Chapter Two
“I want to see the world.”
Kira half listened to her coworker rambling as they took out the trash. It was amazing how much garbage one diner could make.
“London, Paris, Rome. I would kill to explore those cities. I’ve only been here in Cheyenne a short time, but I already know I’m way bigger than this place. I mean, where’s the glam?”
In the two weeks Christine had worked at the diner, Kira determined the young girl had unrealistic dreams and expectations.
Working in a diner in Cheyenne, Wyoming, would never allow her to save enough money to fulfill those dreams, but Kira wasn’t going to be the one to burst her bubble.
At least one of them still had hopes and aspirations.
“Hey, who are they?”
Kira glanced to where Christine pointed, and counted four motorcycles. The yellowing halo from an old streetlight allowed just enough illumination to show off the leather cuts, and highlighted the emblem on the back of one man.
“Sons of Sin,” she replied. “Stay away from them. Bad news.”
“I never thought I’d see an honest-to-God motorcycle gang here.”
“Club,” Kira automatically corrected. “Not gang.”
Christine waved it away like it didn’t matter, and maybe it didn’t. Wasn’t like she needed to know the correct terminology.
“I know it was like a gazillion years ago, and he’s, like, old, but I had a huge crush on Charlie Hunnam once upon a time and I watched one episode of that show he was in so I know a lot about motorcycle gangs,” Christine declared proudly.
She droned on about that actor, barely stopping to catch a breath, so Kira ended up tuning the young girl out.
Especially since four more bikes joined the Sons, and she tried to figure out what was going on.
The danger was palpable and she wondered if she should warn the diner’s manager.
Just then, gunshots rang out. Both women stood frozen for a second longer than they should have, until Kira yanked Christine down behind the safety of the dumpster.
From their position, they had a prime view of the shoot-out.
Men scattered as some tried to shoot back, but it was clear none of them knew from where they were being attacked.
Then a lone figure in black moved from the shadows and grabbed something off the ground.
The item was tossed into the center of stacked tires near the junkyard fence and then the person disappeared.
The whole thing was suspicious and raised the hairs off the back of her neck. She tugged on Christine’s arm.
“Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s get back inside. It’s too dangerous out here right now.”
Christine was practically comatose, so Kira yanked her along. When they stepped back into the diner, the girl’s face was leached of color.
“My life flashed before my eyes,” she said, her voice warbling. “Oh my God, Kira. I could’ve died!”
It didn’t go unnoticed that she said me, not we. Christine was a little self-centered.
“I will kill both of you dead if you don’t get back to work,” their boss, Joe, called out from across the kitchen.
The two women nodded and hurried to wash their hands in the large basin sink.
“Just forget what you saw,” Kira whispered to her.
“What about the cops?”
“If—and that’s a big if—the cops come out this way, you better keep your mouth shut. They’d gloss over anything the Sons did, and then tell them you’re squealing.”
“What do you think was thrown in the tires?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. You should do the same.”
Christine’s brow furrowed. “Look, I know you’re old and shit, but don’t boss me around.”
She finished rinsing off her hands and yanked a few paper towels to dry up. Kira smarted from the age slur. Twenty-nine wasn’t old. Although knowing she spent years behind the diner’s walls didn’t help her self-esteem at all.
They got back to the monotonous work Kira craved.
She smiled at the right time at the right people, collecting tips and serving coffee.
Christine gave her the cold shoulder, not that she really cared.
She didn’t do friendships. However, there was a period of time when Christine disappeared, and Kira had to take care of her booths as well as her own.
It pissed her off but she bottled that up inside.
She’d learned long ago not to argue back.
Midnight lingered close by, and she couldn’t wait for her shift to end so she could get the hell away from the night’s activities.
As if that wasn’t enough to deal with, the bell over the door jingled and Kira watched in resigned dread as a big biker walked through the door. Of course, because why not? The universe liked shitting on her. He made a beeline to the counter and slid onto a stool. Great. He was in her section.
Trying to steady her racing heart, Kira approached.
“Welcome,” she greeted. “What can I get you?”
He glanced up at her, and she stared into azure eyes that reminded her of aquamarine sea glass.
