Chapter 3
MARIETTA
Holy shit, I propositioned Merrick. Maybe his whole club. I’ll do anything if it gets me closer to him. I meant what I said on that sign in Hookup Heaven.
I’m over being innocent Marietta, too naive and shy to ask for what she wants.
But now that the words are out, fear washes over me like a car splashed a puddle in a giant, cresting wave.
Merrick is so close. In fact, I think I can feel something between us.
Did I give him a hard on?
Oh my God!
I think I did!
I’m terrified to look up into his face. What will I see there? Interest?
Or did I go too far?
I’m trying to inch my chin up when someone grabs my arm and spins me toward him.
The room is a blur for a moment, and then I’m flush up against Chain.
His gray hair is roped into two braids coming out of his black leather skullcap. “Baby girl, you can be a club bunny for the Wild Hair starting right now.”
There’s a general whoop from other members.
My heart beats so hard that it’s throttling my throat. I suck in a breath. I should have known the other members would jump in. That’s the whole point of a bunny.
But then I’m pulled away. I’m hoping it’s Merrick, but I get a hefty sniff of something acrid, and I know it’s not.
Another man in a Wild Hair cut drags me toward him. He’s bear-sized, and even as tall as I am, I barely reach his chest. “Chain, you’re too damn old to break in this bunny. I’m going to take her.”
“I saw her first, Hoss,” Chain says, dragging me back. “Low Joe and I spotted her months ago and bought her a shot.”
Hoss pulls on me again. “We haven’t had a new bunny since I joined. If the prospect brought one in, I’m claiming her first. You can have the sloppy seconds.”
Hoss? Then Chain?
Oh God, God, God. What have I done?
Merrick steps forward. “She’s not going to be a club bunny. Back the fuck off.”
But he’s barely got the words out when Chain punches him straight in the jaw.
I duck out of the way and race across the room. I spot Diesel and dash straight for him.
He pulls me behind him, and Symphony wraps an arm around me as Merrick charges forward and tackles Chain.
“Should he do that?” Symphony asks, her voice shaking. “That man is really old, and Merrick could hurt him.”
“Fuck,” Diesel says. “My brother gets into some real shit these days.” He rushes toward the fight.
I duck my head. “I did it again.”
Symphony shushes me. “This is about them, not you. And look, Merrick is fighting for you. It’s what you wanted, right?”
Is it? Chain swings a chair at Merrick, but by then, Diesel is there and easily takes it from the old man.
But Hoss also wants in on the fight, and the oversized brute shoves Merrick so hard that he flies backward, landing on one of the tables with customers, sending drinks flying.
Diesel drops the chair, aiming to get between his brother and Hoss, when another huge, broad-shouldered man in a Wild Hair cut steps in front of Diesel. “This is club business.”
Diesel takes a step back.
Hoss approaches Merrick while he’s disentangling himself from the broken table. He punches Merrick right in the gut, then kicks him twice as Merrick scrambles to his feet.
It’s terrible to watch, but I’m afraid to look away. Despite what Merrick said about one percenters, will they kill him? What have I done?
When Merrick and Hoss face off again, the man who stopped Diesel holds out his hands and roars, “Enough.”
The bar goes quiet. Even the band quits playing.
The man turns to me. I suck in a breath. He’s muscled like nothing I’ve ever seen and wearing only his Wild Hair cut over a bare chest and black jeans.
“Come here,” he says.
Symphony stands in front of me, but a woman in a denim jacket that says “Property of the Wild Hair,” pulls her aside. “Go on, then,” she says to me. “When Iron Jack asks for you, you better go.”
I move forward with tremulous steps. As I get closer, I can read the patches on his chest. They read “President” and “Miami.”
So, he’s in charge.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“M-Marietta.”
“And you want to be a club bunny for the Wild Hair?”
I glance over at Merrick. “Maybe.”
“Do you know what that involves?”
“N-not exactly.”
Iron Jack’s hair is straw blond and almost touches his shoulders, but his resemblance to Jax on Sons of Anarchy ends there. His face is tough, his stance is unforgiving, and he looks like he could crush me with his bare hands.
He turns to Merrick. “Prospect, come here.”
Merrick looks ill at ease as he approaches, his glance shifting from Iron Jack to me and back again. “She’s not right for the club.”
Something rises in me, indignant. “I am, too!”
