Chapter Twenty-Six #2
He laughed. “Just Throttle wondering where the hell I am. I’m supposed to be there as part of the greeting crew. At least that’s what he and Tank said. I think they’re fuckin’ with me, but we better go in case it’s legit.”
The cold air bit at her cheeks as they walked toward the driveway. Rags opened the car door for her, and she slipped in the passenger’s seat.
“I wondered if you were going to bring your Harley,” she said when he settled into the SUV.
“If it hadn’t snowed earlier, I would’ve. But now that I’ve see you in that short-as-hell skirt, it’s a good thing I brought the cage, otherwise I’d be punching a lot of assholes on the way to the clubhouse.”
Casey laughed. “You love being a badass, don’t you?” She placed her hand on his thigh.
He winked. “And you love that I am one, don’t you, darlin’?” He lifted her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to it.
Snow-clad trees blurred past, glistening under the fading light as houses blinked on one by one.
A sliver of excitement mixed with nervous tightened in Casey’s gut when Rags turned off the old highway and onto a narrow road.
Ahead, a large steel gate loomed with a security booth behind it.
Rags jerked his head toward the biker inside, and the clank of steel echoed as the gates rolled open.
After a short drive down the road, the clubhouse—an imposing three-story brick building—came into view.
Leather-clad men filled the front. The sleek chrome on their Harleys shattered the sunset into brilliant fragments of orange, pink, and gold while the bikers stood as a dark, united front, punctuated by glints of reflected fire on their zippers, snaps, and buckles.
Rags parked and jumped out, hurrying around to open Casey’s door. She stepped out and shivered, a reaction born not just from the cold, but from the wave of familiarity and the memories it threatened to stir. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing away any images of her time with JT.
“Remember to stay with me. And, don’t get involved in any conversations with the guys, or when I’m talking with them.”
“Okay.” She smiled.
“Are you sure you know the rules?”
“Yep. Let’s go.”
Rags stared at her for a long second, then clasped her hand and led her toward the crowd.
“Hey, Rags. It’s about time you got your ass here,” a tall man in leather and a full beard said, his eyes scanning over her.
“I had shit to do,” Rags replied.
“I bet,” another man chimed in, his gaze lingering on Casey.
She sucked in a breath, remembering how exposed a woman could feel surrounded by that much testosterone and machismo.
Rags, as if sensing her discomfort, squeezed her hand.
“I got a business, remember?” he said. “Unlike you lazy asses, I was out plowing snow since early this morning.”
“Yeah. Sure.” The bearded man grinned, shooting Casey a sideways glance.
She looked away and scanned the crowd: around twenty or so bikers, most in blue jeans and black leather jackets, and a handful of women in short skirts, micro mini dresses, or Daisy Dukes teetering on sky-high heels, their tops tight enough to leave little to the imagination.
Some wrapped their arms around themselves against the cold while, others were tucked into the sides of the men holding them.
The scene hit like déjà vu. It was a different town, a bigger clubhouse, but the players were the same. She leaned into Rags grounding herself.
“You okay, Case?” he murmured against her ear.
“Just cold.”
“Sorry, baby. Let’s go inside.”
Rags pulled open the door, and a wave of heat hit her followed by the thick mix of perfume, sweat, and weed.
The door shut behind them. Rags wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as they moved toward the bar.
Warmth spread through her as she leaned into him.
JT rarely paid her any attention at club parties, and never like this, never with his arm around her.
“What do you want to drink?” Rags asked, his breath warm against her skin.
“I’m good with a couple of shots of vodka. It’d be nice if there’s a twist of lime.”
He chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.” His hand wandered down to her ass and stayed there.
He’s telling the bikers I’m his and to back off. A cozy warmth settled in her chest, and for the first time since they arrived, she began to relax.
“Highway to Hell” by AC/DC vibrated the speakers as more members filtered into the clubhouse.
Casey took a sip of vodka, watching the men milling around with beers in hand, or deep in conversations about engines and chrome.
She knew that the bikers’ Harleys were their babies, and motorcycle talk came first, more important than booze or women at these gatherings.
Rags was talking to a group from a support club in Alina.
She caught that much from snippets of their conversation.
She shifted her attention back to the room, taking in the women in tight micro-mini dresses and short skirts, their ass cheeks peeking out, breasts spilling from tops that were too small.
