Page 13 of Burning Ember

Great.My gut knots up even more. Like a dishtowel being wrung dry.

A heavy exhale leaves her. She pats my arm again, gives me a small smile. “I’ll look out for you. Just stick close to me. And remember, let me do the talkin’.”

No problem.

“You ready?”

The voice of reason inside my head screams a blinding,NO!My heartbeat drums in my ears. I take a steadying breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Opening the door, I exit the car and do my best to wipe the nervous look off my face. I need to be confident. Strong. Fearless. Otherwise, these bikers will eat me alive.

Three feet into the clubhouse, Lily stops walking and I nearly run into her.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room. But as they do, I breathe in a mixture of smoke, cologne, and sweat, and absorb the steady beat of soulful music as it pulses around me. The volume almost drowns out the hum of conversation, and girlish giggles, but not quite.

The room is spacious with dark walls and rustic, worn wood floors. On my right is a long bar, and behind it are shelves of liquor and a wide mirror that runs the entire length of the bar. The other walls are adorned with motorcycle memorabilia, pictures, plaques, and patriotic oddments.

In the corner of the room, a couple of feet from the door, an actual motorcycle hangs from the ceiling by thick chains. It sits on a diamond pattern metal platform. The gas tank is a blend of colors from pale yellow to burnt orange that fades into a deep brown-red. All the colors of fire and brimstone, if I’m not mistaken.

Most of the men are swathed in leather, and scattered around the room. They’re either at the bar, sitting at one of the many tables, or taking residence on one of the couches against the walls. A small group of them are gathered around the pool table on the far side of the room, pool cues in hand. One of the men, a handsome blond, has a brunette pinned against the pool table. My gaze nearly sweeps over him until I catch him pulling down the girl’s shirt and bending forward to suck her nipple into his mouth. She giggles and I realize that’s where the high-pitched giggles are coming from. The man notices my gaze as he straightens. A dazzling smile splits over his face and he wiggles his brows at me.

I quickly look away.

Close to a dozen men and at least five women, are here in the main room. Two of the girls are dressed like Lily, more rocker chic, where the other three look like call girls, dressed in revealing clothing, like the girl with bleach-blonde hair wearing a leather miniskirt and a red bra covered by a black mesh top. Or the other Spanish-looking girl with tattoos sitting on a biker’s lap at the bar, her yellow dress looks as if it might work better as tooth floss.

Moans draw my eyes to the left. A huge male with messy mohawked brown hair sits on the couch. He’s massive and covered in tattoos from his face to his fingers. His head is kicked back and his eyes are closed. And if it wasn’t for the moaning and girl rocking back and forward over his hips, and his death grip on her waist I’d almost mistake him for being asleep.

It’s clear they’re having sex. However, the other occupants of the room seem unfazed by it.

It’s a shock to my system. I expected to walk into a den of sex, smoke, and unsavory acts, but anticipating it and seeing it with my own eyes, are two very different things.

“Who you got there, Lil’ Bird?” someone shouts from across the room. My muscles tense involuntarily as I feel the weight of a room full of stares. My breathing accelerates, but I fight the flight instinct telling me to run back out the way I came.

“About fuckin’ time, babe.” A handsome biker with peppered hair shouts from his stool at the bar. He leaps up and crosses the room with rapid, purposeful strides.

Lily’s face transforms with glee an instant before he grabs her face and claims her mouth with his.

A sound best left for the privacy of a bedroom emanates from him. Half-growl, half-groan. His large hand slides around her waist and gropes her ass.

Lily’s body melts against him. Then as if she suddenly remembers I’m there watching, she slaps his hand away and tries to wiggle out of his grip.

“Goose, baby, stop!”

“Hell no, woman. You were gone for fuckin’ ever.” He places quick kisses up and down her neck.

“Stop. Please, baby. Let me introduce you to my new friend. She needs a place to stay for a few days.”

The man grunts but doesn’t stop his assault.

“I brought her in because I thought the guys would like her. Maybe she can be my replacement. What do you think?”

At that, Goose lifts his eyes from her neck and gazes at me over her shoulder. His irises are azure blue and, good God, he’s a stunner. His tan and weather-beaten face is handsome and is accentuated by long hair that’s somewhat greasy. He has a mustache that circles down to a goatee and this rugged, sexy, older man vibe that’s appealing as hell.

The corner of his mouth lifts as he says, “She’s mighty fine, babe. But I’m pretty sure you know this is a bad idea. You know how Ricky Boy feels about outsiders, particularly redheads.”

My heart sinks.What?What’s wrong with redheads?They can’t turn me out now. Davis is out there.

“Come on, babe. It would be nice to have someone new and normal around the club, not all of these . . .” Her hand flutters as if encasing the room. In a quieter voice, she continues, “ . . . used up rags.”

He chuckles in response.