Exquisite Danger (20 page)

My mind flashed to the clothing that his sister bought me and how much it meant to me when I realized that he understood he’d fucked up, and apologized in his own way by having her buy me some amazing outfits.

“Here we go. You ready to meet the old ladies?”

Before I could respond he was out of the car, and I had no choice but to follow him. The front door of the picture perfect home opened, and I half expected Donna Reed in all her pearl-clad glory to come stepping out. Instead, the auburn haired woman who greeted us was probably an inch or two taller than I was and blindingly attractive. She was dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and an oversized, stylish blue shirt along with Kermit the Frog socks, and she glowed with happiness. I swear she reminded me of Tawny Kitaen back when she was hot. As soon as her gaze landed on Breaker, a genuine warmth sparkled in her eyes that matched her bright smile. Her love for Breaker beamed from her like sunlight, and I wondered if that was what I looked like when I looked at Smoke.

Tears filled my eyes even as I scolded myself for acting like an emotional flake. We walked up the steps, and the woman gave me an odd look before she said to Breaker, “What did you do to make her cry?”

He actually looked panicked, and I took pity on him, not wanting to get his wife upset by a misunderstanding. “It’s okay, he didn’t do anything. Smoke was just acting like an asshole earlier.”

I winced as the words poured out and waited for the stare that would silently ask if I was mental.

Clear, loud laughter poured out of the redhead, and there was nothing but understanding humor shining in her eyes. “Oh, honey, they’re all assholes. No wonder he was so pissy when he pulled up a few minutes ago. Come on inside, everyone’s on the back porch.”

She ushered me in, and I noticed she didn’t try to shake my hand or touch me in any other way. The home was as pretty on the inside as outside, decorated in bright, modern colors, and I could faintly hear women’s voices coming from somewhere deeper in the house. The redhead turned to me with a smile. “My name’s Cathy, and I’m a friend of your sister’s.”

“Hi, I’m Swan,” my voice faltered, “I’m…I think I’m still Smoke’s old lady.”

She cut her gaze to Breaker and frowned. “What’s going on?”

Breaker sighed and rubbed his face. “Young love between a stubborn woman and her pigheaded man. Not that we would know what that’s like. They’re good, trust me, Smoke is totally pussy-whipped.”

With a giggle and a fond look at her husband, Cathy shook her head. “I’ve been waiting for years for Smoke to find the right woman. It’ll be nice to see someone stand up to him, but I’ll warn you now—that man is stubborn.”

Breaker made a disgruntled noise. “I’m going down to the basement. Try not to fill her head with too much bullshit, and send Smoke down when you’re done with him.”

“Prick,” Cathy said in a low whisper as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

They exchanged a long, lingering kiss that made me feel like I was intruding on their privacy. When their lips finally parted, Breaker whispered something in her ear that made her laugh, and she smacked his thick bicep before he let her go. She whispered something in his ear and giggled again when he growled a response. I wished Smoke was here. Pathetic but true. I felt so lost without him. I realized I was being very, very melodramatic and oversensitive, but I couldn’t help it. Considering Smoke was my second boyfriend—maybe my first, because I couldn’t count a guy who used me to cover up the fact that he was gay as a true relationship—I was way behind the curve ball on experience in a romance and dealing with new people in general.

Cathy smiled at me and said in a cheery voice, “Come on, honey. I’ve got us set up in the solarium and we have lots, and lots of booze to drown your sorrows.”

“Thanks.”

I trailed after her as she led me through the lavish home and into a solarium filled with plants in delicate, ornate pots. There was a comfortable seating area with a low glass table loaded with food and a rolling cart filled with alcohol and mixers. Overhead fans kept the room cool, and the vast windows were tinted enough that it cut down on the sun’s glare.

Two other women sat around the table while the third was mixing a cocktail at the small bar on the other side of the room, while talking with Smoke. They were leaning close together, and Smoke had a smile on his face as he looked at the pretty blonde who grinned up at him. My jealousy began to roar to the surface. I managed to choke it back down after I noticed the large diamond ring on the other woman’s finger as she poured some champagne into the crystal flute sitting in front of her, which contained what I assumed was orange juice. That didn’t mean I was keen on the way she casually touched Smoke—not in the least—but I managed not to launch myself at her and rip her hand off his arm.

