AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I nodded, trying to believe her. As the hours passed, bikers started to trickle in. At first, it was just a few, but soon the parking lot was filled with motorcycles. The sight brought a lump to my throat. Despite everything, bikers had shown up.
Our annual event to raise funds for breast cancer was one of our biggest, and the Hell on Heelz were out in full form, ready to charm the wallets off anyone who walked through the door. The auction was first and then the pledges, all one big party. After that we would ride tomorrow, usually in the afternoon, giving us all time to sober up.
Mudflaps, an enforcer like me, was already working the crowd. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and she was strutting around in her usual tight jeans and a tank top that showed off her impressive cleavage. Mudflaps was built like a brick shit house, all muscle and attitude. Could be my dark bookend. A lot like me, she was known for her no-nonsense approach to anyone who stepped out of line.
“Mudflaps!” I called out, catching her attention. “You scare anyone off yet?”
She grinned, winking at me. “Only the ones with empty pockets. What’s the point of charming the broke ones?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Fair enough. Keep ‘em in line.”
Next to Mudflaps was Razor, our resident speed demon. She was a brunette with a wild streak a mile wide, always itching for the next adrenaline rush. Razor lived for the thrill of the ride, and she had the scars to prove it. Tonight, she was dressed to kill in a short leather skirt and thigh-high boots, her hair spiked up in a way that only she could pull off.
“Razor, you planning on auctioning off that bike of yours?” I teased. Her custom Chopper was her pride and joy.
“Hell no,” she shot back, her eyes flashing. “But I’ll auction off a ride with me if it brings in some cash.”
Pixie, our smallest and arguably fiercest member, was next. Don’t let her size fool you. Pixie could take down a guy twice her size without breaking a sweat. She had a colorful pixie cut that matched her name and an attitude that said she took shit from no one. Tonight, she was working the bar, mixing drinks and flirting shamelessly with anyone who looked like they had deep pockets.
“Pixie, you trying to get everyone drunk before the auction starts?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Damn right,” she replied with a smirk. “Loosen ‘em up, make ‘em spend more. You know the drill, Tank.”
I nodded, knowing she was right. We had a system, and it worked. Our auction nights were legendary, not just for the cause but for the entertainment value. We knew how to put on a show.
Next up was Flame, a fiery ginger with a temper to match. She was all sass and swagger, and tonight she was decked out in a shiny dress that shimmered under the lights. Flame was the kind of woman who could charm you with a smile and then cut you down with a single word. She was working the room, her laughter ringing out as she flirted and teased.
“Flame, you behaving yourself?” I asked, knowing the answer.
She winked at me. “As much as I ever do, Tank. These boys don’t know what hit ‘em.”
Pride swelled as I looked at my sisters. We were a motley crew, each with our own strengths and quirks, but together we were unstoppable. The Hell on Heelz weren’t just a club. We were a family. Sisters. And tonight, we were going to kick ass and raise a ton of money for a good cause.
The auction kicked off with a bang, the room filling with cheers and laughter as items went up for bid. We had everything from bike parts to weekends away, all donated, and the bids were flying fast and furious. But the biggest draw were the dates the Heelz auctioned off, some of my sisters putting a night out with them up for bid. Mudflaps was up front, hyping the crowd and driving the prices higher with every shout.
Razor auctioned off her ride-along, and the bids went through the roof. Pixie was slinging drinks and winking at the bidders, making sure their glasses were never empty. Flame had the room eating out of her hand, her charm and sass turning every head. Rage kept a watchful eye, ensuring that the night stayed on track.
I took a moment to step back and take it all in. The Roost was packed, the energy high, and the money was flowing. We were doing it, making a difference, and I couldn’t have been prouder.
As the hours went by, the bids kept climbing, the laughter and cheers growing louder. We were a force to be reckoned with, and tonight, nothing could stop us.
Then I saw Boiler arrive with a very large group of Slayers, maybe all of them, his presence commanding attention. And suddenly, I knew this turnout was his doing, a sign of his commitment to making this work. Our eyes met across the crowd, and briefly, all other things disappeared. He gave me a nod, and I felt thankful.
However, we were so busy, I didn’t make my way toward Boiler, and he kept a distance. And the next day, just as planned, Bikers from different clubs rode together, united by a common cause. It was a proud moment riding with my sisters. This was what we were fighting for—a sense of community, of coming together for something bigger than ourselves. The charity run was a huge success.
After the run, we gathered back at the Roost for a celebration. The vibe was amazing, with lots of laughter and rowdy times. Boiler found me in the crowd, a determined look in his eyes.
We talked briefly. My walls still very solid. I told him I wasn’t kicking him out of the club.
Boiler stayed close, and he persisted.
“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm.
I hesitated, but then nodded. “Alright. Let’s go somewhere quiet.”
We found a secluded spot away from the noise, and I turned to face him. “What is it, Boiler?”
He took a step closer, his eyes searching mine. “I know you’re scared. I know you’ve been hurt. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, and I’m not giving up on us.”
