CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JESSE
It’s after midnight, and Flint’s bachelor party is in full swing. With a room full of bikers, booze, and babes, what more could Flint ask for in a party?
The upstairs private room at the bar is packed with all of the members of the Steel Infidels, along with several of our friends from other motorcycle clubs. As promised, Roger delivered the beer kegs and strippers right on time.
Like most bachelor parties, the goal is for everyone to drown themselves in alcohol. While a few guys might get lucky enough to grab some pussy, most are here to drink and look more than touch.
I can’t help but smile when I think about Trish’s reaction to the party. Without saying one word, she made it perfectly clear she wasn’t thrilled about the strippers. Hopefully I convinced her it is all in good fun and nothing else.
With a woman as satisfying as Trish in my bed, I sure as hell won’t be looking elsewhere for a quick, dirty fuck. Especially after the red-hot sex this afternoon. My mind and body are still reeling. The more I taste of her, the more I want.
I walk over to speak with Rocco and Tom Brewer, the two oldest members of the Steel Infidels. “Thanks for coming,” I say to them. “It means a lot that you are here.”
“Sorry about giving you a hard time about the party,” Rocco says, looking slightly embarrassed. “This whole thing with the Liberators has me spooked. That’s all. You know I wouldn’t miss it. Flint looks like he’s having fun.”
He points his beer toward a straight chair set up in the middle of the room.
I turn around to look and then laugh. “To be honest, I’m not sure.”
Flint is sitting in a chair while a group of strippers take turns giving him intimate lap dances. At first he put up resistance to the idea, but after enduring a great deal of teasing from the men and securing promises of no cell phone photos, he finally agreed to take the place of honor.
Now it looks like he might be regretting it. Big time.
A topless stripper with purple-streaked hair has his head squeezed between her oversized DD breasts. From the panicked look in his eyes, I can’t tell if he’s turned on and enjoying it or if he’s about to suffocate from the intense motor-boating.
Sam is standing a few feet away from the action laughing his ass off. It’s obvious who is having the most fun tonight. No surprise there.
If nothing else, at least Flint knows his brothers care enough to throw him a party. I wonder if I should go rescue him. When he reaches up with the back of his hand to wipe the sweat dripping off of his forehead, I walk over and hand him a plastic cup of draft beer.
He chug-a-lugs the entire contents of the cup and hands it back. “Thanks. I needed that,” he says. “Jesus Christ, Jesse! How many fucking strippers are in this room? I don’t know how much more I can take. The last one tried to put her nipple in my mouth!” He wipes his lips with his hand. “Got any mouthwash on you? That was downright nasty, and not in a good way.”
The next stripper in line, a petite blonde in only a G-string that covers absolutely nothing, interrupts our conversation by putting her hands on his shoulders and grinding on his groin.
Flint cuts his eyes at me. “You got to help me out here, man.”
I touch the blonde’s arm and motion for her to move on. “Okay, ladies,” I say to the remaining girls. “Let’s give the man of the hour a little break before he has a heart attack. I’m sure the other men would love a show, so spread your love out around the room.”
The blonde looks slightly disappointed, then her face lights up when she sees Sam beckoning her over.
Flint stands up and scoots the chair out of the way. He takes a deep breath and blows it out. “Whew! That was something,” he says, wiping off his lips again with the corner of his shirt.
“That bad, huh?” I ask, unable to hide a smile.
“More like overwhelming,” he answers. “I’m not complaining though. I appreciate the bachelor party. Thank you. I know you put all of this together and it means a lot. Seriously.”
“I couldn’t let my brother get hitched without a party.” I squeeze his shoulder. “By the way, you have red lipstick on your shirt.”
He looks down at the stain left behind on the white fabric. “Damn! Now I’ll have to toss this shirt before I go home. Kendra is going to fucking kill me. The last thing she said to me the morning I left was ‘look at the girls all you want, but don’t touch, Flint.’”
“Technically, they touched you. Not the other way around. So you’re square.”
“Oh yeah, like Kendra is going to appreciate the tiny distinction there.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “She’ll never know. Come on. Let’s go catch up with some of our friends.”
We almost make it across the room before we hear screams coming from the bar downstairs.
“What the fuck is that?” Flint turns to me to say.
“We’d better go find out,” I reply, already on my way out the door.
Taking the stairs two at a time, we rush down to the lower level. The bar customers are pushing in a wave of panic toward the back of the bar while trying to get away from flickering flames near the front windows and door. A tablecloth catches on fire, spreading the flames further into the room.
“What the hell?” Flint yells.
While we’re standing there trying to figure out what is going on, the front window of the bar shatters in a loud explosion of glass as a bottle comes hurtling through.
“Molotov cocktails!” I yell to Flint. “Go upstairs and get everybody in the party out the back. Someone is trying to set the place on fire.”
Flint takes off back upstairs and I frantically search the bar for Trish. She’s standing behind her beer cooler, frozen to the spot in confusion and fear. Pushing my way against the crowd of people moving toward me, I finally reach her side and grab her hand.
“Come on! You need to get out of here now! Where’s the back exit?”
She points to a hallway behind the bar and I start dragging her that way. A series of loud pops in quick succession rattle the building. I can’t tell if it is explosions or gunfire. I look toward the front of the bar and see two security guards with guns raised firing through the blown-out windows into the parking lot.
“Shit! Where the hell did Roger get those bouncers from? ISIS?”
Another security guard runs toward the flames with a fire extinguisher spewing out foam. Trish looks over her shoulder while I keep tugging her toward the back door.
I need to get her out of the building before the rest of the crowd realizes this is the only way out. A fire in a bar full of drunk bikers with one small door isn’t a good combination. Trish might be crushed in a stampede.
I throw open the back door and push her out in front of me. “Stay here where you’ll be safe. Don’t go back in.”
Trish grabs my sleeve. “Where are you going?”
“Around to the front of the building. I know who did this.”
Before she has a chance to argue, I dash around the corner of the building and head to the front parking lot. The bouncers are outside the building now with their guns pointed at a man lying on the edge of the pavement. His bike is on the ground beside him.
“Oh shit!”
I know him.