Wow. My dad is the President of the whole of the Snakes Henchmen Charters all over the country. He's the guy on top, the big man. I can't imagine the pressure he's under every day.
After showering last night, I ate a salad, because that's all I could stomach due to feeling sick with nerves and excitement, and then fell asleep. I slept for hours. I haven't slept that long in a good while. I woke this morning, showered, ate toast, got dressed in black jeans, and a short-sleeved, black button-down shirt, pulled on my boots and leather jacket – not that it's needed in this heat – jumped on my bike and rode over here before I lost my nerve.
All I have to do is make these people think I'm just like every other woman who hangs around them. I wouldn't say stupid, but I don't want them to know just how strong I am. They'll find that out soon enough.
The young prospect making his way over to the gate is handsome in a rugged kind of way. Not my type, but handsome enough. “Can I help you?” He asks. I look at his almost clear cut, he has a road name already. Tiger.
Bikers and their silly nicknames. Fucking big kids, the lot of them.
I look at him and smile my most innocent, flirty smile. “Hi,” I slip my jacket off slowly. Teasing him a little. I know how to work men. They all like a little tease, a little flesh. If the man is dumb enough he'll tell you anything. I was taught years ago by the man who made me the woman I am today to always change your attitude to adapt to any situation. A little like a chameleon.
My arms are now bare, my cleavage is showing enough to get his mind on my tits and what they might look like under this pretty black lace bra, the edges showing. “I'm here because I heard you guys were looking for new girls?”
Total bullshit. But this is an MC, they're always looking for new club whores.
“Is that so?” He's not even looking at my face, his eyes are sliding up and down my body. I have a good figure, slim with curves in all the right places, my tits are a nice handful, and a bubble butt most women would have to pay good money to achieve. Conceited? Probably, but I've worked damn hard for this body, I have every right to be proud of it.
“Have I got it wrong?” I fake confused innocence. “Oh, damn. My friend told me... I'm sorry. I'll go.” I turn to walk away, hoping he'll stop me.
He does.
Wait!” Yes! With a smile, I turn to face him again, acting like I'm this innocent but confident young woman. “There's always room for new girls. Especially...” He looks me up and down again. Pig. He'd fuck me right now if I gave him even the tiniest hint that I wanted it. Men like him usually just take it. But, as crazy as it sounds, he doesn't look like the type of guy who'd force me to do that. “Someone who looks like you.”
“Does that mean you'll let me inside for an interview?” I smile at him excitedly. God, I feel like a slut, but I'll do whatever I have to, to get inside this damn place and find what I'm looking for.
He tips his head back and laughs loudly. Is this motherfucker making fun of me? “Oh, doll, we don't give whores interviews. You shake your tits and ass, Prez likes you, you get the gig.”
Sounds like a fucking interview to me, dickhead.
But I don't say anything to him, I just nod my head and smile sweetly.
“Come on then, little biker whore.”
Cunt!
He opens the gates as I climb on my Harley and start it up. He waves me through while pointing to a place where I can park next to at least five other bikes. I do, and he tells me to walk through the doors and I'll find myself in the bar of the clubhouse. I'm to ask for Tammy, she'll show me what I have to do. He wishes me luck if you can believe that.
God this is it. I'm going to finally come face to face with the man who created me after fifteen years of wondering.
Can I really do this?
Is he even here?
I can't think these things right now, I've waited too long to back out now. If he's not here I'll wait until he is.
Deep breath.
Here goes.
“Who's the chick? And how the hell did she get in here?” I ask Jett.
The brunette that's just walked into the bar of our clubhouse is beyond fuckin' hot. I haven't seen an ass that hot in many a year. She's got a body like an hourglass. She's beautiful in every sense of the word. So fuckin' perfect. God, what I wouldn't do for an hour with that.
And again, I'm thinking about things I shouldn't. I don't even know her and I'm already imagining what she'd look like with my kid in her belly. How utterly fuckin' ridiculous is that? I don't even know this girl.
Fuck. I've got serious fuckin' issues.
