The Lair was not what I expected. It was more like one of the campground resorts the club owned. At the end of the steep drive was what could only be described as a log cabin lodge in a cleared flat area on the top of the hill. A lit gravel pathway was off to one side, blending into the woods and circling back. A bunch of one-room camping cabins were visible from the path, each with a different name burned into the door. The lodge was two stories high, had a wraparound porch complete with several swings on the lower half, and a full deck on the upper. Behind the lodge was a huge deck surrounding a large in-ground pool now covered for the winter. Several storage buildings were off to the other side, as well as another building that was clearly a working garage. Tucked back further into the woods was more of the compound, but it was getting hard to see in the dark.

I rode with Molly to the Lair for two reasons. One, because parking was a problem, and two, because I didn’t think my car could have made it up the hill. As pretty as it was, the Lair was like a fortress. Hard to get to, and once the heavy gate was locked, it would render the compound impenetrable.

As I walked into the lodge, I realized my expectations were way off. I was thinking it would be full of torn-up mismatched furniture, sticky floors, stale cigarette smoke, and the like. Instead it was rustic, charming, and clean. Very clean for a live-in clubhouse.

Molly gave me a quick tour. The main front room was a catch-all that spanned both floors, the second floor appearing more as a landing loft with a private apartment on one side and private rooms on the other. One of those was the conference room where the club officers and their guests would hold their biker church meetings. The other apartment side was the private residence and bedrooms for Brick and Betsey. The main room had wooden frame couches with Native American printed cushions. Homemade rectangular coffee tables covered in permanent sweat rings from so many beer bottles and glasses sat in front of the couches. Several big flat-screen TVs were mounted on the walls around the massive room; one in the side extension that held a pool table and a foosball table, and another in the bar area in the other side extension. The bar was smaller than the one at the River’s Edge, but better stocked with higher-grade booze. There was a collection of neon beer lights glowing on the walls, and a couple of deer heads mounted. The one in the bar area sported a red cap, sunglasses, and had a cigarette dangling from its mouth.

A number of members were already at the Lair, hanging out, shooting pool, playing video games. Some of them I’d met briefly, others I did not know at all. Donna was there, as well as Nikki and a few other women I’d seen around the bar but hadn’t met. Everyone could be identified by either their cut, or lack of one. Those men not wearing a Dragon Runners cut were called hangarounds, and were hoping to prospect into the club. But just because you got a chance to attend a private party at the Lair didn’t mean you automatically got to prospect. That was by invitation only, and Brick was very particular about who he let into this inner sanctum. I felt out of place, like a fish trying to swim in desert sand. I could tell this would be a long night, and my best bet was to become invisible and stay that way.

Led Zeppelin was playing from a fancy set of surround-sound speakers mounted on the walls when I walked in. Brick met me, his red-and-gray hair pulled back in a short ponytail and his bushy russet beard bristling. He was a bear of a man, large with a slight gut. His real name was Jesse Davis, but his fellow bikers knew him as Brick, both for his red hair and for his hard line when it came to the club and club business. The tattoo on his forearm was of a snake vaguely resembling a dragon, with the classic American motto “Don’t Tread on Me.”

“Betsey called about the kids. I talked to Blue, and he’s on his way. The sheriff’s letting him go off duty to get home and take care of business with the kids, but he’s not gonna be here for a while. Thanks for covering. I owe you one.”

This was the longest sentence he’d ever said to me. I swallowed and tried to hide my nervousness.

“No problem, Brick, I’m glad to help,” I said as I took off my coat. “I’ll take stock of the bar and handle it as best as I can.”

Molly piped up, “I got a couple hours until I have to sit duty at the station. I’ll help out until then and keep her sorted. The other old ladies here will pitch in as needed. We’ll be fine. You get church started. The quicker that’s done, the faster you can get to your grandkids.”

Brick nodded and placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. “You let me know if someone bothers you.”

He left, tromping up the wooden L-shaped staircase to the loft area and the conference room. Taz, Stud, and Mute followed, along with the other members. The few bikers that were left immediately made a beeline for the bar.

