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Suspicious, she looked me up and down.
Patting my hair, I realized even though I showered, I probably had that freshly fucked glow.
“This smile on your face isn’t from that Slayer?” she asked suddenly.
“Hell no,” I lied, laying it on thick. “Fuck, no. Never,” I added for good measure.
Fuck.
Nodding, she seemed satisfied. Rage leaned back, her expression hardening slightly. “Cowgirl and Blade? That’s troubling enough, but this attack… It’s clear we’re dealing with more than just club rivalry. Someone wanted to send a message.” The gravity of our conversation deepened with her every word. “And who sent the Slayers your way in the first place?”
“I’d like to know that, too. And why? Someone has it out for me. I plan to ask Riptide as soon as I can.”
“You and Riptide, working this closely? It’s a risk, Brat. You need to be careful,” Rage warned me.
“I know,” I replied, feeling the sting of her cautionary words. “But we believe this is all connected to Viper’s murder. Someone’s trying to stir up a war between our clubs, using us as pawns. We need to uncover the truth behind this before it escalates further.”
Her gaze softened, understanding the stakes at play. “I trust you to handle this, but remember, the Slayers might not have your back the way we do. And Riptide…” she paused, choosing her words carefully. “Just make sure his intentions are as clear as yours.”
“I will,” I assured her, though my mind reeled at the complexity of the situation, balancing club loyalty, a burgeoning connection with Riptide, and the looming threat that had already brought violence to our doorstep.
“Work with Riptide if you must, but remember where your loyalty lies. Our club can’t afford distractions like him, especially not now.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” I assured her, though my head was full of thoughts of Riptide, of us. “But to uncover the truth, I might need to work closely with him.”
Rage sighed, resignation in her expression. “Just be careful, Brat. The Slayers, they’ve got their own agenda. And Riptide… he’s the worst of them. I should know. I’ve been mixed up with him before.”
I had to swallow my shock. What the ever-loving fuck? How did she mean mixed up? Jealousy rushed to my core. “What do you mean?” I asked, trying to keep my voice devoid of that suspicion.
“Just keep your eyes open,” she brushed my question off.
Her words were a reminder of the treacherous ground I was navigating, of course. And were underscored with new revelations. As I left her office, the true nature of my situation settled heavily upon me. My connection with Riptide, so unexpectedly profound, now had to be balanced against my duty to my club and the mission that lay before us. Not to mention I planned to ask him how he was mixed up with my president before.
The Roost was rocking that evening, its walls filled with the laughter and banter that only us badass biker chicks could bring. I barged through the door, still weighed down by what went down, my mind a complete mess, thinking about Riptide and the disaster we’re in.
My sisters were chilling at a table full of empty beer bottles and ashtrays. Tank, with her hair tied back in a ponytail that means business, was going all in with her plan, like she does for rides and revenge. She was the thickest and sexiest of us all, with her tatas always on display. And the meanest. First day I met her she had kicked a man’s hog clean over.
Razor caught my eye and grinned evil like, a look that spelled trouble. But I knew she wasn’t so tough. When she got drunk enough, she’d pee herself.
Like she was high on sugar, giving off crackhead energy, Pixie was looking over her shoulder. The girl was always chewing on something, whether it be gum or toothpick.
“We’re hitting the Slayers back,” Tank announced, her blue eyes alight with the thrill of the upcoming raid. “A little souvenir shopping at their expense.”
I leaned against a pool table, feeling suddenly out of place. “I’m out tonight,” I declared, trying to sound more detached than I felt. The thought of diving back into club conflicts when Riptide and I were untangling a bigger mystery seemed like a move in the wrong direction.
They reacted right away. Razor playfully wagged her eyebrows, causing her smirk to grow wider. “Skipping out for Riptide, huh? Got a soft spot for him now?”
Scoffing, I tried to mask the flutter in my stomach at the mention of his name. “Not in this lifetime,” I retorted, but the heat creeping up my neck betrayed me.
Tank chuckled, shaking her head. “Just be careful, Brat. Mixing business with pleasure, especially with a Slayer, is bad news.”
“I’m just working with him to clear our names over Viper’s death,” I insisted, my voice carrying a hint of desperation I hadn’t intended. “Nothing else.”
Their skepticism was almost tangible. “Don’t fall for him, Brat. It’s one thing to work with the enemy, another to bed them,” Pixie added, her tone serious despite the teasing undertone.
“I wouldn’t,” I lied, a lump forming in my throat.
“Well, nothing wrong with fucking him as long as you don’t catch feelings,” Razor decided.
