“What can I get you gentlemen to drink?” I asked.

“’Bout fuckin’ time,” Dopey rumbled. “Been stuck waiting here for an hour.”

“I’m so sorry—I thought you’d been helped,” I said, ignoring Shade pointedly. “In fact, I could’ve sworn I saw Sara back here several times. Guess I need glasses. Now can I take your order, please?”

“Four pitchers,” Shade said. “The usual. And some shots.”

I hated how he just assumed that I’d know what he drank, except I actually did, and pretending I didn’t would mean talking to him longer. Heading back toward the bar, I watched as the door opened and another group came in. More bikers. Bikers I recognized—Rebel’s club.

Awesome.

I’d hung out with these people. Laughed with them. Eaten their food. Now I was the ex-girlfriend to one of their own—one whose truck I’d destroyed. One who might’ve gotten secretly murdered by the Reapers. Probably not, but… Oh, and then there was the bruising. Nothing awkward here, nothing at all.

Denial, I thought. Denial will save me. Everything is good and at the end of the night, Bone will give all three waitresses shiny baby bonus unicorns because we’re so Goddamned friendly and efficient.

I really needed to get a new job.

“I’ll be right with you!” I shouted out, heading back to the bar to put in Shade’s order. At least Bone was smart enough not to gloat over the fact that I’d given in and served the Reapers.

I’d have hit him over the head with my tray.

 

 

Fortunately, things got busier after that, and while I was still keeping an eye on the Reapers, the bar was hopping for a Thursday night, which meant I didn’t have much time to worry. By ten, it was clear this wouldn’t be one of those evenings that we closed down early, even if it was a weeknight.

This was a good thing, too, because I liked money.

It also meant I was too busy running my ass off to think about the Reapers beyond making sure their drinks stayed full. Sara managed Rebel’s club, who stuck to the front of the bar. Combined with my new philosophy of denial, this worked pretty well right up until I ran into his president’s old lady in the bathroom.

We’d met before, of course. Her name was Amelia. She was at least twenty years older than me and she had a nice smile.

Except she wasn’t smiling at me in the mirror.

Nope.

She was watching me patch up the pancake makeup I’d used to hide the bruising. I nodded, then washed my hands, desperate to get away before she had the chance to say something along the lines of We all hate you now because you fed Rebel to the Reapers.

Not that I had, but I couldn’t exactly expect his friends to take my side in this whole thing.

“You’re Mandy, right?” she asked. I nodded, noting she looked harder than I remembered. Hard in that skinny, wiry way that led me to believe she could kick my ass in a fight. “I heard about what happened.”

“Um, yeah,” I said, grabbing a paper towel. “Look, it wasn’t—”

“Rebel’s a moron and none of us are going to miss him,” she said bluntly, catching me totally off guard. “The guys wouldn’t say that, of course. I shouldn’t even be talking to you about it, but this is awkward for everyone. What he did was a mark against our club and he’s out bad. I’m sorry you got caught up in it.”

I blinked, because whatever I’d expected her to say, this wasn’t it. My mouth opened because I wanted to pepper her with questions. There were layers here. Layers that didn’t quite make sense to me…but did I really want to know the answers?

I thought about Heath Andrews again and what it would feel like to get interrogated by him.

“Thanks,” I said instead. Then I left the bathroom and went back to work.

 

 

“Time for a break,” Bone told me an hour later as I passed him a tray of empties. It was just after eleven-thirty and he’d already sent Sara back for a rest.

“I’ll be in the office,” I replied, enjoying the thought of putting up my feet for a few. God only knew how late we’d stay open—hours at the Pit more or less followed the customers, and we could be here until two at this rate. Sara came up next to me.

“Anything I need to know?” she asked.

“The guys at table four are pretty fucked up,” I told her. “We may need to cut them off soon.”

Sara sighed, because cutting off customers was never fun.

“I’ll do it,” Bone said. “They’re part of the riding club, which means their brothers might cause trouble.”

“Thanks,” Sara said, flashing him a quick smile.

“That’s so sweet of you, Bone, stepping in like that. You know, you’re wasted as a manwhore,” I told him. “You’d make some lucky girl a wonderful boyfriend.”

Sara burst out laughing and Bone growled.

“Break. Now.”

I blew him a kiss and started toward the back of the bar, pointedly ignoring the corner full of Reapers. I might have to serve them drinks, but my break time belonged to me alone. My purse was locked up in Bone’s office and I planned to grab it so I could touch up my makeup again.

I was halfway down the hall when the back room door opened and Shade stepped out, blocking my path.

“Hey, babe,” he said, giving me a slow smile that made my ovaries combust.

“I’m not interested in talking to you,” I said firmly. He ignored the words, sliding his hand into my hair to grip me tight for a deep, hard kiss that seemed to block out all other kinds of reality. How was I in his arms again? Wonder Woman would be so disappointed. I was vaguely aware that he’d tugged me into the room, but only fully grasped the situation as he kicked the door shut behind us. Then he was lowering me down onto a table, kicking my legs apart with his and pushing forward until my core touched the hard length between his legs.

It felt amazing. Whole body tingling type stuff.

This was when I really should’ve kicked him in the crotch.

Instead, I found myself tugging his shirt free from his jeans, sliding my hands up along the hard muscles of his back. Shade’s tongue shoved deep into my mouth. Bursts of want and desire and raw need filled my body with fire, until it felt like I’d burn up entirely unless the empty ache between my legs was filled. Christ, no wonder he’d called me a cock tease. Every time he came near I melted into a puddle of hormonal glee.