For the next few hours, I was pouring beer and shots like crazy. I was amazed at the amount of booze they could drink. I mixed a few pitchers of margaritas, and those got sucked down almost as fast. The bikers that were not involved in the church meeting were loud, cussing hard and feeling up any woman who did not have on a “property of” vest. I saw Nikki in the corner making out with two men, one with his tongue down her throat and the other with his hand under her short skirt. Donna was straddling a thin, brown-haired biker, holding a shot glass between her breasts. He took it with his mouth, pulled it out, and tossed it back. She squealed and gyrated on his lap.

“Is it always like this?” I asked Molly. She was sitting at the bar along with Tambre, both of them there to offer me some protection from the horny bikers.

Molly took a swig of her Diet Coke. She was on duty later and couldn’t drink. “No, it’s not. See those guys over there at the PlayStation? Their cuts are a little different. Same club, but different chapter. They are on the Tennessee side. The ones shooting pool are from the West Virginia chapter. Something’s been going on for a while, both here and at the other end of the Tail. Got a lot of meth that’s being run through here, and more than once, someone claimed they saw bikers with Dragon Runner cuts involved in drug exchanges. Brick thinks someone is making counterfeit cuts to implicate the club. That’s why this church meeting is happening. Brick invited the other chapter presidents here for a sit-down. The club has been clean for a long time now, but there are still some out there who don’t like the change and want to go back to what it was when Jesse Jr. was running it.”

Tambre hissed. “Molly, that’s club business! You’re not supposed to know or share!”

Molly hissed right back, “I work at the sheriff’s office, Tam, how’m I not supposed to know? Any woman in this club needs to know something, if not for safety, but at least to be able to tell a real Dragon Runner from a fake one.”

Tambre went silent and sucked down more of the margarita I’d made for her.

The night kept going, and the party atmosphere died down a bit. Tambre could only stay until ten when she had to go sit with her grandkids and Molly left around eleven to get to work. The church meeting had started around nine, and it was closing in on midnight. Everyone seemed occupied, either with video games, pool, darts, or making out with one of the club women. I’d seen several of them disappear from time to time, going to the back bedrooms. The sounds of fast pounding sex could be heard; Nikki was particularly loud.

No one had bothered me yet, and I hoped it stayed that way. One of the young club prospects had come down once from the conference room to take a tray of beers and shots to the meeting members, but no one else had come down. I had my invisibility on, and chanced coming out from behind the bar to gather up the empty shot glasses and beer mugs. Most of the bottles were hurled into a big gray rubber trash can in the far corner of the bar, however, a few of them missed, making a sticky mess on the floor of broken glass and beer dregs. No one had made an attempt to clean it up. I was sure if Betsey were behind the bar instead of me, she would’ve jumped down the culprits’ throats and made them clean up their own mess, but because I was the one behind the bar, the mess stayed and got bigger.

I moved around the room, careful to stay out of the way and not attract any attention. I managed to get quite a few glasses gathered, and retreated back to the bar. Donna was curled up on one couch, half on a visiting member’s lap. He was leaning back, his eyes half-closed while she rubbed at his erection through his jeans. It wouldn’t be long before she would lead him to the back rooms. I hurried through and set up a load in the dishwasher, then pressed my luck by tackling the mess in the corner.

I cleared the glass, swept, and mopped the area quickly. I was just thinking I was home free and could go hide behind the bar again, when a pair of hands grabbed me from behind and pulled me into a hard male body.

“Well, well, well! Look what the Kat dragged in!” Joker sang in my ear.

I froze for a moment and he took that opportunity to grind himself into my backside.

“Nice to see you again, Puh-puh-pussy Kat.” He popped the P hard in my ear, and I felt the draft of his breath against my cheek.

I tried to pull away.

“Please let me go, Joker. I’m only here to fill in for Betsey,” I said, trying to keep an even voice and hide my sudden nerves.

“Oh, but I don’t want to, pretty kitty.” He snaked his arm around me, trapping both of mine against my sides. “I wanna play. Come on, baby, let me pet that pussy.” He reached around my front and shoved his hand between my legs, grabbing me hard. I gasped and tried to pull away again.

