HANNAH
What the fuck was I thinking!? Brandon Knox was nothing but trouble, and I’d let him spend the night in my bed. He wasn’t the first guy Carter threw my way to “entertain,” but none of them had made it out of the bathroom before I had their clothes in hand and the door open for their exit. At the time, I just chalked it up to exhaustion. Spending ten hours on my feet working the bar had taken its toll. But if I were going to be honest with myself, I would have to admit I didn’t want that man to leave.
He’d been so in control, so dominating. I couldn’t stop myself from obeying all of his commands. What started out as a quick fuck to work off some of my debt turned into something else entirely before he was through with me. His eyes. I’d never seen such a dark shade of blue before, and when he put them on me, I thought my skin was going to burst into flames.
I can’t say his cockiness was unlike other bikers, but it was deeper. He wasn't covering up for some inadequacy or trying to be a showoff. He took possession of the room when he entered it, my room included. I had no chance once he’d stepped into my bedroom.
And that kiss. I needed to forget that kiss. It was dangerous to think about something that felt so intimate, so real. I need to focus on my plan. I needed to figure out a way to get a second job, one Carter didn’t control. Between my earnings at the club and my own job, I could pay him off even faster. So I probably wouldn’t sleep for the next few months; I could sleep after. In my own bed. In my own apartment where men didn’t pound down my door after having too much beer and didn’t have enough cash in their pocket to stumble over to the whorehouse next door.
Carter didn’t often grant the members permission to bother me. He preferred that I serviced him alone, but if they had enough cash, or were willing to serve up a favor in exchange, he’d allow it. Or if I’d pissed him off. The days I got smart with him, or looked at him the wrong way, I was sure to have some nasty drunk biker at my bedroom door.
Brandon wanted to know why I didn’t just leave. Like that was really an option. Lisa had tried that, tried walking away. She got all the way to her old apartment. The newspaper boy found her body in the street the following morning. Two shots to her head, but that’s probably not what killed her. The severe beating she took first most likely did her in; the bullets were just insurance. Soldier men weren’t used to being walked out on, not by anyone–least of all their women.
“Hi, can I help you?” An older woman with graying hair, smiled at me from behind the counter. My second goal of the day was to get information about enrolling in the nursing program at the junior college in town. After I had freed myself from the MC, I needed a career, not just a job to pay bills, but something I could be proud of.
“Yeah, I’m interested in the nursing program.” I looked at my phone, an hour before I needed to be back at the club or Carter would start asking questions.
I was given half a dozen pamphlets and sent down to the financial office to fill out applications for grants and stuff. Once all of that crap was done, I headed back to the clubhouse. I needed a car; my feet were killing me from all the walking and I couldn’t justify spending the money on taking the bus when I needed to save every penny I could..
I heard the roar of the motorcycles headed toward me, as I turned down the last street to the clubhouse. Three of them in Satan’s Riders kuttes. I recognized Brandon right away; he lead the small pack headed in my direction. I tried to ignore him, pretend I didn't see him. The tilt of his head, and the shit-eating grin on his face told me he’d seen me. I tried to roll my eyes, but he’d already passed me and I forced myself to keep walking and not look back. Martin met me at the gate.
“You know that’s trouble, right?” He asked when I walked up to him.
“What are you talking about?” I grumbled, zipping my bag to keep anyone from seeing the pamphlets inside.
“Brandon Knox lives and breathes Satan’s Riders; if Carter gets even a whiff that you two are anything more than nothing, he’ll have something to say about it.” Martin nodded for Spice, the newest recruit, to lock down the gate as we walked toward the clubhouse.
“He is nothing.” I tried to assure him, but he must have seen the blush on my cheeks. “Nothing, Martin.” I walked faster, needing to get away from him. I trusted Martin; he’d protected my ass more times than I could count, but he was a Soldier. And in the end, that’s what mattered.