A couple didn’t bother with tops at all, just stickers covering their nipples.
She leaned back against the barstool Rags had snagged from one of the guests for her and watched as a handful of women through the room like they owned it.
Club girls. She could always spot them. Their presence alone sent a clear message to the party girls and hoodrats that this was their turf, and crossing them meant consequences.
Casey had to admit that most of the club girls were young, pretty, and sexy.
One dark-haired woman scanned the room, her face lighting up when her gaze landed on Rags.
Casey’s stomach clenched as the realization hit.
These club girls, and probably plenty of the party girls and hoodrats, were the women Rags screwed.
And the way the dark-haired kept her eyes fixed on him told Casey she was probably one of his favorites.
Maybe he was even screwing her when he wasn’t with Casey.
She’d never know if he was fucking on the side.
Didn’t these outlaws think it was fine to screw whoever they wanted?
JT’s infidelity slammed into her thoughts.
She pressed her hands to her stomach. Stop it! Rags isn’t JT.
“You good, darlin’?” Rags’s voice cut through the spiral.
“Uh… yeah. Are you having a good time?” she asked.
“It kicks ass seeing so many people I haven’t seen in a long time.” Rags’s face lit up.
“That’s good. Is there any food around here? I bet you have ribs and barbecue everything,” she said.
He laughed, then brushed his lips over hers, one hand grazing the swell of her breast. “We got food coming. The club girls are bringing it out now.”
Casey glanced over and saw several women carrying large trays of steaming food, setting them on a table along the back wall.
“We usually put it on the back patio or out in the yard, but it’s too cold tonight.” Rags trailed his lips along the side of her neck. “You smell delicious, baby. I could just eat you up.”
Casey giggled and ran her fingers through his hair.
If any of the club girls was watching, especially the dark-haired one, she just marked her territory.
Rags pressed against her and kissed her like they were the only two in the room, like she was the only thing that mattered.
It was a messy, wonderful, frenzy of a kiss, full of heat and want.
“You want to get something to eat now?” he asked, pulling back, his lips still glistening from their kiss.
“Wow, what was that?” She smiled as her fingers brushed over his T-shirt.
“Total connection, babe.” He tweaked her nose.
Before she could respond, a good-looking man with broad shoulders, shaggy hair, and a barbed-wire silver earring dangling from his lobe clapped Rags on the shoulder.
“Hey, dude. It’s been too long,” he said, his green eyes flicking to Casey for a split second.
“Eagle! When did you get in?” Rags pulled him into a bear hug.
Casey smiled, then looked toward the door as a gust of cold air swept in. Several bikers stomped inside, bumping shoulders, laughing and razzing each other. Her gaze drifted over them without much thought. Then stalled. Her breath caught.
It can’t be. Smoke curled through the dim light, making everything hazy, giving her just enough doubt to question what she was seeing.
No. It wasn’t want she thought. It couldn’t be.
What would be the odds of that? She threw back the rest of the vodka, her fingers tightening around the glass as one of the bikers shifted, the light catching the sharp line of his jaw, the familiar breadth of his shoulders.
“Hell yeah,” Rags said, dragging her attention back to him. “Didn’t think he’d make it.”
“He rode up with us,” Eagle said. “It was great until we hit that snowstorm, but we’re here and ready to have a great, pussy-loving time.”
Rags laughed and shouted, “Over here!”
Casey followed his line of sight and the glass nearly slipped from her fingers. JT. He was headed straight toward them.
“Saber! Get your ass over here,” Rags bellowed.
“Dude!”
Casey shifted, turning her back to the room. What the hell is he doing here? And Rags knows him? Images from the past slammed into the present, ricocheting through her mind.
“Eagle said you guys just got here.”
Rags’s voice washed over her, distant.
“We did. Got caught in that shitstorm.”
JT’s familiar timbre twisted something deep in her gut.
“Who’s the babe?” JT asked.
“Hands off. She’s my woman,” Rags said.
His hand on her shoulder burned through her. Maybe if I lean in, tell Rags I’m sick, that I need to go to his room, then maybe I can avoid this.
“Your woman? This I gotta see. Does she have a name and a face?”
“Darlin’, I want you to meet a good friend of mine,” Rags said against her ear.
No. This can’t be happening.
“Baby?” he murmured. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” she croaked, slowly turning around.
“This is Saber.”