Page 1 of Scythe (Devil Daddies MC #2)

P lease let this work. Please don’t let me run into anyone I know.

Winnie slid out of her eleven-year-old sedan and smoothed down her borrowed dress.

The evening air whisked through the gaps between the straps, making her shiver.

She rolled her eyes. Of course Belinda would consider this to be a complete outfit.

Winnie forced herself to walk away from the safety her car offered.

“You can do this!” she told herself sternly.

“Baby, in that dress, you can do anything,” a male voice assured her.

Winnie turned to see a man leaning against his motorcycle, smoking a cigarette. He could snap her in half with one arm tied behind his back. She waved a hand nervously and skittered past, almost rolling her ankle as she tried to balance on the borrowed, sky-high stilettos.

A line had already formed at the entrance of Inferno. Joining it, she restrained herself from correcting those who jumped ahead of her to join their friends. These are not second graders you need to teach, Winnie.

She struggled to keep from touching the itchy makeup Belinda had piled on her face as she slowly advanced to the door. Please don’t let that giant man turn me away again!

Crap! He’s there. The doorman stopped checking IDs to kiss his girlfriend. Maybe Winnie could scoot around him while he was distracted. She ran into his powerful arm as he blocked her. Crap! Now he’d never let her in.

“ID,” a rough voice demanded.

Winnie glanced up to see another Devil Daddies MC member had stepped in to screen people.

Gathering her courage and donning the bored expression Winnie saw often on her stepsister’s face, Winnie extended her license.

He gripped the small card in his hand and looked back and forth between her picture and her person.

“Not cool,” the regular doorman growled after ending his kiss and turning toward the door. He held out his hand to take her ID from the other biker.

“Wraith,” his girlfriend said as she patted his massive thigh.

He scanned her image and her face several times as well. When he opened his mouth, Winnie could tell he was going to send her away.

Her already fast heart rate skyrocketed. She had to get to Lucien. He was the only one who could help her.

Suddenly, the burly doorman looked at the curvy woman at his side. She nodded, and after a slight hesitation, he handed back her ID.

“Welcome to Inferno. Don’t cause trouble.”

“No, sir. Thank you.” Winnie clutched her ID and ran as fast as her high heels would allow her into the crowd.

A sign caught her eye near the door, and she raced to the women’s restroom and escaped into a stall to recover.

Collapsing on the toilet, she forced herself to slow her breathing.

She’d made it inside. Getting to Lucien was the next challenge.

After carefully patting the panic sweat from her face so she didn’t screw up her makeup, Winnie emerged from the stall and washed her hands.

The other women in the bathroom chatted and added fresh layers of lipstick over their already red lips.

They greeted her as if she were a regular, complimenting her on her dress and shoes.

Winnie appreciated their kindness. It helped her restore her bravery.

Winnie emerged determined and in control.

Staring at the interior of Inferno for the first time, she paused to take in the vast space and the crowd.

No wonder they had no problem turning people away.

It was packed. The dimmed lighting filled most of the area but there were two main bar areas lit by spotlights and glowing neon signs.

One area held tables where a lot of people ate.

A dance floor extended from one side with an elevated DJ booth.

Immediately, Winnie wished she had come to enjoy herself.

That thought reminded Winnie of her mission. Tugging at her short dress, she forced herself to focus and walked forward into the crowd. She ignored her wobbly step in the heels. I can do this.

She scanned the dimly lit interior of Inferno. Male and female bartenders put together drinks behind a huge winding bar. No flashy tossing of bottles or smoking cocktails in this place. Inferno seemed to specialize in beer and frozen drinks with whiskies and other hard liquors.

When a server walked by with a huge tray, she asked, “Where can I find Lucien?”

The woman shook her head. “You don’t.”

What did that mean? Winnie stared after her as the server adeptly wove through the boisterous partiers. Winnie lifted the scant fraction of an inch more she could rise onto her toes and scanned the crowd. If she were the boss of all this, where would she hide?

“Why do you want to see Lucien?”

The barked question made her jump. Winnie came down on the heels and wobbled. She reached out to grab something to stabilize herself and regain her balance. She met the man’s accusing eyes and blurted, “You scared me. You should talk nicely to others.”

“I should talk nicely to others? I’ll get right on that.” He looked down at her hand wrapped around his forearm.

