Page 91 of Sangre
“Yeah, I do. I just don’t like that asshole.”
“He’s really okay. You just don’t know him. It’s all good.”
“I’ll call you later.”
Sangre went over to his Harley, bitterness punching at his gut. The idea of the ass wipe spending the night at Isla’s burned deep inside him. The reaction took him by surprise since he wasn’t the type to be jealous, but when it came to Isla, everything was upside down; she got to him in ways no other woman ever had. He pulled over hard to the left lane and hammered it, moving through traffic like a falcon through the trees.
Upon arrival at the office, Sangre had reached a decision: he wouldn’t go over to Isla’s that night. Every fiber in his body wanted to, but he wasn’t sure what he’d do to Benz, and he didn’t want Isla to think he didn’t trust her. She told him she’d be working late, so he’d call her a few times, but he wouldn’t go over. Sangre switched off the engine and headed inside to meet with the company’s new client.
***
“Remember to stayclose to me. If you have to go to the bathroom, I’ll go with you and stand outside the door. You’re not wearing my patch, so the men who don’t know you will think you’re fair game, and there’ll be a lot of brothers here, and the way you look right now, there’ll be a lot of trouble if one of them messes with you,” Sangre said when they arrived at the clubhouse.
When he’d gone over to pick up Isla earlier that night, she’d greeted him in a short black skirt and a tight-fitting top that showed off her cleavage. Without missing a beat, he had her in his arms, kissing and touching her all over. His lust had been palpable; it’d filled the room. He’d taken her right there, on the floor, her legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded in and out of her until she cried out as she rode the wave of ecstasy. After a few more pumps, he followed her orgasm then rolled onto his back, tucking her close to him as they’d lain sated on the cold tile floor. Just remembering it now made him tilt her head back and crush his mouth on hers.
“Wow,” she said against his lips.
He pulled away. “Just stay close to me.”
“If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working.” She looped her arm around his waist.
“I’m just telling you like it is.” He draped his arm over her shoulder and held her close.
As they approached the club, she slowed down a bit. “There’re a helluva lot of men outside.”
“There’re a helluva lot of men period. At parties it’s usually ten men to every woman.”
“Damn. Are all the women here willing to sleep around?”
“Yeah. The women who come to biker parties usually know the score. If she doesn’t respect the brothers it can be a problem.”
Isla stopped and looked at him. “What does that mean? You guys don’tforcewomen, do you?”
Sangre shook his head. “We don’t do that shit. If a woman doesn’t want to put out, that’s her decision, but if she mouths off or shows disrespect, she gets her ass thrown out. The problems start when brothers from other MCs come. They have different rules and ideas at their clubs, so sometimes things heat up. We try and maintain order, but it doesn’t always work out. You know, no two motorcycle clubs are the same, just like no two bikers are the same. Attitude, image, and actions of all MCs shift over time, but what never changes is the basic glue that holds all clubs together—brotherhood, trust, and security.”
“Does trouble happen a lot?”
“Not a lot, but sometimes. Almost all the women who come to the parties know the score and want to have a night of wild sex, booze, and weed. Sometimes the trouble comes from brothers fighting each other. It’s the way it goes.”
“With all that testosterone and megawatts of badass attitude, I’m not surprised the guys duke it out.”
As they passed the men milling about in front, Sangre tightened his grip on her hand, pride mixed with anger rising inside him when he saw the way they looked at her. Several of them called out to him, and he raised his free arm in the air and waved his fist.
Inside, red lights lit the main room, which was thick with smoke. A greenish glow lit the bar area that was packed with men in black leather, and Sangre chuckled as he watched the prospects hustling their asses to accommodate the burgeoning crowd. It reminded him of his prospecting days and how glad he was that they were over. Music blasted and it seemed like the walls shook. Women ran their gazes over him, smiling seductively, and men blatantly assessed Isla, lust and hunger glinting in their eyes.
“Let’s go out back,” he yelled near her ear, leading her through the labyrinth of bodies.
The fresh air was a welcome relief from the scent of sweat, weed, and cigarettes of the main room. He guided Isla over to a picnic table and pulled out the bench for her.
“This is so much better,” she said, looking around the yard. “Something smells delicious.”
“Lena’s our cook and she makes the best damn food in the county. The club girls help, but she’s the one calling all the shots. We can get a plate. The table’s in the far corner of the yard.”
“Lead the way. I’m starving.” As they approached the long line, the men and women made room for him to go in front of them since he was an officer of the club. He picked up a plate and handed it to her.
“I like the special treatment you get around here.” She poked him in the stomach then leaned in close, placing her hand on the back of his neck and tugging him toward her. “You’ll have to show me around after we eat. I want to see where you live,” she said, her warm breath fanning over his neck.
He wrapped his arm around her, letting his hand drift to her ass. “I can’t wait to get you to my room.” He pinched her butt lightly then nudged her forward.
