dark beer for me, sugar tits.”

My smile tightened at the drunken lout whose eyes were glazed with booze and excitement.

“Sure thing,” I gritted out.

He dropped a few sweaty dollar bills onto my tray, his gaze skating down my body. “Appreciate it, honey.”

Yeah, I bet you do.

With a deep breath, I stuffed the bills into the satchel around my waist and wove my way through the crowd. Sweat and blood lingered in the air of the illegal fighting arena. Two men were currently hosing down the ring to get it ready for the last fight of the night.

Someone’s hand grazed my behind. It took everything inside me not to turn and use the tray as a weapon. But assaulting a customer—a paying customer—wouldn’t help my bottom line. And at the moment, that was all I cared about.

I made it to the bar in the corner. Daisy and Roxy were slinging drinks as fast as people ordered them. One of the red, glittery swatches that barely concealed Daisy’s fake breasts slipped to the side, revealing a nipple.

The crowd hooted in appreciation. She looked down and grinned, fluttered her long lashes and quickly readjusted her top. “Oops.”

I knew if I wore something more revealing, I’d make better money. Working in a place like this—I could barely contain the vomit that threatened to surge up my throat. But cash was king. And under the table cash was emperor.

“God, I’d kill for your red hair,” Roxy said in way of greeting. “Please tell me those are extensions. Then I won’t feel so bad.”

My mouth curved. “Sorry. My hair is real.”

“Damn it,” Roxy muttered. “You never see waist-length natural red hair in the wild. It’s gorgeous.”

“Seriously,” Daisy added. “You’ve got the Jessica Rabbit thing going on. Men are obsessed with red heads.”

“Jessica Rabbit?” I asked in confusion.

“Yeah, you know, Roger Rabbit’s wife?” Roxy clarified. “Ring any bells?”

“Oh, right.” I shook my head.

Daisy sighed. “What can I get for you, hun?”

“Three light and three dark,” I said.

“You just had a full tray five minutes ago,” Roxy said. “Your beers are gone already? Impressive.”

“I’m telling you, it’s the red hair.” Daisy grabbed a stack of plastic cups and began pouring pints.

“Twenty bucks says he nods at her,” Roxy said to Daisy.

“You’re on,” Daisy replied.

I frowned. “What are you two talking about?”

“Savage is fighting tonight,” Roxy explained. “He hasn’t been in the ring in a while. But he’s undefeated; a maniac.”

“A sexy-as-hell blond maniac,” Daisy added. “And after he wins a fight, he singles out a girl in the crowd and gives her a nod.”

“He never nods at the same woman twice,” Roxy went on.

“What does the nod mean?” I asked.

“It means, you’re his for the night,” Daisy explained.

I raised my brows at Daisy. “You’re not serious.”

“She’s serious,” Roxy said. “He’s never nodded at either of us though.”

Daisy crossed her fingers. “Here’s hoping . . .”

“Women turn him down, though, right?” I asked.

“Never.” Roxy shook her head. “You’ll understand why when you see him fight.”

I didn’t reply. How could I? I was the new girl and I’d only been working the last two weeks. There was a fight every few nights. The job paid well and it gave me my days free. But it made my skin crawl every time I got into my uniform—a pair of tight jeans and a black pleather vest I’d found at a secondhand store. It wasn’t stripping, but it felt close enough.

I told myself I’d quit. When I had enough cash to move on. But I wasn’t sure that was true. When I held a wad of bills in my hand, a surge of power washed over me. The money was mine . I’d earned it. And so long as I had money, no one could control me.

I put the pints of beer on my tray and walked through the crowd. One by one, the beers disappeared, and tips went into my satchel.

Drinks were free. The cover at the door more than made up for the loss. The customers—mostly men—were loose with their money when they were happy and drunk.

I made it to the customer who’d asked me for a dark beer. He swept the cup off my tray. Before I could leave, he reached out and grasped my wrist. His fingers were clammy, and it took everything in me not to shake him off, but I didn’t want to alert security. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.

“Stay with me,” he commanded.

“Sorry.” I flashed him an insincere smile. “I have to work the floor.”

“Go home with me tonight.”

I swallowed down my fright.

The crowd suddenly began to cheer.

Two men entered the ring. One was huge with dark hair and bulging muscles. He looked like he could break someone’s arm in half like a turkey wishbone.

The other was blond, rippling with muscles, ink, and scars.

Danger and confidence poured off him, causing me to shiver.

