McKenna holds up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Scouts’ honor. I’ll be a good girl . I promise”
I snort. “You don’t know the first thing about Scouts and you just called yourself a girl.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
The elevator comes to a jerky stop, and the rolling door is yanked open from the other side. Standing there is another huge biker with a PROSPECT patch on his vest. This one is older, with a thick beard and tattoos covering every visible inch of skin.
“Uhm, we’re looking for Pee Wee?”
The guy eyes us up and down, then points to his left without a word.
We step off the elevator, and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Holy shit.” I expected this place to have a makeshift ring in a dank basement, but we've stepped into what looks like a high-end nightclub with a big shiny cage in the center of the room.
Tiered seating that probably holds a few hundred people surrounds the metal octagon.
To the left, a long bar runs the length of the wall, backlit with blue and purple neons.
The rest of the space is filled with tables and private booths upholstered in dark leather.
Everything screams money—from the polished floors to the multiple flat-screen TVs mounted around the room.
A huge man sitting on a stool at the bar waves us over without even looking up. His massive shoulders strain against the leather of his vest, and even sitting down, I can tell he’s well over six feet tall.
“Holy shit, he’s huge,” McKenna whispers as we approach. “He doesn’t look like a Pee Wee to me.”
I shoot her a wide-eyed look, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.
“Right. Sorry,” she whispers, but I can see the mischief dancing in her eyes.
As we come to stand beside him, I take in the amber liquid in the glass in front of him, the cigarette burning in an ashtray, and the papers scattered across the bar top.
“What can I do for you?” he asks, his voice raspy like he smokes two packs a day. He still hasn’t bothered to look at us.
“We’re looking for a job, Pee Wee.”
My eyes close slowly as I fight not to laugh. My best friend just can’t help herself.
Pee Wee starts to turn around on his stool, and his eyes shoot open wide when they lock onto McKenna. I’m not surprised. My best friend is gorgeous with her perfect bone structure and flowing dark hair.
“A job, huh?” His gaze sweeps over Kenny appreciatively before turning to me.
I step forward. “Please.”
He looks me over with zero interest, his expression neutral. “I could use another waitress,” he says, pointing at me. “And an assistant.” He points at McKenna.
“Great! When do we start?” Kenny asks quickly, before the big guy can change his mind.
“You,” he points to me, “be back here tomorrow night at eight.” He turns to McKenna. “And you, be here tomorrow morning. Nine AM sharp.”
“See ya then, big guy.” To what I know will be her later horror, Kenny lifts both hands and makes finger guns at him. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
Pee Wee lips turn up, and I have to admit, the man is sexy as hell when he smiles. His entire face transforms, the hardness giving way to something almost boyish.
I glance over at Kenny who has a dreamy look on her face.
Oh good lord.
“We’ll be here,” I say quickly, linking my arm through Kenny’s and dragging her towards the exit. Lord knows I need to get us out of here before she does something crazy, like take off her clothes and jump on the man’s lap.
“What are you doing?” I whisper-hiss once we’re out of earshot.
“I don’t know!” she whispers back frantically. “Did I seriously do finger guns?”
I giggle despite myself. “You totally did.”
We reach the elevator, and the prospect presses the button to call it down. Kenny and I wait as the car descends, listening to the cables groan and metal scrape against metal.
“This thing does not sound safe,” I say more to myself than to her.
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
The rolling door begins to lift, slowly revealing a pair of scuffed black boots, then dark jeans, then a leather vest over a tight black t-shirt that’s stretched over a broad chest.
Nice.
And then I see his face.
My whole world stops spinning when my eyes lock onto his caramel-colored ones that seem to burn right through me.
He’s tall—at least six-foot-two—with broad shoulders and arms covered in intricate tattoos that disappear beneath his shirt.
His black hair is cut short on the sides but longer on top, and dark scruff frames full lips that are set in a hard line.
His eyes sweep down my body slowly before returning to meet mine, narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to place me. I take a tiny step back, my heart hammering in my chest.
What the hell is that?
He walks past us, getting off the elevator, and McKenna drags me inside. When I turn around he’s still staring at me with an intensity that makes the hair on my arms stand up. And just as quickly, our connection is broken when the rolling door is pulled down between us.
“What the fuck was that?” McKenna asks, her eyes wide.
I swallow hard, my pulse still racing. “I have no idea.”