“Ah, bred in your blood, huh?”
“I feel like that. Even in quiet rooms, I’m constantly humming tunes in my head. If I didn’t have music, I’d feel like I’d lost a part of my body.” She swirled the beer bottle on the table, her eyes watching it spin and twist. “What’s bred in your blood?”
The question threw me a little, but the answer slipped out without needing any thought. “The club.”
“Why?” Her eyes looked up at me, meeting mine head on—something I’d found people rarely did when speaking to me. I didn’t know if it was that they were afraid or whether they thought it was disrespectful to do so, but it pissed me off. They said the eyes were the pathway to the soul, and I firmly believed just that. How was I supposed to read someone, who they were, what they stood for if I couldn’t see into their eyes?
“Why?” I repeated.
“Yeah, why?” She stood firm on her question, and I admired the way she never wavered.
“My father was the National President back in Aussie before he moved here and started the chapter in Troy. Brothers by Blood has twelve chapters just in the States, and men came from all over to join his club. They uplifted their families, left towns that they’d lived in since they were born just so they could follow his lead.” My father was a great man. Well-known. Well-respected. Well-loved. He would lay his life down for his brothers and their families, and simply because of that, people lined up to do the same for him. My father had led the club with an iron fist, and at times could be so hardheaded it was infuriating. But he had more heart than anyone I’d ever met. He never saw it as a weakness but as a strength.
“Ah, the accent!”
I smirked. “Yeah, haven’t ever spent much time back in Australia, but I guess growing up and listening to my dad, the twang stuck a little.”
“He sounds like an amazing man.” She smiled.
“He is…” I paused. “What does your father do?”
She laughed. “You tell me, and we’ll both know.”
I didn’t push. It was obvious a subject that we were not ready to approach as of yet. Maybe one day.
While it was hard to picture Harmony as a club whore, I could see why the men would gravitate toward her. Harmony was easy to talk to. She was smart, beautiful, and independent. She didn’t throw her tits in your face or bend over and beg you to fuck her like most club girls. No, she was sexy in a different kind of way. The girls we had back home were nothing like her. They were leeches of the worst kind. Always after something more than you were willing to give—your patch, your heart, your child. I’d seen more than one man fall into a pregnancy trap. While all club girls were expected to be on more permanent contraception, it was our job to make sure we still wrapped that shit up. But a man is never one hundred percent on his game. Shit happens.
Harmony wasn’t made to be a club girl. She was definitely Old Lady material, and I was going to make her see that.
Chapter Eight
HARMONY
“You play guitar?” Kit asked with a squeeze of my thigh. It was getting late. A lot of men had found their women for the night and had taken things to the bedrooms or a quiet corner. Kit had barely touched me throughout the night, other than a hand at my back to direct me around the room or a hand on my bare thigh. And it wasn’t to say I hadn’t tried. I was beginning to wonder whether he actually wanted me, and if he didn’t, why he was demanding my presence for the entire night.
There was only a small group of us left—a couple of Kit’s men, including Tally, who had taken quite a shine to Kat, Optimus and Chelsea, who were all but screwing on the couch opposite us, and Blizzard and Slider, who had come in after their shift at X-Rated.
Chelsea piped up from her space on Optimus’ lap. “She does! She’s really good, too.”
Kit gave me a small shove. “Go get your guitar,” his voice was stern and left no space for argument. I rolled my eyes and retrieved my guitar from my room, throwing the strap over my shoulder and strumming at it as I walked down the hallway.
“Play ‘Me and My Broken Heart,’” Chelsea asked solemnly. I didn’t miss the way her eyes flicked to Optimus. The look was meaningful, and something played out between them silently.
The song was Chelsea’s number one request, secretly one of my favorites too. There were no objections, and everyone sat quietly with their eyes on me. I didn’t play for the men very often. Music was a large piece of my life, but one I kept very separate from my club life.
Kit’s fingers tapped the arm of the couch in time with the song. His eyes never deviated from me, always watching, studying, like there was something he was waiting for.
I closed my eyes. Losing myself in the rhythm of the music was one of my favorite parts of playing. It allowed me to feel the lyrics. If I could sense what the person was trying to express when they wrote the song, it made it all that more powerful, more intimate.
As I hit the pre-chorus of the song, my eyes shot open wide when I heard a harmony coming from one of the men. Mix, one of Kit’s men, began to sing along with me. I watched as he sat forward and started tapping out a drum style beat on the small wooden coffee table in front of him. I grinned as I met Mix’s eyes, and we both belted out the chorus. I couldn’t stop smiling when the song was finished, and I put my guitar down. Mix reached over and offered me his fist which I bumped and then exploded just like the way Tally had taught me.
“Girl, your voice is incredible,” Mix complimented.
I blushed and sat back on the couch. Kit slipped his arm behind me and cradled my waist, pulling me tightly against his body. The most affection he’d shown all night since our hallway encounter.
“Thanks. I’m at the college here studying music. Mainly writing and playing, but I sometimes sing, too.”
“I’ve heard you play before, but nothing like that. It was like you were in another world,” Slider said, staring at me in awe.
“Thanks,” was all I managed, the compliments all making me want to hide.
Kit’s lips brushed my ear. “Which room’s yours?”
I pointed toward the hallway that led to the club girls’ rooms. We all had individual rooms downstairs, easy for the men when they needed us. The brothers who lived at the clubhouse were in the rooms upstairs.
“I’ll meet you there in five,” he whispered for my ears only and tapped my side twice. I sat forward and gripped my guitar.
“Night all.”
Slider smiled at me. “You going to bed alone, Harmz? Need someone to keep you warm?” I cringed. Saying no to a Brother was a big no-no unless we felt like the situation was harmful or we felt unsafe. Target’s little performance the other day didn’t go unnoticed by Optimus, but in the end, he had agreed that my refusal was valid.
“She’s fine,” Kit snapped. Slider held up his hands in surrender, both of us a little surprised by his sharp tone. Kit turned to me and flicked his head. “Go.”
I nodded quickly and hustled down the hall to my room. Leaving the door ajar, I proceeded to strip off my top and skirt. After watching Kit all night, the way he spoke and controlled the room and his men, I was more than ready for him to do the same to me.