It didn’t matter if he was a few inches shorter than his opponent. If I was a betting woman, I would’ve put all my money on him.

“Fight’s about to start,” I said to the man currently holding my wrist. “You don’t want to miss it.”

I pulled my arm from his grasp, fear still coasting down my spine, and disappeared into the crowd.

Oscar’s voice came over the microphone. “We have a special treat for you folks tonight! Get ready to witness the absolute devastation from Toro Masivo, the seven-time undefeated bare-knuckle boxing champion from Tepito in Mexico City! He’s traveled here tonight to crush his opponent like a worm!” The crowd went wild, and Oscar continued. “But who is his opponent? Who will stand up to the might of the massive bull? Who has the courage to fight such a man? Tonight, a crowd favorite, the undefeated bare-knuckle champion of Waco known simply as Savage! What more do you need to know? He’s never lost, and with a name like that you’d better get ready—this fight is going to be insane!”

The throng roared with unbridled excitement. Adrenaline was in the air and people began stomping and cheering at the top of their lungs. A beer went flying across the room accompanied by a hoot from a screaming group of red-faced men.

Daisy and Roxy had warned me not to be in the middle of the crowd during a fight. Bloodlust would leak from the ring onto the floor, coating drunken men in exhilaration and determination.

I made it to the far wall and ducked behind the makeshift wooden barrier. I climbed up onto a keg so I could see the ring.

“Tonight, our fighters will have their hands taped to make sure you get to see one of them beaten to a pulp!” Oscar stated. “The only three rules in this fight are as follows; one, there will be no eye gouging. Two, there will be no blows to the top or the back of the head, or the back of the neck. And three, there will be no winner until one fighter is utterly defeated! This fight is one round only, with no time limit—just pure blood sport. The round will begin at the sound of the bell and ends when one fighter is unable to defend himself any longer. May God be with you both.”

Anxiety spiked along my spine.

The bell rang.

The two fighters came together, their taped hands curled into fists, ready to trade blows. Savage’s fist connected with Toro’s jaw. Shock spread across the bigger man’s face and then anger quickly replaced his daze. He lunged at Savage, but Savage moved out of the way and countered with a jab.

That only enraged Toro further; he punched Savage in the nose so hard blood spattered in a fine red mist onto the floor. But Savage didn’t seem bothered, and only wiped his nose with his hand, staining the white tape around his knuckles blood red. He grinned like a lunatic before pouncing.

As the men beat on one other, the crowd boiled over with excitement at each successive blow. With each spray of blood, with each smack of skin, the throng roared. Toro and Savage fought the way only grown men could—they were strong enough to kill.

Toro began to slow, his movements sluggish as he tried to catch his breath. It was the invitation Savage needed. He kicked Toro’s legs out from under him. After Toro fell to the ground, Savage jumped on top of him and began to pound his face like a blacksmith working a piece of iron with a hammer. After a minute Toro stopped moving, and when Savage stood over his massive, sweaty form, the huge man didn’t get up.

Oscar ran into the ring and then lifted Savage’s arm and declared him the winner.

The crowd roared its approval.

I shivered at the energy and adrenaline in the warehouse.

Savage’s head swiveled with magnetic force; his eyes locked on mine.

My gaze widened and I gasped.

Danger poured off him. Danger and . . . something else.

Ever so slightly, he inclined his head at me.

Desire swirled in my belly.

His claim was obvious, but I had no intention of being summoned or commanded.

I’m not a whore.

I scrambled off the keg and shoved my way to the bar.

There was a lull—patrons that had placed bets on Savage were busy seeking out their winnings, and those who’d lost were pouring out of the establishment as fast as they could.

Daisy and Roxy were standing next to one another having a conversation I couldn’t hear over the rumble of the crowd.

Roxy saw me first. “Hey gal. Amazing fight, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was something else,” I said, my voice breathless as though I’d run a great distance.

“Did you see who he nodded at?” Daisy asked, looking around as if she could find the bearer of Savage’s attention.

“Me,” I exclaimed.

Both of them looked in my direction. Roxy let out a laugh and Daisy grinned. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Roxy demanded. “Go to him. Immediately!”

I shook my head. “No. I can’t. I don’t want—I need to get out of here.”

Daisy studied me, all traces of humor leaving her face. “All right. Leave out the back. We’ll cover for you.”

“Thanks,” I murmured.

I escaped out the back door, refusing to look behind me; refusing to look and see if Savage was watching me flee.