Page 13 of Foxx
“You’re the shiny new toy, that’s for sure.” Libby grins at me now, motioning to the room as she passes me my glass. She wears a pale pink strapless dress, and her lips are pink and glossy too. She looks like a Barbie I had once, and she’s never not smiling.
I notice the room is quickly filling with men in cuts and women who seem to want to be near any man wearing one, though I flinch at the sight. I have to keep reminding myself I’msupposedto be here. Disciples cuts have always been a warning before now.Danger.
The space is exactly what I expected their clubhouse to be like. I’m no stranger to my brother’s club—I’ve been there many times for barbecues and other events—and this one is the same…yet different. It’s an old warehouse of sorts on the outskirts of Lakeside, and it sits at the end of a wooded drive, far back from the road and removed from any kind of community or neighborhood. It’s covered in black metal siding and has few windows.
Harleys and a few classic cars were parked along the gravel path that led up to a big overhead door. When we got here, thedoor was rolled up and Nine Inch Nails was playing through massive speakers. There were people inside and outside, smoking, drinking, and laughing as the sun set behind the field beyond the building. A big bonfire was going a few yards away, and there was another crowd gathered around it.
I look around now as the song changes to “Man in the Box” by Alice in Chains, taking in the black and white checkered tile and the long wooden bar flanking the east wall. On the black wall above the bar, graffitied in various shades of white and gray, with shockingly beautiful detail, is the infamous Disciples reaper atop the Harley, and under it…a motto.
“Ride free. Spare none.”
The seating that lines the outer perimeter of the massive room is all black leather vintage booths. They wrap around wood tables that seat six. Tables and chairs fill the middle of the open space, and I get the impression that they get pushed aside for dancing. At intervals, there’s a pool table or a dartboard along the wall where dozens of framed photos of old bike rallies are hung, and in the corner is a vintage jukebox. At the back is a massive American flag. As I take it all in, I feel a light tug on my braid, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise in defense. I spin quickly to find the kind eyes of Libby.
“Why the braids and no makeup?” She shrugs, glancing over my simple outfit as she lets go of my hair.
“I just don’t like to wear it down”—so I don’t attract pigs who might think they can touch me—“and it’s easier”—to fight someone off—“if my hair is back off my face.”
“You know what would be so hot? All that hair down and some red lipstick!” Cara, one of the other girls I’ve met tonight, pipes up. “A modern Marilyn Monroe.”
I just smile in response.
“You’re beautiful now.” Libby nudges me with the sweetest smile. “But some lipstick would be super hot.”
“Just don’t hook up with Raef. He’s been with everyone, and the girl who quit before you, Shana, she had a pregnancy scare because his huge cock broke the condom,” Cara adds with a laugh as Libby doubles over. She already seems a little drunk. “I mean, there are worse problems.” Libby giggles.
I look over at Raef. Tall, dark, and handsome, inked and muscular. He looks young, and he looks exactly the part of an all-American playboy.
I laugh with her, but I can’t help the sudden feeling that I’m being watched. I look over my shoulder to encounter the cool gaze of Aiden Foxx. It’s impossible to ignore. The urge to have my brother tie him up right now and torture him sounds pretty good, if for no other reason than to stop the way his eyes pin me where I stand. He sits at a table near the back of the room with Roz, watching me over the rim of his glass as he sips his whiskey. He’s still wearing those perfectly fitted jeans, but his flannel is gone, replaced by a simple black T-shirt under his cut. Ink covers every stretch of his visible skin, and he doesn’t look away when my eyes meet his. I can’t tell if he’s angry that I didn’t wear the dress he chose or not. Aiden Foxx is impossible to read.
“Oh no… You can forget abouthim.” Cara snorts, breaking my stare. She’s a pretty brunette with big, brown eyes, and I’d guess she’s only a few years older than me.
“I wasn’t—”
“Of course you were. He’s the ultimate prize, buthewon’t,” another girl I just met tonight, Trina, cuts in. “I’m pretty sure we’ve all tried, because there isn’t a finer looking man—”
“And he sure as sin looks like he could break a condom or two,” Cara adds.
“I’m sure he runs through women like a sewing machine,” I bite out.
The girls laugh as Trina tucks a lock of hair from her blond bob behind her ear. “Not that I’ve seen,” she offers.
The other girls shake their heads.
“That man is professional through and through,” Cara says.
“And calculated. He was a Navy SEAL sniper,” Libby tells us.
I frown, because being professional and a Navy SEAL doesn’t equate to the kind of predator I want him to be.
“A sniper?” I repeat, looking back at him. He’s speaking to a tall man in a Wretched Souls cut, though he’s not one of the ones I saw by Aiden’s bike when Nic and I were in town. The crowd is so thick I can’t tell yet if he’s here somewhere.
“Yeah, at least that’s what Roz said. He’s never spoken to me directly about anything personal,” Libby answers.
Although Aiden being a sniper doesn’t necessarily surprise me, itdoesimpress me. I grew up in a family of servicemen, and I know how brave you have to be to serve your country, especially in that kind of capacity. I had a cousin who tried to become a SEAL and didn’t make the cut. I remember him saying only one in five could even complete their training.
I have no idea how I’m going to pull off this little ruse now. Guess I’m gonna have to fake it until I make it.
I slowly sip the drink Libby brought me as Aiden turns back to his conversation with Roz. Slowly, because the drinks they make here are double shotstrong. I’m pretty sure there’s more vodka in this glass than cranberry.
