Page 2 of Her Nosey Biker (Savage Kings MC #10)

CHAPTER ONE

LOOT

THREE YEARS LATER:

“ O h, come the fuck on! He’s a fucking cheat!

I can’t believe this shit…” the newbie fucker across the table yells, smacking his fat-ass beer gut into the table, making the whole thing, chips and all, shake.

I roll my eyes and just smirk at him, which has the intended effect and makes him even angrier.

“If you, your small wallet, or your even smaller dick can’t handle losing a couple of hands of poker, I’m afraid this might not be the best place for you, Slim.

See, this place is for grown-ass fucking men with big wallets and even bigger balls.

” I give him a sly smile, showing all my pearly whites.

“You motherfuck…”

“Alright, time for you to go,” Felix, the mean-mugging manager, grunts, coming to our table and grabbing the fat-ass on the shoulder.

Slim opens his mouth to argue, but one look at the suited, sharp-dressed man, with the calm and calculating eyes, and he snaps his mouth shut.

I snort and get sharp eyes from Felix, too, but I can see the slight smile he tries to hide.

Or maybe I just think I’m my own comedian and he’s trying to kick my ass out of here, too.

Nahhh… that can’t be it, Felix loves me. I give Slim a tiny wave as he mumbles, picking up his meager pile of chips.

“That’s it! I’m going to…” The fat-fuck rounds on me, and Finick explodes.

Growling and putting herself between me and the fucker, I pat her head, reassuring her this fucker ain't no threat.

Still, the pearly sharp whites Finick is showing make the fucker stumble back into a now much less patient Felix.

I swear his slicked-back hair is never out of place, but one thing Felix doesn’t handle well is trouble he didn’t make.

If I see one hair out of place, I know he’s liable to burn this whole place down, and with this being one of my favorite places in this damn town, I know it’s time to keep my smart-ass mouth shut.

“Settle.” The one command has my girl calm in a sec and staring at me with her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth. I swear, almost like a smirk.

I chuckle as I watch the man being escorted out of Widow’s Peak Casino, the faux-Vegas, neon-lit room.

In an abandoned textile factory, this place would seem something straight off the strip if it weren't in the middle of bumfuck Colorado.

Looking around the room, I take in the red velvet, gold-trimmed decor, and the smoke filling the room.

I smile at the feeling of home that sits with me as I take it all in.

Growing up in the actual city of sin, this is as close to vice as I let myself get.

I didn't have the worst home life, but it wasn't the cozy kind every kid dreams of, either.

With my mom being a dealer at one of the richest casinos on the Strip and my dad, her married boss, owning the casino, we were, of course, his dirty little secret.

As long as he kept my mom supplied with alcohol and a nice place in the city, she kept her mouth shut and me fed.

I didn't really give a shit; the more I grew up, the more I saw my parents as just sucky-ass fucking people.

I wouldn't really call them evil; they never hit me or any of that type of shit.

More like they just thought as long as they gave me food and new clothes every once in a while, their job was done.

The minute I turned eighteen and graduated, I joined the military and never looked back.

My parents never tried to contact me, but in their defense, I never tried to contact them either.

Granted, my sperm donor has plenty of fucking time and money to search if he ever cared.

Ten years later, my phone still never rings with that area code.

I take it as a sign that our lives were just never meant to cross again.

“You can’t just make it easy on me for one night, can you? Always starting some type of shit,” Felix grouches as he watches the piece of shit be kicked out on his ass.

I gasp dramatically, holding my chest. “I take offense at that. I thought I was doing you a favor!”

“How in the fuck is winning every hand, then egging on the fuckers stupid enough to play against you, causing them to disturb my other guests in any way, a help to me?” he asks, only raising one eyebrow, not moving any other muscle. Even the single silver hoop adorning his ear doesn't dare budge.

“I’m just making sure the riffraff stays away. You don't want those types stinking up this place,” I tell him.

“Get your chips and cash out,” he says before turning and walking away. I chuckle, collecting my shit and getting up.

I don't take my chances with Felix. Honestly, I’m lucky as fuck he’s cool with the Savage Kings Motorcycle Club.

I serve as the treasurer of the club. He knows how good I am with numbers; that's why I manage the club's books and even help Felix out now and then when he needs it. In return, he gives me a small office here for when I need it, and he lets me play even though he knows I’ll win every single fucking time.

Still, even I know when it's time to head home.

“Come on, girl,” I say, calling Finick to my side. We weave through the tables and people milling around, and I make my way out the back exit to where I’ve parked my bike.

Finick hops up on the seat as I unlock my saddlebags and grab her harness, goggles, and helmet, which features attached earmuffs.

She already wears her club vest, which matches mine, but I have to make sure my girl is safe, and take every precaution while on my bike.

For her part, she already knows the drill and sits patiently as I clip her in.

Some people might find it fucking weird or dangerous that I ride with my dog, but I’m careful, and she's the most important part of my life.

I don't take unnecessary risks with her, and honestly, I don't know how long she would last if she couldn't ride.

After returning from our last mission, when I was fighting to even get my girl home, the only comfort we seemed to find was in each other and on this old hog.

For months straight, we did nothing but ride, town to town, city to city, state to state.

It was just me, her, this old bike, and the blacktop.

It took me months to stop by the Black Crown, the Savage Kings Motorcycle Club's home base.

I felt so much guilt for not being able to save one of the members' prospects.

A kid who grew up in this town and only wanted to make a name for himself before coming home and joining the club.

He talked about the guys with so much hero worship, I just had to meet them.

I made the stop, not knowing whether I would need to beg for forgiveness or let them kick the shit out of me; neither would make me feel worse than I already did. What happened was even more unexpected.

They accepted me. Finick and I both, with open arms. I didn't know how to act at first, but I walked into that bar expecting to never return and ended up never leaving.

It was a turning point in my life. For so long, I was just going through the motions, only living to feed and take care of Finick.

The guys in this brotherhood saved my life.

As I walk into my place later that night, throwing my keys on the side table, I take in the loud echo they cause. The only thing that seems to be missing in this life is someone to fill the noise, though, who would want a fuck-up like me?