LOKI

Pyro and I pull up to the clubhouse and my mind is consumed with the little blonde girl with curly hair at Skit’s house. Something about her looks ridiculously familiar and all I want to do is drink it away. Who knows? Maybe fuck it away, too.

Pyro is in a mood when we step inside.

“What’s your beef?” I ask him.

He shakes his head and doesn’t answer me.

“What the fuck, man?” I growl at him and he turns on me, getting in my face.

“Are you so fucking stupid or just blind?”

I shove him off me. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I snap and my eyes narrow at him.

“Pyro, Loki, get in here,” Rooster snaps from down the hall interrupting us and whatever scuff we’re about to get into.

“This isn’t over,” I tell Pyro as we both walk down the hall toward Rooster’s office.

“Need you guys to ride,” Rooster says as we enter his shitty office. He doesn’t bother to clean up after himself, ever. “I don’t give a damn what your beef with each other is, get the fuck over it,” he snaps.

“Where we goin’?” Pyro asks.

“Boulder.”

My heart sinks into my stomach and Pyro glares at me through narrowed eyes.

We finished our business with Rooster and returned to the clubhouse common room. We’re taking off early tomorrow morning. Sticks wants us in Boulder by tomorrow night. According to Rooster, something’s going down up there and Sticks needs some muscle, which usually comes from Arizona, but they’re having their annual ride this week and can’t spare anyone.

I had to fight rolling my eyes during our meeting. I know it’s all bullshit. Sticks needs us in Boulder for other reasons, but they’re using it as cover for what’s really going down.

We were in the front of the clubhouse all of fifteen minutes before Pyro disappears to stuff his dick into Taffy. He knows as well as I do that the Boulder girls aren’t the best, so he’s gonna get his while he can.

Taz comes down the stairs looking freshly fucked and she smiles at me in invitation, but I shake my head. I have other ideas. The prospect behind the car slides me another whiskey and I slam it back before leaving out the front door of the clubhouse.

I should go home, do some laundry or some bullshit like that, but instead, my bike heads opposite my house and before I know it, I’m pulling up in front of Iron Wings. I didn’t consciously decide to come here, but apparently, I need to be here.

I climb off my bike and head for the door.

The Angels have prospects here too, watching over bikes and the doors. Anyone who’s not MC has to pay a cover to get in so I bypass the line and instead of a prospect, I see Rack standing at the door. He nods as he lets me inside and the place is packed. Every seat full except for one of the two tables Wicked usually occupies, so I head there. My eyes roaming around the room until I find her.

My heart stops in my chest as I take in her backside.

She’s not wearing a bra and some backless number, showing off her ink. I’d seen it last night but was too drunk to really look at it. Though I can’t fully see it from here, it’s glowing slightly under some of the black lights of the bar. But that’s not the only thing I see glowing. On her left shoulder, she has something else tattooed, but I’d not noticed it the night before and now I understand why. It’s been done in white. Nearly invisible, unless you’re looking for it or standing under black lights.

My eyes roam down to the small of her back, graciously free of ink. The first thought that comes to mind is how great my ink would look dipping into the crack of her ass. I shake my head. Where in the fuck did that come from?

She turns back around, headed for the bar, and her eyes immediately land on mine. In the light, she looks younger, years younger, and a memory slides into place that won’t leave as I remember the soft features of the one I drove away all those years ago.

I try and shake it off as I head to the table and grab a seat. The only reason I’m thinking about her is because I’m headed back to Boulder for the first time in six years. My cock hardens at the prospect of seeing her again. Will she want to see me? Is she still there?

I shudder and ignore my thoughts. It’s fucking ridiculous that I would want to see her again. She’s ancient history.

Skit dutifully comes over, leaning on the table like she did last night. Her left shoulder is closest to me and I’m disappointed at the lack of black light over my table. I want to see her tattoo. “Back for more?” she asks. Her tone a little harsher, more pissed off, and I like it. My cock stirs in my jeans.

“The same,” I tell her, narrowing my eyes at her.

“Where’s your friend?” she asks referring to Pyro.

I lean forward. “Why? You interested in a tag team?”

“You couldn’t handle this last night. What makes you think the two of you can handle it?” There’s a wicked smirk playing at her lips.

“Oh, trust me, sugar tits, we could take you.”

“Sure, you can.” She wiggles her eyebrows in invitation before she saunters off toward the bar. I debate briefly on texting P, asking him to come help me put her in her place.

The ass chewing he gave me earlier about taking her home sends ice through my veins and I keep my phone tucked away.

The night progresses and I take it much slower on the whiskey so that I can get my own ass home tonight. Besides, riding hungover isn’t good for anyone.

Around eleven the bar starts dying down, earlier than normal, so I take the cue and leave. I don’t see Skit before I go and I’m disappointed. I wanted to see her one more time before I bail. I won’t be back ‘til early next week.

Pussy ass.

I roll my eyes at myself before leaving through the front door. Rack is still there and I nod to him before climbing on my bike and taking off for home.