“You know that’s illegal?”
My mouth tightened further. “They’re my security detail. I need to divert their attention.”
“I’m not going to lose my job just to help some rich bitch lose her guards—”
“You work for the MC here, right?” I jutted my thumb toward the seating area behind me. “I have information for them. Information I think will help them. I can’t give it to them if my guards are watching.” Of course, that was half a lie. The MC might not give a damn about some innocent women’s plight, but I was hoping they’d help just to get dirt on my brother. Boy, dirt didn’t even begin to cover it.
Almost to punctuate my comment, the doors swung open, and I didn’t have to turn around to feel the stares of the two guards who followed me around. They weren’t supposed to drink at all, but Paul and Alix knew I was, relatively speaking, a good girl. I never got into trouble, never stirred shit, so they could relax. When I went to the country club, they took it in turn to be DD, while one always got hammered on my daddy’s dime.
The bartender’s eyes cut to my security detail, and then his gaze flashed over to the guys in the MC, who were seated in that odd concoction of bike parts.
The place was half Western saloon and half parts shop. I didn’t particularly like it with its coarse wooden tables and sleek banquettes, but I didn’t have to like it, did I?
This wasn’t about to become my local haunt.
“Make it two hundred, and I’ll dose them up,” the server whispered, as he poured me another shot of vodka.
I’d have paid a grand to get Paul and Alix off my back. “Okay. Make it three shots then. I’ll double the money if, every time they order, you do the same.”
He shrugged in what I took to be agreement, then moved forward when he saw me slide some money under my empty glass. Eyes connected, we both nodded as I retreated, heading over to a corner booth. I watched as Paul took up a table at the opposite side of the room, his gaze on the door, while Alix put in an order. The bartender must have told him he’d bring their drinks over, because he soon joined Paul. I found a spot in the mirror behind all the liquor on the back wall of the bar where I could watch them without seeming like I was.
I gnawed on my bottom lip as the server poured their beer. I couldn’t see anything from over here, not in the dim lights anyway, and I hoped three shots would be enough to impair them. They were big men but, far as I knew, they only drank lager. Would three shots make them tipsy? I had to hope it would. Even better, I had to hope it would give them a thirst for more.
Once the drinks were served and Paul and Alix had sipped at them, I stopped studying them in a mirror. Though they’d pulled a face at the first sip, it hadn’t stopped them from downing the rest of their beer and, thank God, putting in another order. Tonight’s designated driver had evidently decided it was time to get hammered.
The bartender smirked at me as he filled some beer mugs for them, and I darted my gaze away from the bar just in case they thought my interest in their order was suspicious. As I watched a couple shuffling around a space that was for dancing, I learned two-stepping to Guns and Roses wasn’t impossible.
My mouth quirked up in a smile, though, as I took in the couple’s tight embrace. They looked happy, relaxed in one another’s company, and I’d admit to feeling jealous. I’d never felt like that around another person. Not even my mom, and I’d loved her more than anyone else on this planet. But trust wasn’t something you could have in my family. We were all backstabbers, myself included.
I gnawed on my lip as sentimental nostalgia, undoubtedly aided by my second shot of vodka, made me a little teary-eyed. I shouldn’t have to do what I was doing tonight, and yet, here I was, trying to get my guards drunk and all so I could speak to men who were the type of guys I actually needed protection from.
The MC brothers were loud, raucous, and rude. That much I’d seen in my forty minutes at Daytona. They drank too much, laughed too hard, and swore like sailors on coke. I didn’t like them, but they were my only hope.
There were around ten of them in the booth, and every now and then I’d let my gaze drift around the red, laughing faces, trying to figure out who was the best to approach for help.
Each time, I caught sight of the guy in the corner because everything about him was like metal to my magnet. He had his arms slung over the back of the booth on each side, and he was slouched down. Though he laughed, his eyes were alert, and twice he’d caught my gaze with his own, his mouth twitching in a smile a split second before I looked away.
He wasn’t drunk, even though I’d seen him down two bottles of beer and a couple of shots, and from the heat in his eyes, I figured he thought I was trying to work out which of the men I was going to fuck.
My stomach churned at the prospect. I knew from my own circle of friends that they’d often come here to, as they called it, ‘rough’ it. Fucking one of the Satan’s Sinners appeared to be a rite of passage in these parts, but I wasn’t here to fuck anyone. The last thing I needed was one of these bikers thinking I was here for a quickie in the restrooms.
Gah, just the notion made me scowl into my vodka.
I’d never understood the desire to have sex in a public restroom. Not only were they gross, but ugh, it was filthy and loaded with germs. I wouldn’t have sex in my bathroom, and I knew for a fact that Conchita steamed most of my quarters to keep me happy.
When a loud bray of laughter burst out from the other side of the room, I first thought it was one of the bikers. They’d been making weird noises for a while now, so it fit, but when I glanced at them, they were cutting a look in another direction—my guards.
Paul and Alix were wasted. Alix was snorting out a laugh as Paul was slapping the table with the palm of his hand as he, too, snickered at whatever inside joke they had going on.
I studied them for a few minutes, watched as they turned toward one another and began arguing over something. It was a friendly argument though, and I figured it had to do with sports. I knew they both supported the same football team and had often heard them discussing stats and the like when they were on detail.
Getting to my feet, I decided to try and make a move. The restroom was my first port of call, just to see if they noticed I’d gone. I’d taken note of the signage the second I’d taken a seat so, as I walked past them, maneuvering my way through the roughly hewn tables that were made out of slices of trees, I hitched a breath as I wondered if I’d made it.
When they didn’t snap out a hand as I brushed past them, I knew I was good to carry on with my plan.
The second I made it to the hall that led to the bathrooms, I almost crumpled as relief hit me. For a second, I just leaned against the wall, ignoring the picture frame that dug into my back as I did so. Pressing my hand to my forehead, I sucked in a breath, calmed myself down, then straightened up. As I did, I jerked in surprise.
The brother from the booth was standing there. Inches away.
Watching me.
I gulped, tense from surprise and uneasiness.
He was close. Too close. In my space, and I couldn’t move back.
He tilted his head to the side, his eyes catching mine before they drifted down to my mouth. He was big. Huge, in fact. And even though he was handsome, as handsome as the Devil himself, he was scary. But I was used to that.