Jesus, I had to get a fucking grip before I started attacking any woman who even looked at Smoke.

Smoke seemed to sense my gaze on him. He quickly scanned the room until he saw me standing in the doorway, staring at him and the woman now sipping her drink and studying me with dark hazel eyes. She was a cute blonde, but not a threat. My gaze focused on her hand that appeared to brush against Smoke’s firm ass and my fists clenched.

My attention was taken from her when Smoke crossed the room in three big strides, then lifted me by my waist to give me a devastating kiss that left me a little flushed by the time he released me. That delicious warmth curled through me, but I tried to not be distracted from my anger by his sudden demonstration of affection.

All too aware of the women watching us, and wanting to put on a united front, I reached up and buried my hands in his curls, tightening my grip enough that it must have stung as I whispered, “We’re gonna have a talk, later.”

His smile faded, but he nodded and leaned forward, forcing me to gentle my grip on his silky curls as he rubbed his nose over mine. “Later, when I can properly spank your round ass. Love it when your skin is all red and warm.”

I snarled at him, but he laughed—the bastard—and gave me another gentle kiss before he turned me to face the room and wrapped me up in the warmth of his strong arms.

“I gotta go handle some business, but I wanted to introduce you to my old lady, Swan.”

They all squealed and started talking at once, each expressing how happy she was to meet me. As I studied their faces, the pretty black woman in jeans and a red t-shirt, the blonde with dimples to match her cute smile who’d been talking with Smoke, and a dark-skinned brunette with full, red, painted lips, I tried to spot something that would tip me off as to their true intentions. I was pretty sure they were friendly. Still, my normal—or was it abnormal—reserve made me hang back.

In a stark contrast to their cheerful greetings, my hello was rather cold.

Smoke kissed my temple then released me. It took a great deal of effort not to cling to him, but when he whispered, “Remember your mission,” I found the strength to let him go without too much pouting.

Cathy, who seemed to be a born hostess, gestured to a vacant chair, and I gratefully sank into its padded surface, nervous now that I was alone with these unfamiliar people. The other women arranged themselves around the table as the pretty black woman introduced herself as Sheena, the blonde as Alisha, and the woman with the full red lips as Bettie. Then Alisha poured shots for us and brought them to the table, handing me one then passing the rest out. As I studied the clear liquid that I was pretty sure was vodka, I slumped into the seat, worrying about Smoke while they introduced themselves. I was so nervous my answers were only one or two words.

The other women must have been talking to me for a bit before Cathy tried to get my attention. “Swan?”

I jerked, almost spilling my drink, and looked up to find them all watching me with confusion. “Sorry, my mind is elsewhere. Please forgive me for being rude. Thank you so much for going to all this effort on my behalf.”

“What’s bothering you?” Alisha asked in a soft voice. I couldn’t tell if her concern was genuine or faked.

“I’d bet it’s that six foot four package of trouble downstairs,” Cathy said with a soft laugh. “Smoke said you were very new to the MC lifestyle, Swan.”

“You could say that,” I said with a sigh, trying to get my mind back on track. I should have been the one asking the questions here, but I was simply overwhelmed and tense. Something was tickling my senses, but I couldn’t say exactly what it was. Maybe it was just my unease with being in a new place with new people.

“Now,” Sheena said in a low, smooth voice while toying with one of her shoulder length dreadlocks, “why is your man being a fucktard? We’ve all been in the MC lifestyle for a long time now, and we might be able to give you some advice on living with a biker. They’re pissy bastards, but they’re also some of the best men you’ll ever come across.”

My mind wanted to lay out my problems for them and hope they had an answer, but I didn’t trust them. I felt like I’d somehow be betraying Smoke if I talked about out private life, so I settled for the obvious. “Sweet butts.”

A collective sigh came from the table and more than one woman lifted her glass and drank.

Cathy leaned over and squeezed my leg, “Don’t let those bitches and their useless drama get to you.”

“Fuck ’em,” Bettie said with a great deal of heat in her voice. “When Frame and I first got together they tried to rip us apart, jealous that I’d managed to get a man they considered theirs.”

“Frame? Is that his umm….road name?”

Alisha grinned, “Yep. Don’t ask how he got it. You really don’t want to know.”

I almost asked anyway, then remembered the fucked up ways these bikers earned their names. “Understood.”