“Uh-uh, baby! Where you going?” he sang, sticking his face into the side of my neck and licking my skin. “Mmmm… tastes good. I bet that pussy tastes better. Can’t wait to dive right in. I’m gonna eat that pussy raw, then I’m gonna fuck it so hard you’ll be yowling at the moon for more.”

“No… I don’t….” I struggled for words. The wet feel of his tongue on my neck was nauseating.

“You ain’t claimed and you’re at the Lair. That means you’re open for business. Come on, pretty pussy. I gotta room on loan in the back. Let’s see how loud I can make you purr!”

He started dragging me towards the back hallway, and I had no choice but to shuffle along. I pulled at his vise-like grip, and could feel the panic rising in the back of my throat.

“Joker, I’m not kidding, I don’t want this!”

“Yes, you do, Pussy Kat. You want to spread those legs wide for me,” he stated in his singsong voice.

“Stop!” I yelled desperately, as loud as I could. Suddenly Joker was no longer at my back, and I lost my balance. A pair of strong arms caught me, and I looked up into Stud’s furious eyes.

“You okay, Kat?” he asked in a low voice.

I was shaken up, but I wasn’t hurt so I nodded. The thudding sound of flesh hitting flesh met my ears, and I heard the chant of “Fight, fight, fight” as well. I looked out in the middle of the main room to see Mute standing with his fists clenched, and Joker laid out on the floor, clutching a bloody nose.

“What the fuck!” he yelled, blood running down his twisted face. “I don’t see no property tag on her! She fucking you, Mute? Or Stud?”

His eyes grew comically wide, and his mouth formed a large exaggerated O. “Oh! Oh! OH! I get it! You guys are sharing now! Well, fuck me!” He started laughing. The sound was disturbing given the blood and the maniacal look in his eyes. “Mute done found him a piece. When you done tapping that ass, I want a turn. Just like old times, eh?”

Mute reached down and grabbed the front of Joker’s cut and hauled him to his feet, drawing back his fist for another punch.

“Whoa, whoa there, big fella!” Joker smiled, the blood creating a macabre mask. “You know me, I was just joking around!”

Mute didn’t look like he was joking at all. He nailed Joker in the side of the jaw. Joker went down, more blood went flying, and more yelling sounded.

I tried to move out of Stud’s arms to go stop the fight, but he held me back. “Stay put, baby girl. This has been a long time coming. It’s not just about you.”

Mute picked Joker up again. The bloody man was dazed, but still laughing crazily.

“Damn, Mute! You still pissed over Maya? That bitch is long gone!”

I could hear Mute’s rage double in my head. I was afraid he would kill Joker, and while I didn’t think I’d cry too hard at the funeral, the fallout Mute would face wasn’t worth it.

“Stop them! Please!” I begged, my eyes filling with tears.

Stud looked at me with those fantastic blue eyes, and lightly shook his head.

“Mute had a woman years ago. Maya. Started out as a bunny, but hooked up with Mute real fast. He loved that bitch completely and he put his patch on her. Never saw him care about anyone like he did her. He took care of her, protected her, got her anything she wanted, thought she loved him back. She might have in her own way, but not enough to stay with him or stay faithful to him. Joker came through and charmed the pants off her, and I mean that in the literal sense. Mute caught them going at it in his room at the clubhouse. Joker was balls deep in her ass and she was high as a kite, wearing the cut he gave her that said Property of Mute. Not sure which is worse. A man seeing his woman shitting all over the patch he gave her, or the disrespect of a brother in making it happen.

“It took four of us to hold Mute back from beating the ever-lovin’ shit outta both of them. Maybe even killing them. As mad as Mute can get, I’ve never seen rage like that, and I hope I never do again. Long story short, Mute took back his patch, which is an ugly divorce here in the club. Brick made Maya leave town, and made Joker go nomad. He wanted to take Joker’s patch, but club rules say heritage members are exempt from just about everything. Joker would have to kill someone before he would be kicked out.”

I took a gasping breath and tried to control my quivering lips. My heart bled for Mute’s story. A betrayal like that would leave deep scars. Joker and Mute were supposed to be brothers, but how could one do that to the other?