“Oh! Sorry.” Winnie snatched her hand from him, trying not to dwell on how hard his muscles were.

“Why are you looking for Lucien?” he repeated. His tone had not improved.

It was the man who’d scanned her ID at the door.

Now that the stress of getting inside had faded slightly, Winnie realized how drool-worthy this biker was.

Even in the dim light, she could see his shiny chestnut-brown hair and handsome face.

She wanted to lean forward to check if his eyes were blue or green, but controlled herself.

His chest and arms bulged with strength.

When he cleared his throat, she realized she was staring.

“Sorry. I’d like to show him a collection I think he’ll find interesting.” She told him the truth.

“He won’t. Enjoy yourself at Inferno or go home. Lucien doesn’t meet with anyone.”

The massive biker turned and stalked away. Jerk! Winnie noted the name written on his leather vest. Scythe. An image of the grim reaper popped into her head. The representation of death carried a scythe, right? That was a terrifying thought.

Pulling herself together, Winnie promised herself she would collapse into a melting ball of anxiety when she got to her car—maybe better, at home.

Someone might still see her in the parking lot.

She glanced around the bar, searching for any familiar faces.

Not spotting any, she found the courage to continue.

Scythe was a handsome, leather-clad, muscular bad boy. Winnie surreptitiously wiped the corners of her mouth in case she was actually drooling. Of course she wasn’t. She shook off her anxiety and vowed to show him.

Winnie returned to scanning the bar. She shook her hand when she realized she was rubbing her fingers together as if she were caressing his arm. Forcing herself to concentrate, she zeroed in on a staircase with another biker standing at the bottom. That had to be the way to Lucien.

Striding as purposefully as she could on those precarious heels, Winnie made a beeline for the biker.

Winnie cursed her former middle school teacher’s withering assessment of her acting skills that always rebounded into her mind at a time like this and gathered her bravado.

She shook the self-doubt from her mind and stopped in front of the guard in what she hoped was a vampish pose.

“Hi, there, tall, dark, and handsome.”

The man bristled, and Winnie realized she towered over him in the four-inch heels. “I have an appointment with Lucien.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, staring her down with even more vehemence now.

She was the worst liar ever. Winnie floundered for something to say before admitting, “You’re right. I don’t, but I need to talk to him. I don’t suppose I could sneak past you for a couple of minutes?”

Winnie bit her lip as she exuded positive vibes to get him to agree. He had to let her see Lucien.

“Not happening.”

“You didn’t even think about it,” she protested. Maybe he wanted a bribe. She fumbled with her phone wallet, opening section after section to find her money.

“You are really bad at this,” he growled.

She darted a glance at his face, hoping his attitude was softening at her incompetence. Nope. Winnie tried the truth. “I am. Look. I have a collection of rare guns I need to unload, and everyone says Lucien is the one who would buy them.”

“Give me names,” a familiar voice demanded behind her, making Winnie whirl around to face the biker she’d talked to previously.

Crap! Him again? Winnie swallowed hard.

“I’ll take care of this, Gamble.”

“Thanks, Scythe.” Gamble looked past her to monitor the crowd.

“Hi, Scythe. Thanks for coming to help.” Winnie tried to be positive.

Scythe wrapped his fingers around her biceps and headed for the door, towing her with him.

“Wait, I can’t walk that fast,” Winnie protested, teetering desperately on the stilettos.

“Why are you wearing those things?” Scythe demanded before sweeping her off her feet and carrying her.

“Ooh!” While embarrassed by the crowd who watched their progress toward the door with interest, Winnie couldn’t help but enjoy being in his powerful arms. Heaven knew no one had ever carried her books, much less her!

She sniffed his chest, savoring his manly cologne.

Were bikers supposed to smell this good?

“Stop that,” Scythe growled.

To distract him from noticing her heated cheeks, Winnie fumbled with her wallet again.

“If you try to bribe me….”

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t do that. Here, look!”

Winnie lifted her phone into his line of sight, displaying one of the photos she’d taken of her stepfather’s collection. Scythe stopped in his tracks. “That’s just the first picture. I have hundreds to show Lucien,” she assured him.

Scythe pivoted 180 degrees and headed for the staircase. Gamble stepped out of the way without a word.