Reign (Sin City Outlaws #1)(58)

A motorcycle cuts in front of me and turns down a dark alley next to the casino’s valet. Biting my cheek, I follow the motorcycle. He leads me into the shadows of the casino, where a dozen motorcycles are parked. This must be where the club resides.

I watch the guy park in the garage behind the casino and head into a building.

My back starts to sweat, my hands gripping the steering wheel. I know being here is beyond dangerous. I shouldn’t be here. It’s suicide if I’m recognized. Jesus, look at me. Seems like weeks ago I was pissing myself just going to a party that was potentially unlawful.

Now, I’m about to walk into a notorious motorcycle club. Willingly putting myself in danger, and accepting I can’t do a thing about it if I get caught. Zeek is changing me, and I didn’t even realize it.

I just need to go in, find Zeek, and make things right. Then, I can get out of there. Losing him, it will be my fault. The things I feel for him, they may never come again. I’ll be that old lady with her cats.

I shiver at the thought.

Stepping out of my Jeep, the music from the club tunes out the night of Vegas. A large man in a suit stands guard at the door, but has his back turned talking to some girl.

Taking shallow breaths, I sneak in the door but can barely see in front of me it’s so packed.

Lowering my head, I push my feet to move forward. I peer under my lashes every so often, trying not to make eye contact. It’s a place of sex and sin, and I’m sticking out like a sore thumb in my jeans and blue hoodie.

Risking a glance up, some girl in skull pasties and leather chaps hangs off a man clinging to the wall. Stepping past her, she offers me a joint, blowing the smoke right into my face.

“Mmm. I’d like that one,” the man growls, grabbing onto her backside. Quickly, I look down and quicken my pace.

What the hell was I thinking coming in here? My heart is beating so fast I may have a heart attack.

Finally stepping into the main part, a bar comes into view, the blonde from the other night slinging drinks to random people. Jealousy comes to a full rage, and I want to slam her face into that beer bottle littered counter.

It’s like a bar, but everyone knows everyone. And it’s a bunch of bikers.

A circle is formed in the main area, people yelling and cheering. My brows arch curiously. Being only five foot three inches, I squeeze through the circle until I’m up front where the main action is.

My heart stammers, and I can’t breathe. There’s some guy on his knees, his face bleeding profusely. He’s looking up in a daze, as if he’s barely with it. Following his line of sight, I feel everything blur around the outer edges of my vision.

The sounds echo and become fuzzy.

Zeek is bouncing on the heels of his feet, a look of madness etched into his face. His hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead, his head lowered. His dark eyes are sharp and piercing the man before him. His cut and shirt are missing, displaying his chiseled abs, a bloody handprint smeared across his chest.

“Fucking finish him!” someone screams from the back. Machete hands Zeek a blunt. Holding it between his lips, Zeek balls his right fist which glints with brass knuckles. Blood is smeared and spattered all over them.

A throaty sound leaves my mouth and, as if Zeek could hear it above all the chaos, his eyes meet mine. Hard, sharp eyes flash with vulnerability as they hold mine. He looks like a monster, a savage beast ready to strike his prey.

This is the man I’m falling for.

Taking the blunt from his lips, he blows a puff of smoke into the air.

He tosses his hair out of his line of sight, his chest rising rapidly as he pins me with a look I’ll never forget. Then he slams his fist into the side of the guy’s head.

Turning quickly, I shove through the crowd yelling in Zeek’s favor, and I run.

Finally reaching the door, the fresh air hits my lungs like a storm. Taking a moment to calm myself and catch my breath, my upper arm is suddenly gripped.

“I thought that was you.” Following the hand on my arm, I find that Dolly girl. She’s dressed in leather and lace, looking like an expensive hooker.

“I was just leaving.”

“What’s wrong, honey, get a reality check?”

Pulling my arm from her hand, I make my way toward my Jeep.

“You don’t belong here!” she yells, following me. “You’re not our kind.”

Ignoring her, I keep walking. I clearly don’t belong here; that much is obvious. Hearing her say it doesn’t make it any more, or less, true.

“I’m talking to you, bitch!” Suddenly, two hands land on my back and I’m shoved forward. Barely catching myself before I face-plant, I turn around quickly.

“Don’t touch me,” I seethe.

“Or what?” She shoves me again. “You come around Zeek again, I’m going to do way more than shove you.” Just hearing his name leave her mouth makes me lose it.

Fisting my hand, I slam it into her face. When my knuckles make contact with her mouth, a loud crack sounds and she flies backward. Blood instantly pours from her mouth. I never was one to catfight; I get mine in first, and it ends pretty quickly.

“You broke my tooth!” she cries. “Get her! Look what she did!” Her lip is split all to hell, her front tooth jagged.

Looking up at who she’s talking to, I realize at some point during our altercation a small circle formed around us.