A sonic wave blasted the room, the powerful noise coming from Brick.

“Enough!” he roared, coming down the stairs. “This is MY house! This is MY club! NO ONE DISRESPECTS ME HERE!”

Brick entered the fight ring that had formed around the two combatants. His face was flushed red and his two-hundred-fifty-pound frame shook with rage. He grabbed the front of Joker’s cut and threw him to the ground. “Who the fuck do you think you are? This ain’t no joke, asshole! You know the fucking rules of my fucking house!” He pointed to me, still being held by Stud. The hard authority that was Brick filled the room, and nobody could look away or speak. “Hear me now and hear me good, all y’all! That one is under my protection! You fuck with her, you fuck with me! And everyone here knows what happens when you FUCK WITH ME!”

Brick’s powerful stare made everyone else’s eyes drop. Mute went toe to toe with him for a moment longer, before he too was lowering his. “Party’s over! Shut it down and get the fuck out!”

There was some general muttering, but the partiers left, going to their cabins and rooms, either as members or as guests.

“Donna! Nikki! You get them other bitches in here and clean up this fucking mess before you go. If you’re staying with someone tonight, they can damn well wait! My fucking house comes fucking first!” Brick yelled, the rage still on his face.

Box was helping Joker to his feet. The bloody man was silent for once. Brick jerked his hand to the door.

“Get that motherfucker outta here! Brothers or not, you ain’t welcome here no more! Mute, make sure they get all the way off Lair property. I don’t wanna see nothing but their fuckin’ taillights in the distance.”

He turned to Stud. “You claimin’ her?” he growled, his bushy eyebrows beetled up. Mute froze on his way out the door and turned back to Brick, his expression tight and unreadable.

“No, but I’ll throw down for her,” Stud answered calmly.

I was startled to hear his answer. What did he mean? Throw down for me? Claiming? I was not well versed in biker language. I had no idea what any of this meant. Both Stud and Mute came to rescue me, but was that the same thing as claiming? Did I want to be claimed by one of them? Was claiming the same as patching? If it was, I didn’t want that! I looked at Mute, still as silent in my head as he was in real life. He was staring hard at Stud. I prayed at that moment to whoever could hear me for invisibility.

“Then let her the fuck go.” Brick’s voice was lower but no less commanding. “She ain’t staying with you tonight. She’s gonna take the extra room in my and Betsey’s suite. Tired of watching you fuckers! One a y’all’s got to shit or get off the pot!”

Mute turned angrily and left the house to finish clearing the property. As he stomped out of the lodge, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey by the neck, tipped it back, and took several swallows straight. I’d never seen him drink anything but coffee at the bar, and was a bit shocked at the ease with which he let the fiery liquor go down his throat. I wasn’t sure that a drunk Mute was better than a sober one.

Stud stiffened but released me and stood back. “Wait here, and I’ll get you that toothbrush and a tee to sleep in.”

He left the room, leaving me standing there with Brick.

“I’m so, so sorry, Brick,” I stammered, my arms hugging my middle, instinctively trying to get smaller. “I d-didn’t mean to cause trouble. I… um… I just wanted to help you and B-B-Betsey!”

My throat was closing up and I was losing the fight with my tears. A sob broke out of my mouth and I clamped my hand over my lips, desperately trying to hold in the rest.

Brick softened up immediately into the teddy bear I’d always thought he was. “Come ‘ere, darlin’. Ain’t your fault,” he crooned, hugging my shaking form into his barrel chest. “This ain’t the way my house runs, and I’m sorry you saw it this way. Don’t matter if a woman is an old lady, claimed, or open to the public, she’s in my house, she’s safe. She don’t gotta do nothing she don’t want to do.”

He stroked my back as I stifled more sobs. He was the patriarch of the club family as well as his own. This is what it feels like to have a father look out for you. A fresh wave of tears threatened to spill, and I struggled to fight them back.

“Anyone comes in my house, needs to show respect. For me, for my club, for my rules, for my brothers, for my women. I don’t get that, then you don’t come in my house. Simple as that.”

