Soul (Twisted Kings MC #6)

1. Soul

Soul

New Years Eve

Nothing says home like a shot of whiskey, a haze of smoke, and slot machines ringing all around.

Las Vegas isn’t for everyone. It’s the city of sin. Overcrowded and loud. There’s a reason people come here to celebrate and let loose. To forget their boring lives and hope nothing too permanent sticks with them when they leave.

But to me, Vegas is home.

“Royal flush.” I grin, laying my cards on the table.

“Fuck off,” Chaos grumbles, taking a sip of his beer.

We shove off our stools, and I offer a final wink to the pretty dealer we’ve been flirting with for the past thirty minutes.

Her blonde hair is pulled in a neat bun I’d like to unravel, and her uniform molds to her every curve.

I’ve debated asking her what time she gets off work.

Especially when she pulls her lower lip between her teeth and looks me over. Only, something holds me back.

Usually, nothing stops me from going after what I want. But this past week, something has been off.

In the air.

In the universe.

Something doesn’t feel right, and it’s got me on edge.

My brothers give me shit about it every time I bring it up. Bikers aren’t known for worrying about misfortune or fate. We make our own.

After all, we’re Twisted Kings, members of the most feared MC on the West Coast. As the club’s vice president of the Las Vegas chapter, I shouldn’t be letting something like recurring nightmares and an indefinable gut feeling get to me.

But it’s been settling in my bones this past week.

Something is brewing. I’ve been waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night like the universe wants to tell me something.

I don’t know what’s about to go down; I just know that something will soon.

Chaos and I wander the casino floor until he stops at a bar to flirt with the tattooed redhead serving drinks.

New Year’s is the worst night for us to be roaming downtown.

There are too many people, and with most of the guys back at the clubhouse celebrating, we don’t have enough coverage watching our backs if shit goes south.

Maybe we should have stayed home like everyone else. But I’ve been fucking restless and needing to get out. Thankfully, Chaos and Venom felt the same.

Where is Venom, anyway?

I scan the room, but he’s nowhere in sight. He went to grab a shot when we sat down to gamble and has yet to come back.

“He’s chatting up some chick by the slot machines.” Chaos tips a beer to the other end of the casino floor before handing it to me, reading my mind.

Sure enough, Venom is flashing a smile to some pretty little thing in fishnets.

Judging by the hearts in her eyes when she looks him over, she must be from out of town.

Locals see the patches on our cuts and know to keep their distance, but tourists don’t realize the things they should fear.

They come to town looking for an excuse to let loose for the weekend and figure a biker will know how to give them a good time before they return to their cookie-cutter lives.

If I gave a shit, I might feel like they’re using us, but no attachments are what I prefer.

It’s smart. It’s safe.

It keeps shit simple. At least, when it comes to women.

Being in an MC is a shitload of fun, but just as much trouble. I’ve seen it play out plenty over the years. One second, I could be having the time of my life, drinking and smoking and fucking, and the next, I could take a bullet to the back of the head.

Lights out.

I sip on my beer. It’s cool on my throat but does nothing to settle what’s stirring in my chest.

“You see something?” Chaos asks when my gaze moves around the room.

“Nah, just keeping my eyes open.” I take another sip.

“You need to get laid, brother. And I never have to say that shit to you. What’s your deal this week?” His eyes narrow, and I hate that out of all the guys in the club, there’s no bullshitting Chaos.

He can see straight through me.

“All this shit with you know who is getting on my fucking nerves.” I take another sip of my beer, careful not to mention Rick Zane’s name, even if we aren’t in one of his casinos.

Like us, he has eyes and ears all over this city. I don’t doubt he’s well aware there are Twisted Kings roaming the Strip tonight.

Rick Zane owns half of Vegas. His name is plastered on the tallest casino on the Strip like a beacon, reminding us we’ve yet to rid our city of the scumbag. On the outside, he’s an upstanding citizen, but his casinos are just one of the ways he makes his money.

While the Twisted Kings toe the moral line on occasion, we limit our illegal activities to weed and guns. We might do some shady shit, but we don’t trade in flesh like Zane. If anything, we’ve been trying to put an end to the sex trafficking that’s cropped up in our city since he showed up.

But he’s like a fucking serpent. Cut off one head, and another one grows.

His organization is endless, and his reach knows no bounds.

