Furore (The Night Skulls MC #1)(20)

Perla gasped. “Do tell.”

“There’s nothing to tell. They are not as hot as you think they are.” I scratched my neck at the blatant lie. “What makes you think I’ll be interested in a biker anyway?”

“Maybe you’re not, but your vagina is.”

“She told you that over the phone?”

She laughed at my snarky joke, most likely because she was tipsy. Nobody laughed at my jokes. “She doesn’t need to. Every vagina is interested in a biker.”

There was a time when my heart leapt and my sex clenched every time I heard a motorcycle roar. Ty rode a bike everywhere, even to school. While his father was a member of the Night Skulls here—and died in that fire—Ty never belonged to an MC or had a cut, but he rocked leather jackets and rode like he did. There was nothing that took the edge off for me like when we used to meet outside of San Francisco—so no one we knew would see us—and he took me on his motorcycle and rode for hours across California.

Now, the mention of bikers brought heartache, and every bike I saw was disappointed anticipation followed by squashed hope because Tirone wasn’t on it. “Well, mine needs to do something more vital and far less attractive. Excuse me, ladies. I’m glad Mrs. Williams isn’t here.”

Their giggles followed me as I made my way to the bathroom. After I was done, I decided I’d stay for one more drink and then go home. I was a fish out of water here, taking a part in a scene I only read about in books. Talking to some stranger in order to hopefully get picked up at a bar was never my plan. I was only here for the booze that would make me tired enough to go straight to bed. But the girls seemed to have other plans, and I had no intention to be included in them.

They were still talking boys when I returned, shooting gazes at the mystical biker, willing him to look their way, but he never turned his head.

“Do you remember that sophomore kid that rode a Harley to school? That boy is yummy.”

Laura was talking to Perla, but it was me who responded, my heart eaten in flames of rage and jealousy. “Wisely. His name is Tirone Wisely. Should we really be talking about students like that?” They shouldn’t be talking about him like he was a piece of meat. They shouldn’t be talking about him at all.

“C’mon. No one is listening,” Perla laughed. “Besides, he doesn’t go to our school anymore.”

“They say he’s slept with the entire class within five weeks. The fuck?”

“Can you blame them? He’s so gorgeous. Another few years, and I’d happily let him spread my legs and eat—”

“I’m going to get some air!” I said, louder than I should have. “It’s getting too hot in here.” I moved as fast as I could away from the table, and then tears wet my lashes.

The humid air hit my skin as I tried to even my breath. It felt like my lungs were going to crash and my heart was going to burst. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard women or girls talk about how sexy Ty was or the things they’d let him do to them. It wasn’t the first time I had to eat shit, keep my mouth shut about it and act like I wasn’t jealous or hurt over it. It was one of the many prices I was paying for being in a secret, forbidden relationship, but tonight I couldn’t bear it anymore.

I came here to get my mind off things, off him, for once, but this night kept getting worse. God, I wished I’d smoked. I needed to burn something instead of burning myself.

My eyes rolled heavenwards. “When will it end? All the pain and fear and loneliness, when will it end?”

I wiped under my eyes, convinced I should cancel that last drink and go home now before the night got any worse. Storming inside, I didn’t reach the door before I hit a human tank. It was the MC guy the girls were horny for. I didn’t know what he was built of, but it wasn’t flesh and bones like the rest of ordinary humans. His chest was so solid I felt as if I hit an unmovable surface. An exasperated huff streamed out of my lungs as I held my hands out in a rough apology.

“It’s my bad, doll. Had too many in there,” he drawled in a Southern accent, chuckled and went on his way.

Southern accent? Night Skulls cut? Did he know Furore?

I stood there for a few moments, following him with my gaze. His cut only said Texas. Should I ask him if he was from Houston? Should I just ask straight if he knew Furore?

What if he did? Who cared if a random man I met at a bar knew him? What would that piece of information be of any good to me? I shouldn’t care about bad Laius Lazzarini in any way whatsoever. Not even as a student because he never really wanted to be.

But what were the odds of having a Night Skull from Texas at a San Francisco bar on the night I was in?

Before my head rambled any further, the biker straddled his motorcycle and another pulled over by his side at the parking lot. My eyes tightened at the newcomer. I recognized that helmet.

Taking a closer look at the Harley, I gasped silently. As the biker took off his helmet, and his dark brown hair fell off his forehead, my heart skipped a beat.

“Ty,” I slurred, shuddering. “H-how?”

My head spun with the shock and vodka. I thought he’d left San Francisco. I thought he’d taken off with his family. But he was here. All this time, Tirone was in the city, and he didn’t even bother saying anything.

“What the fuck?” I hiccupped through the tears.