I heard Donna, Nikki, and the two other club women moving around the room clearing and cleaning a bit. I knew they could hear Brick talking to me, but I couldn’t see them. I felt someone else come up to us, but I couldn’t tell if it was Stud or Mute.

Brick kept talking, his growly voice low and soothing, “My rules are simple too. Drink and party as much as you want, but stay in control enough you don’t trash my place. I worked too hard and gave too much to build it for some drunk fuckers to tear it up. Fuck whoever you want and whenever, but take it to a room. Have that respect for your woman even if it’s for one night, and have respect for other club old ladies not to throw that in their faces. Betsey don’t like seeing that shit. And if your woman says no, respect that too and move on to someone else.”

Brick pulled back from me, letting me go, but he put his hands on my shoulders and looked me directly in the eye. His face was serious and I couldn’t look away.

“Betsey had a bad past with a drug runner, almost got herself killed over it. A woman needs to feel safe in her own place, and she went through something no woman should ever have to go through. This is her safe place now, and I make sure it stays that way. She don’t allow no drugs in here, not even pot. Boys wanna smoke one, they go to the cabins. She don’t even like cigarettes much, so the boys take that outside too. They respect my old lady enough to give her that. In turn, she takes care of them, their women, and the club. You keep helping and respecting her, you always gotta place here. You also got my protection.”

Brick dropped his hands, and I spotted Mute coming in the front door. Donna stopped what she was doing and went over to him, making sympathetic noises and pressing against his arm. His face was still tight and he held his body rigidly, as if he was full of energy that had no outlet.

Stud chose that moment to hand me a toothbrush still in the package and a faded Harley T-shirt. “Here you go, baby girl. You need something, my room is down the back hall, last room on the right. You go get settled. It’s after midnight, so we’ll deal with what we need to tomorrow.” He pressed his lips against my forehead and pushed me toward the steps after Brick’s retreating form.

I took one last look at Mute’s impassive face before going upstairs. My mind was numb, and the need to retreat was great. Brick showed me to a plain but nice room with a small adjoining bathroom. The apartment side of the loft was bigger than I thought, and really nice. I showered, used the lotions there for guest use, and opened the new toothbrush Stud had given me. His T-shirt was old and big. It hung down to mid-thigh on me. I got in the queen-size bed and tried to sleep, but was too keyed up. Restless, like I’d seen Mute earlier. I fidgeted and flipped for what seemed like hours, my mind wrestling with thoughts of Mute and Stud.

Claiming? Patching? Did one of them really like me like that? Plain old invisible me? Was that possible?

I finally got out of the bed, intending on slipping quietly to the bar and grabbing a shot of something that might help me relax enough to sleep. I slipped on my jeans, left the bedroom, and tiptoed my way through the suite. I heard Brick snoring loud enough to wake the dead in his own room, so I felt safe enough that I could sneak downstairs and get back quickly. I got to the loft, and heard another noise. I looked over the railing and almost went to my knees in shock. There was just enough light to show Donna bent over the pool table, completely naked, and a shirtless Mute pumping into her from behind.

The half-empty whiskey bottle sat on the green felt next to her. His pants were lowered just enough to allow him access. She was gasping and moaning with each hard thrust, and he held her hips, pulling her back into his body. The rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh echoed in the large room. I stood there and watched. I should have been disgusted or embarrassed. I should have turned away, but I couldn’t move. I was mesmerized by the sight of Mute’s flexing tattooed muscles, the silver chain around his neck glinting in the bluish moonlight. This was raw, almost brutal sex. Not even sex.

This was fucking.

Donna was clawing at the table and gasping. He grabbed her arms, forcing them to her back, and pounded inside her. Donna screamed her climax, helpless as Mute kept going. He threw back his head, eyes closed, driving harder, and I felt my own sex pulse at the sight. His neck corded up as he clenched his jaw. I watched as he reached his own release silently, thrusting one last time deep into Donna’s body.

