Page 96 of Lost Lyrebird

I nod and try to portray a confidence I don’t feel.

“You’re a pretty girl.”

My stomach twists as his gaze travels down my body.I’m not dressed in anything special, but his gaze has me wanting to cover up.

In response, I force a half-smile onto my face and push a “Thank you” past my lips.“Maybe…”

“What?”

“Maybe we can work out some kind of arrangement.”

I know this look.Finn is one of the only men I’ve come across who doesn’t look at me like this.But I’ve been isolated here.Away from Veno and his men, away from most people to tell the truth of it.I’ve sort of been a hermit since Finn left, and I hate feeling like this again—like I’m at the mercy of a man with power over me—I’m not prepared for it.

I should be, though.This is, after all, how the opposite sex has always seen me, as a possession or someone to take advantage of.They see the shell I wear and nothing else.

Back in the present, I watch Goose help his old landlord sit in the rocking chair.Goose’s looking down at him, granting him one of his rare smiles.The sight of it has something vile stirring inside me.Something dark and twisted.

The relationship between them shocks the hell out of me.I try to reason it out.The Goose I knew would never care for a man like this.

It pisses me off—how can Goose be so blind to the danger lurking in and around him?Is his head stuck in the fucking sand?Are his migraines hindering his ability to think clearly?

Maybe like me, he’s just another flawed, complex human being who doesn’t have his shit together.This I get.But it also makes me worry that Goose is wholly unprepared for the war coming his way.

CHAPTER 27

The most attractive quality a person can have is a damn good sense of humor.

My reservations about joining Raven for drinks sit heavy at the forefront of my mind as I pull into the parking lot.Passing nearly two dozen motorcycles lined up in front of the bar doesn’t help.It’s not that I don’t know what I’m walking into—I do.Monday nights are something of a ritual for the HOCs, after all.It’s more the idea ofwhomight be among them that has me planning for the best and preparing for the worst.

Will Goose being here deter me from moving forward with the next part of my plan?

No.

Just like his proximity hasn’t stopped me from dancing my ass off at Wet Tips night after night, agreeing to lap dances, or flirting with a few of his brothers whenever the opportunity presents itself.

If anything, knowing it gets under his skin only spurs me on.And there’s something about my flirting with Stone in particular that riles his blood.It’s something he can’t mask.

So I make a point to focus my attention on him.Call it a small slice of vindication—for the hell I lived through because of him, and the chaos he’s stirred up in my head lately.

Everything I’ve discovered about him recently has thrown me for a loop.I’m honestly not sure how to deal with any of it.

In some ways, I don’t feel as if I know him at all.

So is it smart to be in his orbit with a good dose of alcohol in my system?No.Absolutely not.This would add a whole new layer of risk to an already complicated situation.Add to the fact that certain types of alcohol hit me differently and trigger all kinds of reactions, which means I must make a conscious effort to keep myself in check tonight.

After finally finding a spot in the packed lot, I take a moment to pull myself together.Using the sun visor mirror, I reapply my lipstick and work on slipping into character, practicing my expressions, whispering lines under my breath.When I’m ready, I pocket the lipstick, cash, and ID, and step out of the car.After locking my purse in the trunk, I head for the front door.

My stone-washed jeans, like my shirt, are tight as sin, and the black leather boots I’m wearing hit mid-knee with five-inch heels.They’re hell on my feet, but worth it for the attention they draw.My shirt’s the real showstopper, though.It’s black, sleeveless, with a plunging neckline and a shamelessly low back that shows off my ink.

It’s the perfect outfit to help me blend in at a biker bar, while also standing out.

I’ve paired it with my jewelry, my armor—the one part of me that’s real.Two layered silver necklaces, bracelets that jingle when I move, and all my favorite rings, which also happen to be my good luck charms—rings that I spin now and then, when I’m stressed, which tonight are a necessity.

Dressing for effect is something I learned through my lifelong addiction to fashion and lifestyle magazines.Back when I couldn’t get an education, they were my window into the worlds I wanted to know more about.The rings came later and help to ground me to my true identity whenever I’m emotionally overwhelmed.

Music also helps, which is the case as I get closer and hear Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Run Through the Jungle” filtering out from inside the bar.I hum the tune as I approach.

A younger prospect, one of the bikers going through the MC’s initiation process, guards the bikes, and near him are a few other guys who are smoking.One of them whistles when he sees me, but I just smile, wave, and keep walking.