Page 2 of Forgiveness
“One of each, Cassie.” The cute brunette had become one of his favorite barmaids—she remembered what he drank and she left him the hell alone. All the other waitresses tried chatting him up, batting their lashes and hinting for rides on his bike and on his dick. He didn’t go for that shit. No woman had ridden on the back of his bike except for … Alicia.No fuckin’ way I’m goingthere.
“Here you go, honey. Just call me over when you’re ready for another round.” Cassie turned around and headed toward a table of men.
Flux recognized the bull riders at the table. He’d worked with all of them at one time or another. He was the one responsible to keep these guys safe once the bulls threw their asses off of them. Flux had only been seventeen the first time he’d faced a half-ton bull in the rodeo arena. As a bullfighter, his job had been to distract the animal once the bull rider was on the ground. He’d loved the rush of adrenaline and had decided that would be his career until one hot and humid day when he was nineteen years old, he met Hawk, Banger, Throttle, Hubcap, and Tank at a biker rally in Elgin, Texas. The town was just south of Johnson City, his hometown, and he’d never seen so much chrome, tattoos, and badass motorcycles as he did that weekend. After that, Flux had traded in his horse for a Harley-Davidson, and he made his way to Pinewood Springs, Colorado, to prospect for the Insurgents MC.
Flux shook his head.Damn … that seems like a lifetime ago.When his world had flipped upside down in such a horrific and unspeakable way, he couldn’t get his head on straight. He couldn’t stay still—he was restless and had to get away and keep one step ahead of the memories. He’d gone to Banger, the president, and told him he was too fucked up to be any good to the brothers. Flux wanted to go nomad, and after a unanimous vote from the brotherhood, his bottom rocker was replaced by the wordNomad. That had been six years ago, and he’d crisscrossed the country more times than he could count, but the fucking memories never went away—they were constant reminders of the guilt that ate at him all the time.
“Come on, honeycakes. Let me give you a kiss,” Chet Teel said, his Arkansas drawl irritating the hell out of Flux, but then,anythingChet did irked the fuck out of him. The bull rider and the bullfighter didn’t care too much for each other.
“You got enough women clamoring to give you a kiss—you don’t need one from me,” Cassie said as she placed a bunch of beer bottles in front of the men.
“But you’re the one I want, honeycakes.” Chet wrapped his arm around the brunette’s waist, but she spun out of it and rushed away. “I didn’t want that bitch anyway.” Chet picked up his beer and brought it to his lips.
“That’s right—you’re still trying to get lucky with Maggie,” Louie said. The other men guffawed.
“Damn right,” Chet replied, glaring at them.
Flux caught Cassie’s eye and lifted his chin. She ambled over.
“Another round?” Her gaze went to his full glass of whiskey.
“Might as well.” He jerked his head toward Chet. “If that asshole proves to be more than you can handle, let me know. I’ll take care of him.”
A soft smile turned up her lips. “Thanks, Flux, I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll be back in a few with your drinks.”
Flux watched her disappear into the burgeoning crowd and took a long drink from the neck of his beer. He was positioned in the corner of the bar and it gave him full view of the door. It was a perfect angle to watch for any signs of trouble or any hot chicks who might pique his interest.
Soon a good-looking redhead was on his radar as she made a beeline for his loner corner like a homing missile.Fuckin’ great.Flux ran a finger through the condensation along the side of his beer bottle, then put it down in front of him. The only woman he wanted to approach him was Blondie, not this pumped-up woman who looked like a typical biker groupie: too much makeup, too-small clothes, and desperation oozing out of every pore. He made sharp eye contact, shook his head no, and abruptly looked away. “Take the fuckin’ hint,sweetheart,” he muttered, refusing to look and see if she was still charging forward on her misguided quest to get her fingers wrapped around his dick.
The front door pushed open, and the small hairs on the back of his neck sprang up when he saw Blondie walk in and sway her way across the room until she stopped in front of a vintage jukebox. Her curvy hip rested against the machine while she stared at the contents. In the five nights that Flux had spent at the bar, he couldn’t remember anyone getting near the jukebox that was stocked with forty-fives. Maybe he’d just go on over and help the sexy lady make a good selection. Blondie would be an improvement to the women he’d brought back to his room the past few nights, and he had to admit that he’d love to have a few rounds with her between his sheets. If she was even ten percent as good in bed as she was sexy, he’d have hit a home run. He might even break his damn rule and invite her for another night in his bed. His one-night-only rule kept him sated—no emotions, just carnal lust. That was just the way he needed it.
All of a sudden, his radar pinged loud in the back of his head. He swung around in time to see the redhead with the fake tits sliding into his booth with a sly grin on her gloss-covered lips. Great, the Instagram queen hadn’t taken the hint. He bristled inwardly and scooted away so she wouldn’t have any doubts about his level of interest.
“Wow, nice leather.” Painted fingertips reached out and stroked his cut. “I bet that badass Harley is yours in the parking lot. Am I right?” She cocked her head to the side. “Who’s your gang?”
Irritation pricked his skin. She acted like she had him all figured out and was ready to sign up to be his old lady or some shit.Not tonight, notanynight. Flux wasn’t having it.
He caught her wrist with one hand and cleared his throat. “MCs are clubs—not gangs. You’re wasting your time. Move on and find someone else.”
Their eyes met, and then she blinked back at him as that high-glossed mouth opened and closed a few times before he let her wrist go, leaving her hand suspended in the air until it fluttered back down into her lap.
“Come on, baby,” she said, sliding closer to him. “Do you want me to play hard-to-get, is that it? I know what bikers like.” She arched her back, thrusting her tits out even further. “Don’t you like what you see?” She giggled, the sound cutting through him like broken glass.
Fuck … she’s a trashy redheaded Barbie.
“Buy me a drink and you can tell me about yourclub.”
Flux hailed Cassie over to the table with a sharp wave.
“A shot of Jack.”
The waitress shifted from foot to foot and looked at the grinning biker groupie who wanted to take a walk on the wild side that night. Cassie threw Flux a questioning look.
“She’s leaving.” He drained the last of his beer and handed it to her. “Bring me another one of those too.”
“Will do.” Cassie walked away.
The redhead huffed. “I can’t believe you! There’s not one man in here who wouldn’t kill to be with me.” She slid out of the booth.
“Yeah there is,sweetheart—me. Why don’t you peddle your wares at that table?” He pointed to Chet and the other bull riders.
“You’re a jerk—a real asshole.”
Flux stared straight ahead. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
The woman shoved the table at him and stalked away then headed straight for Chet’s.
Flux snorted and banged down the shot of whiskey.