Iron Jack holds up a hand to shush me. “She’s open to becoming a club bunny. It’s not up to you.”
Merrick’s jaw tightens. I run through every MC romance I’ve ever read. Iron Jack could claim me. Merrick could claim me. Heck, even Chain or this other brute could do it, if they don’t already have an ol’ lady.
Or I could be a bunny. Merrick acted like I could choose who I was with, but the way these men are fighting suggests that they do the picking, not me.
But most everything I know is from books. They’re just stories. I’m not sure romance authors know much of anything about how real motorcycle clubs operate. And they could all be different. Merrick already made fun of me for comparing the Wild Hair to the show Sons of Anarchy.
Iron Jack motions for me to come closer.
I summon the courage I used when I danced on the bar. I lift my head and walk right up to him like I’m brave and not a terrified kitten.
He takes my chin and moves my face from side to side. “She’s pretty.” He lets go. “But not my type.”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around to face the three men who have been fighting over me. If I’ve got it right, it’s Merrick plus Hoss and Chain.
“She can be a club bunny, and she can come and go as she likes. Or we can make her a house mouse and put her up at the club until someone claims her. We could use another permanent woman to help out.”
“Hell yeah, we could,” Betz says. “I’m tired of doing all the cooking. Celia and Carol don’t do shit.”
Iron Jack listens to her and nods. “We aim to keep our ol’ ladies happy, and currently, we don’t have a house mouse.”
I wonder what a house mouse is.
“She’s in college,” Merrick says. “She shouldn’t live at the club.”
Iron Jack bends down to look at me. “That true?”
“I-I’m almost done with my coursework.”
He straightens to address the crowd. “She’s amenable to living with us.”
Living with them? “Would I belong to a-all of you?”
Iron Jack shakes his head. “As a house mouse, you have a place to stay and the protection of the club. We can take you to class.”
I peer up at him. Lord, he is big. “What’s the difference between a club bunny and a house mouse?”
“Club bunnies don’t live at the clubhouse. They come out to party and have fun with the members of their choosing. A house mouse works in the clubhouse. You live in the bunks. Nobody is allowed to touch you unless you get claimed.”
This was wild. “How long would I be a house mouse?”
“Until you decide to leave, become a club bunny, or become someone’s ol’ lady.”
I shift my gaze to Merrick. “How do you become an ol’ lady?”
“Someone claims you, and you agree. Like a marriage, whether you make it legal or not.”
Like a marriage.
Symphony rushes up to my side. “Marietta, this has been fun, but let’s go home. You need to think something like this over. It’s crazy.” She widens her eyes at Diesel. “Get us to the car. Now.”
But Diesel hesitates, looking at his brother.
Merrick looks at Iron Jack.
The hierarchy here is clear.
Oh, me and my big mouth.
Low Joe shoves his way through, holding the whiteboard from Hookup Heaven. “Iron Jack, you should see this.” He holds up the sign with my words on it. My face flames as everyone reads it out loud.
“Virgin in the house. Find me and fix it.”
Low Joe sets it on the floor. “This bunny and her friend were the only ones in there. One of them wrote it.”
A whoop goes up among the men. “This her?” Chain asks. “I stake my claim for her to be my ol’ lady!”
“Same,” Hoss says.
“I’ll throw my hat in,” says another, elbowing his way forward.
Iron Jack runs the back of his fingers over the pale stubble on his jaw. “Did you write this?” he asks me.
The blood drains from my face for the second time tonight. “Yes.”
He sighs. “Take this young lady home. We’ll hold a club meeting about it. We’ll let you know how it turns out.”
“This is ridiculous!” Symphony cries. “You can’t just take someone.”
“Diesel,” Iron Jack says, “silence your woman.”
But Diesel knows where his dick is buttered. He glares at Iron Jack. “I’m not a club member, and you’re not going to boss me around.” He cuts a glaring look at his brother. “Come on, Symphony, don’t worry. We’ll handle it.” He grabs her arm and then mine, and we head for the door.
Jenna and Bailey follow behind.
The band fires up again as we step outside.
“What happened?” Bailey asked.
“Your romance books just got real,” Jenna says.
I glance back at the bar as the door closes. Iron Jack, Merrick, Chain, Hoss, and the others are all sitting at a table, talking with serious expressions.
Oh, I’ve really done it this time.