He has the city council in his back pocket, and the cops do his bidding.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, when we took down the Iron Sinners, the MC who used to help do his dirty work, he put the Feds on our tail.

We can’t make a move lately without all eyes on the club.

I’m looking forward to the day I get my hands on Rick Zane. I’ve had years to plan his long, unpleasant reckoning, and I’m going to enjoy taking him apart piece by piece when I get my chance.

Cheering begins as waitresses flood the casino floor, carrying trays of champagne flutes.

“Is it already midnight?”

Chaos pulls out his phone and taps the screen. “Damn close. Eleven fifty.”

A pretty waitress with curly black hair stops in front of us, offering champagne. That shit does nothing but give me a headache, so I stick to my beer.

“Thanks, honey.” Chaos takes a glass, winking at her.

His eyes drop to her ass as she walks off.

“You hate that shit.” I chuckle when he sets the glass on the bar instead of drinking it.

“Just being polite.” He grins.

I shake my head, about to point out that he’s never polite, when a flash of pink in the crowd catches my attention. My beer bottle pauses at my lips as a group of rowdy assholes parts, and a girl in an itty-bitty pink dress comes into view.

Fuck.

Her dress might as well be painted on her skin with how it hugs every delicious inch of her curves. The hem is an inch away from revealing her ass if she bends over, and a deep V in the front perfectly frames her tits. But it’s her eyes I can’t escape.

So pale and sharp, they cut through the room. Darting around with a mix of hesitation and curiosity, like she’s never stepped foot in a casino until now.

Her brown hair hangs in thick waves halfway down her chest. The darkness of the strands highlights the brightness of her eyes even more.

She’s fucking beautiful, and totally out of place.

While her outfit and thick makeup are a mask that helps her blend in, her eyes give her away. She looks around. In awe and terror as she spots a couple getting handsy near the slot machines.

If she thinks this is bad, I wonder what she’d think of the clubhouse.

Patch bunnies walking around topless.

Brothers fucking in random corners.

Good girls who are easily shocked don’t usually interest me because they expect me to be something I’m not. But this girl, with her doe eyes and her thick eyelashes that flutter with every sweep of the room, has me wondering how else I could shock her.

“You calling dibs?” Chaos tips his chin at the girl in the pink dress.

I lift my beer to my lips, flipping him off as I do and taking a sip. But the liquid does nothing to cool this fire she’s spreading through me the longer I watch her.

He huffs out a laugh as she weaves through people. “That’s an awfully tight dress for a lost little lamb.”

Her gaze falls over her shoulder, where, at a distance, three guys have their eyes on her.

They knock each other’s shoulders when they spot her, and it doesn’t take much to guess what they’re thinking.

From the way she found them easily in the crowd, I guess they must have been following her for a while.

“She’s drawing the attention of assholes.” I tilt my chin, and Chaos follows my gaze to the group of guys tracking her.

I want to tear out their spinal cords and strangle them with them for daring to look at her. A fucking angel in a city of sin. And when her eyes meet mine, I swear I see the only glimpse of heaven I’ll ever get.

The girl in the pink dress swallows, her throat working. For a second, there’s a flash of interest in her eyes. She sweeps over me, rolling her shoulders back. Hesitation melts away, confidence taking its place as she walks straight toward me.

Why is that so fucking hot?

“Incoming.” I take another sip of my beer, pretending I don’t give a shit that this girl hasn’t taken her eyes off me.

It’s not like I don’t know my way around a woman. I’ve got more experience than she’d probably want to know about. Still, something about this chick has me on edge. Anxious even. What I wouldn’t give to know what she’s thinking.

“Hey.” She pauses a couple of feet away, shifting on her feet.

Up close, I realize just how small she is. At least a foot shorter than me—forced to crane her neck back to meet my gaze. Those pale-blue eyes fix on mine, a contrast to her dark freckles. She’s innocent but brave.

“Random question…” She nibbles her lower lip, twisting her hands in front of her.

“Shoot.” I rest my elbows back on the bar, and her gaze drifts over me.

This T-shirt is a little tighter than I usually wear, and I like that she appreciates it. But her eyes pause on my cut with a second of hesitation. She doesn’t look like the kind of girl who knows what a motorcycle club is, but I don’t doubt she knows a biker when she sees one.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Of all the things she could have asked, that’s not what I was expecting.

“No.” My eyebrows furrow.

“Married?”

Chaos bursts out laughing, and I shove his shoulder.

“Not married. Why?”