With a sigh Sheena sat forward and refilled her shot glass from the bottle of clear liquor on the table. “I don’t know how much experience you’ve had with MCs, but sweet butts will always,
always
be a part of your world. Like cockroaches, as soon as you get rid of one, another will take her place. We ignore them because they really aren’t worth our time, and we know our men are faithful. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of couples in our clubhouse where the man fucks anything that moves, but it’s their business how they want to live their lives. Personally, Oak is my old man, my husband, and I let him know that if he screwed around on me I’d super glue his balls to his asshole. Some guys would have told me to fuck off and gone right on taking advantage of the free pussy, but Oak isn’t like them, and I trust him.”

There was something about Sheena’s expression that caught my attention, and it snapped me out of my funk as I remembered the real reason I was here, and it wasn’t to bitch about boys. Cupping my face in my hands, I took a deep breath to center myself. If someone here was a traitor it might help if they saw me as a weak woman, someone unsure about her relationship and vulnerable. It might make them slip up. Okay, so maybe I
was
unsure and vulnerable, but I could use that to my advantage. I looked up and found all the women watching me sympathetically.

“I want to trust Smoke, I do, but he…he yelled at me. Embarrassed me in front of other people. In front of the slut who was trying to shove her way into our room with her two skanky friends.”

“Ohhhh,” Bettie sighed as she refilled my glass. “That sucks.”

Cathy frowned at me and sat back on the couch next to Alisha. “Which sluts?”

I rattled off the description of Slut #1 and Slut #2, then said the name Cyclone.

At the mention of her, all of the other women hissed with displeasure. The sound was so odd, like I was in the middle of a roomful of angry cats, that I couldn’t help but laugh. It was funny, or at least what passed for funny to my alcohol-hazed brain. Realizing I was drinking on an empty stomach, I began to dig into the snack-type foods spread out before us. My hunger had returned with a drunken vengeance. The women all told me horror stories about Cyclone thinking she owned every man in the clubhouse. Alisha told me that on one of her infrequent visits to the clubhouse, she’d had the displeasure of glimpsing Cyclone in the middle of a group of bikers who were all jerking off on her face. When they came, she looked like a glazed donut.

I gagged and eyed the chocolate croissant in my hand, suddenly nauseous. I mean if that’s your thing, awesome, but the germs…I’d bet she didn’t screen those vile ass men for diseases before they shot one out in her face. “Fucking nasty.”

“Totally,” Sheena agreed. “I had to beat that bitch’s ass until she got the message to stop messing with my man.”

Looking back to Alisha, then Sheena, I took a bite of my cookie. “I thought the old ladies didn’t come to the clubhouse? That you uh...didn’t like to fight?”

“Girl,” Bettie said with a husky laugh, “We don’t go to the clubhouse because the sweet butts are the younger guys’ problem. For the most part, they don’t fuck with us and we don’t fuck with them. For some, it’s the thrill of bad boy cock. For others, it’s what they like to do. For yet others, it’s a way for them to try and get as much from a man as they can before he moves on. Or, as one bitch who tried to fuck my husband right in front of me said, ‘guilt-free pussy’.”

I made a little growling noise that was echoed around the room by the other women.

Huh, guess I wasn’t the only woman who had a possessive streak that bordered on crazy.

Nodding at me and what I was sure was my disgusted expression, Bettie continued. “The fact that those transient women practically have the run of the place is the younger guys’ fault. They need to learn to deal with their whores, not rely on other women to keep their sluts in place. I’m the fucking old lady of the Road Master. I’m not some fuckin’ madam who’ll keep their sluts in line, and they know better than to involve me in their shit. They do and my old man’ll have a word about respect. They don’t like it? That’s their fuckin’ problem.”

“They also know better than to mess with Breaker,” Cathy added in a slightly slurred voice. She’d had three drinks while I’d been here, and her lightly freckled cheeks were rosy. “And what Sheena said is true. Our guys, while scary as hell, are more than capable of taking care of themselves, don’t care enough about the sluts to deal with them. They’re hangers-on, bitches that just go in and out of the free-pussy-revolving-door of the clubhouse. Sad but true, these women really don’t matter all that much to the men, so they don’t see them as a real threat. And the older guys aren’t going to waste their time babysitting skanks. So, until the younger guys man the fuck up and take care of their business, we’re just staying away from the clubhouse other than for rides and family events.”