Eyes that seemed to stare into her soul.
Dirty blond hair was shorn on the sides but flopped on top, giving him a windblown appearance.
His chiseled face belonged on an angel, not a dangerous one-percenter.
He smiled, showing off his gorgeous dimples, because someone upstairs hates her.
Who did she piss off in a previous life?
They really liked making her life harder to deal with.
“Well, hello there,” he greeted. His gaze skimmed the badge with her name on it. “Kira. What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
He certainly was full of flirtatious charm.
“What can I get you?” she asked again, keeping her voice even. Not too sharp to offend and not too friendly as to encourage more attention.
“What about your phone number?”
She blinked, reminding herself not to take the bait, but it was like her brain wasn’t paying attention to its own thoughts. “Does that line usually work?”
He didn’t even seem bothered by her calling him out. In fact, he chuckled.
“Believe it or not, yes.”
“And do you call them?”
“Sometimes,” he said with an easy shrug. “I take it that’s a no on the phone number?”
“You would be correct.”
“Well, at least I tried. Let me make one more argument in order to convince you I’m a stand-up guy and you should go on a date with me.”
Stand-up guy? Sure, and she highly doubted he really meant date. Men like him just wanted an easy fuck, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious. “Which would be...”
“We could have a magical evening together,” he continued, pitching his voice low to make him sound romantic. “Romance under the moon. Dancing to the symphony of the night. Making passionate love on a carpet of grass.”
She was impressed. “Wow. Are you a romance writer?”
He leaned closer. “I read them to know what women want.”
“Oh,” she replied, squashing down the thrill that sent a pulse directly to her pussy. No way. Not now. Not ever again. “As of right now, the only thing I want is to know what item on the menu you’d like to order.”
Surprise dawned in his cerulean eyes. “A tough nut to crack, I see. Just a coffee, please. Lots of cream and two sugars.”
Nodding that she understood, she hurried to the coffee counter and fixed his cup just as he requested. When she served him, he laid down a twenty.
“I’ll get you change.”
“Not necessary,” he said. “I had excellent service.”
She couldn’t hold it back and grinned at his ridiculousness.
“Ah, there it is.”
“There’s what?”
“Your breathtaking smile.”
She ignored how that sent a happy little jolt through her body and immediately stopped smiling. “Anything else?”
“Just one. Did you happen to hear or see what went down at the gas station? Or maybe someone else here might have?”
This time, her heart sped up with fear. “No, I didn’t. What happened?”
The man searched her face, the jovial nature leaving his own. “My friends and I lost something. I’m trying to find it.”
He was looking for the duffel bag, but she would never in a thousand years confess what she’d seen. He’d probably end up killing her because she’d seen too much. Men were very good schemers.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said evenly. Proud of herself for not showing an emotional reaction to his words. “And I don’t think anyone else probably did either since the gas station is behind the diner.”
A couple of seconds later, after he thoroughly studied her face, he smiled and that charm flared back to life. He pointed to his club patch on the left side of his leather cut.
“If you remember anything, you know where to find me.” He stood up. “My name is Sinn, by the way.”
“Well, that’s certainly apropos to your club.”
He studied her once more, and then turned, as if leaving.
“What about your coffee?” she asked.
“I never did like the stuff.” He winked, and was gone.
Kira knew she had to get back to work, but she needed a moment to steady her nerves, although she didn’t know if it was because the diner was now on the Sons of Sin radar, or from her attraction to him.
Regardless, she picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip.
He paid for it, so might as well not let it go to waste.
The night server arrived and Kira waved goodbye. The diner was open twenty-four-seven, but the crowd after midnight was mostly truckers, which meant it was usually slow. She clocked out and then Christine popped up behind her, holding a black duffel bag.
“Where’ve you been?” she asked, more than a little annoyed.
“Guess what was in the tires?” Christine whispered, glancing around as if anyone would care.
“You went over there?”
“I stayed hidden,” Christine defended. She leaned closer. “Money. Lots and lots of money. I can flee this dump of a town and go to Europe.”
“What?”
“Yep! I’m so excited I’m about to pee my pants. Hold this.”