I was not a virgin, nor was I opposed to sex, but it had never been a big nor steady part of my life. It also had never been the supposed mind-blowing experience other women seem to enjoy. My one boyfriend whom I’d had years ago introduced me to it, and after that first painful night, it didn’t seem to me it was all it was cracked up to be. For the few months we stayed together, I let him do what he wanted, when he wanted. It didn’t do much for me, but it kept him happy for a while. Then he complained I didn’t participate enough. That I was cold in bed. He broke up with me using the clichéd “it’s not you, it’s me” line, but I knew he really meant it was me.

This is why I was shocked to feel so turned on as I gazed at the sight below. I wanted it to be me there on the pool table, him holding me down, driving into me, making me come. There was also a pain in my chest knowing I had the answers to my questions. It would never happen. Mute only tolerated my presence for what I could do for the club and Betsey; otherwise, he had nothing to do with me. He would rather fuck a club bunny than be with me.

I watched as he pulled out. He removed the condom, tied a knot in the end, and threw it in the closest trash can. Donna cooed and made a big show of rolling off the table. I couldn’t hear was she was saying. I just watched as she pressed herself against Mute while he wiped off and tucked himself back in his pants. Running her hands up and down his chest, she kissed and licked him, sucking at his nipples.

He stood there still as a statue, watching her touch him. He didn’t touch her back, hold her in his arms, or kiss her. Instead, he looked up at the balcony railing, right into my eyes, like he knew I’d been there the whole time and the fucking scene was nothing more than a show for my benefit. I felt a sob crawl up the back of my throat. His face was hard. His mouth set in a grim line. His eyes dead.

“You should leave,” I heard him in my head. “You don’t belong here.”

He pushed Donna’s grasping hands off him, picked up the whiskey bottle, and turned to walk out of the house. She cried out after him and tried to follow, but he ignored her and continued through the door. The naked woman crumpled on the floor in a curled-up heap. I could hear her crying out her hurt. I knew how she felt, but I jammed the heel of my hand against my mouth to stifle my own sounds. Brick was still snoring from his room in the suite, ignorant of my movements.

I went back to the guest room, climbed in the bed, and hugged one of the big, fluffy pillows to my middle. I buried my face in another one and let loose just a little, soaking it with the flood of tears I’d been holding back. Miraculously, after that little crying jag, I felt a great relief, almost giddy. I would do what I did best. I would lock my feelings and hurts into a corner of my mind and leave them there. I had a plan. Finish school, start working at the hospital full-time, save up some money, and move somewhere else. I would stick with it. I would ignore Mute, and do my job, period. I would wrap myself in a Harry Potter cloak of invisibility, and I would survive. With my mind clear, I was finally able to fall asleep.

* * *

Mute sat on one of several picnic tables that were scattered around the club’s courtyard. It was a cool night, but he was drunk enough not to feel it. All around him were the sounds of the woods. He tipped back the whiskey bottle, and swallowed the last of the strong liquor. It burned a welcome path to his stomach. He went to throw the bottle across the yard, but was sober enough to know Betsey would have his hide if she came back to a courtyard with broken glass in it. That woman ran a tight ship, both at the bar and at the clubhouse. He set the bottle down next to him, burped lightly, and listened to the crickets and katydids chirping and buzzing.

Fucking Joker! Goddamn cocksucker! If he wasn’t a brother, he needs to be taken up the mountain!

He glanced back at the lodge. Bet she’ll leave now.

Sometime during his whiskey binge, he had come back into the lodge. Donna had followed him, chattering, touching, and rubbing. He didn’t remember her words to him, as he didn’t spend a lot of time paying attention to her. He found her annoying most of the time, and her constant pursuit of him was irritating to say the least.

But tonight he was drunk and she was available. The minute she opened his jeans and pulled out his dick, he gave in and plowed into her on the pool table in the main room. He knew he was using her only to get off, his head full of Kat while he was pounding into her body, and now he was regretting it. Even if Donna was a club bunny, still didn’t make it right to be fucking her while he was wishing it was someone else.

When he spotted Kat watching, he was thrilled that perhaps she would see how much she didn’t belong in club life, almost happy.

Fuck! he thought again. If he was so happy about it, then why did he feel like shit?