But aside from that, the point is, no one is supposed to be able to gain entrance to our clubhouse without going through one of its patched members first. Fucker manning the gate let her in because she's a hot piece of ass! I'll kill the little fucker.
“No idea. But she's fuckin' hot.” Hot is an understatement.
I watch her walking toward the bar, her ass snug in her tight jeans. She's wearing a leather jacket. She could almost pass for a biker chick. Almost. If it wasn't for the fact it's so very obvious she's a whore, she'd almost pass.
Is she a whore here looking to get in on the action? Or is she something else?
I don't like to judge a woman without knowing her, but women only come here to be part of the clique of whores we keep around here. She'll be one every guy here will be fighting over. Just like the little slut from last night.
I watch Tammy, our bartender, Red's old lady, and the woman in charge of the girls here and over at our strip joint, Pretty Pussy, point over to where Jett and I are drinking at a table to the left of the bar.
The girl's eyes lock with mine and a smirk creeps across her face. She likes what she sees. I most definitely like what I see. I'm a fuckin' magnet for the new girls. And I don't mind breaking them in, let me tell you.
“She's comin' over.” He's right, she is.
I wonder what a girl like her is really doing in a place like this. If she was here to join the whores she'd be talking to Tammy, not walking over to Jett and me like she owns the world. She has a lot of confidence, I can tell by the way she's practically gliding over to us.
I love a girl with confidence. I can tell by the way she's walking that she'd be dynamite in the bedroom. She'd keep me on my fuckin' toes out of it as well, I can tell.
“Dude, I'm calling dibs.”
“What are you, twelve?” I whisper-hiss in his direction. Fuckin' idiot.
“Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt, but the girl over there told me that I'm in the right place to find the Snakes Henchmen– well, obviously as this is your clubhouse – and that you guys are part of the MC.” Her eyes linger on my patch. The entwined snakes with the diamond eyes and pistol smoke rising from their mouths.
“That depends on who's asking?” Jett says.
“I think it's pretty obvious from your patches that you're definitely part of this club. I'm looking for your president.”
“For?” I ask while leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest. Her eyes widen a little at the size of my biceps. I get that reaction a lot from women. Even more so when they see the size of my dick.
“It's private.”
“Can't help you, darlin',” Jett says with a smirk on his face. “No one gets near the Prez without my say so. Although,” he snakes his hand up the back of her leg, “I could be persuaded to help.”
“You have exactly two seconds to take your filthy biker hands off me before I break your fucking neck!”
I have to stifle the laughter trying to erupt from me. No one speaks to Jett that way. No one. Not if they want to live, at least. This woman has balls, I'll give her that. She's probably terrified right now, but I gotta hand it to her, walking in here and standing up for herself. She has no clue what kind of men we really are. For all she knew Jett could have been the kind of man who'd smack her around and teach her a lesson.
He's not. Luckily for her.
She's a fiery
one. I like it. God, I've been waiting for a woman like her to walk in this place for years.
Jett holds up his hands, a smirk on his face. “Feisty. I like it.”
“I just need to know if Shepard is here, or if he'll be in soon?”
“Why don't you take a seat and tell us what you want with Shepard.” I watch her eyeballing Jett. She doesn't trust him. She's right not to. He's a good man, but a dangerous one. Not that he'd hurt a woman. None of us would. That's not what this MC is about. We have rules we live by. Never hurt women, children, or the innocent. “I'm Jett, this is Tank.” He points to me.
“And you are?” I ask when she fails to say anything.
She doesn't answer me, she turns to Jett, her eyes widening in realization. “You're Shepard's son, aren't you?” He narrows his eyes at her. Okay, the girl is a stranger, but everyone knows Jett is Shepard's son. Our VP. He shouldn't be surprised. “You're Tate, aren't you?”
Okay, that she shouldn't know. Both Jett's and my eyes bug out. No one calls Jett by his given name. No one has since he was fourteen. Hell, I don't think there's more than a handful of people outside this club who know his given name.