Brought back memories.
It felt strange sometimes, knowing so much about the MC world without being part of it. I’d grown up in motorcycle clubs, plural. Mom was always moving, right up to the day she met Teeny. When I was little, I’d loved the big, loud machines that ran fast. Now hearing them was like Russian roulette—sometimes they brought bad memories, sometimes they made me feel protected. I used to dream about Teeny every night, Teeny and the men he’d given me to. I didn’t anymore, thank God. At least not often. Much as I hated to admit it, the Silver Bastards had created my safe zone. They were close, they scared Teeny, and they would protect me.
How’s that for fucked up?
“You like the new job?” Boonie asked me, as if none of this was bizarre and uncomfortable. Hell, maybe it wasn’t for him. “Get in any fights yet? You handled yourself well yesterday morning. I was impressed.”
“Um, thanks. It’s fine so far,” I said, edging closer to Joe. He threw a casual arm over my shoulders and I could’ve kissed him. Clearly he wasn’t afraid of the Bastards—a definite point in his favor. Boonie snorted, obviously seeing right through me and finding it entertaining.
Puck seemed less entertained . . . If he’d been menacing before, now he’d moved back into full predator mode. My stupid body thought that was sexy as hell.
After what had to be the longest walk in history, we reached the wide half flight of stairs leading up to the bar’s front porch. It was a double-decker, and once upon a time there’d been a hotel upstairs. Well, either a hotel or a brothel—the answer depended on who you asked. The door opened and bright light hit us. Then I was inside. Joe gave me one last squeeze, then let me go. I turned toward the bar and nearly ran into Puck, who was standing way, way too close.
“Careful,” he said.
Danielle—God, I loved that woman—came over and grabbed my arm, jerking me away from the men toward the service bar.
“Those academy fuckers are a pain in my ass,” she hissed, oblivious to my drama. (That’s how good a friend she was—she actually sensed my problems and fixed them without conscious effort.) “Blake wants to kill them, but I’m holding him back. D’you think you can take them over for a few before I lose my shit?”
“Sure,” I said, ducking behind the bar to snag my apron.
“You good?” Joe asked, grabbing a stool. Not ten feet behind him was Puck, watching us with narrowed eyes, arms crossed over his muscular chest. I had a sudden urge to grab Joe’s shirt, pull him down, and kiss him hard. Just to piss off Puck. Real classy there, Becca. I forced myself to give Joe all my attention, ignoring the grumpy biker glaring at us.
“Sorry,” I said, and he cocked his head.
“For what?”
“For being fucked up,” I answered, ducking my head. He reached forward and chucked me under the chin, grinning.
“Well, as your friend, I’m sure I’ll learn to live with it,” he said. “You know, this is good in a way.”
“How’s that?”
“Now I can burp and fart around you.”
I wrinkled my nose and Joe laughed. “Should get back home. I have to be up early.”
“Take care,” I told him.
“You, too.”
Joe winked at me, then turned and walked out the door. Puck still stood there, watching it all, and the darkness in his expression made me shiver.
It wasn’t a shiver of fear.
PUCK
“You’re pathetic,” Boonie declared, smirking at me. We’d taken one of the high tables in the back of the Moose, which made it easy to keep an eye on the whole place. Collins was gone. Good thing, too. When he’d put his arm around Becca my blood pressure exploded. Found myself fingering the gun in my pocket. Boonie seemed to think this was funny, the cocksucker. “You want her, take her.”
“Yeah, ’cause it’s that simple.”
He snorted, exchanging looks with Deep and Demon. Deep shrugged.
“If you’re a real man, you’ll do what needs to be done,” he muttered, reaching for his beer.
“Sort of like what you’re doing with Carlie?” I asked him, raising a brow. “Couldn’t help but notice whose bed she wasn’t in last night.”
Deep’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, but Demon elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. The two were Irish twins—born ten months apart—and I’d never seen brothers who enjoyed fighting with each other more.
“He’s right,” Demon said. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth.”
“This is nice,” Boonie announced. “We should do this more often, don’t you think?”
Ignoring him, I settled back on my stool and surveyed the room. We sat in Becca’s section, and what I saw wasn’t making me happy. I knew she was a good waitress, but she’d just started here and it showed. Not only had she fucked up several orders, she didn’t quite seem to get the rhythm of the bar. That wasn’t my problem, though.
My problem was that despite these fuckups, nobody seemed to mind. I had a nasty suspicion this was due to her perky tits, friendly smile, and tight little ass that seriously just needed a bite taken right out of it.
She really, really needed to get a new job—every man in the place wanted her. Including me. Especially me. I hated them. All of them. I shifted uncomfortably, because just like every time I shared a room with her, my pants had gotten tight.
Torture. Becca was just so fucking fine on every level, and not just her looks. There was something about the way she carried herself . . . I couldn’t put my finger on it. Like she was dancing through life to some song nobody else could hear. Never met another woman like her—she wasn’t just sexy, she was a survivor and I admired that.