Page 21 of Bleed Me

Was it harsh? Even brutal to my senses? Maybe, but you can’t ride a roller coaster that’s only half on the tracks. It will crash and burn. I had to be secure and buckled—grounded to my new life—for it to work.

With that, I did my best to swallow forming tears and surrendered and slowly bobbed my head while closing my eyes. I let Dagger take the lead. I may not have had much of a choice, but that was the point. The elder men in my life knew, without a doubt, if I did have a choice, I’d be runnin’ straight back to Delilah.

“Yes, sir,” I told Dagger.

Approvingly, he nodded while slowly releasing me. “Now, this is a very serious question.”

My upper lip started sweating as he took a step back, staring me down. What was coming? Some sort of initiation?

Dagger smirked. “What’s your poison, kid?”

I almost collapsed to the floor, thankful I wasn’t going to earn an initiation biker tribal scar in front of everyone while they sang some sort of biker song from the eighties. I was clueless about the life of a one-percenter.

Tuck and I had partied many times, but it was more like getting as drunk as we could, as fast as we could, because we were young and dumb and only had getting laid on our minds. So, my answer was, “I don’t really know.”

The room went quiet. Like, pool sticks lingered in the air, drinks suspended in front of gaping mouths, only the music played, kind of quiet. All eyes were on me.

Dagger, with brows lifted in question, watched me intently with his one blue eye.

Every insecure part of me wanted to high-tail my ass out of that building, but that was a ‘Kenny’ thing to do. I was now James Gunn Dalton. So, I searched until I found what resembled a spine, then stood up straight, setting my shoulders back. “But I’m willin’ to find out.”

Crickets…

Oh shit.

Suddenly, cheers broke out as if I had just promised a million dollars and a thousand beautiful strippers for all.

In the background, Diesel smiled with pride at me as Dagger dragged me to the bar. Some supermodel-looking bartender smiled as I was forcibly plopped down on a brown leather stool. I was trying to hold my man-card, but being surrounded by a bunch of rowdy big bikers is, well, unnerving. The bombshell saw it all over my face. She winked from under her long, straight blonde hair. “What are we starting with tonight?”

“Whiskeyyyy!” howled the bystanders as if singing to the moon.

Blinking, due to the booming sound of male voices, I watched as the bartender thumbed over her shoulder. Behind her was a big round silver circle on the wall, about six feet wide and tall. In the center of it was a cut out of a horse with a wild mane flowing in the wind. Above the horse was the word STEEL, and under the horse read STALLIONS MC. On each side of it were smaller silver cutouts of a wolf howling.

Questioning whether or not I was part of a pack or gang, I nodded. “Whiskey it is.”

Another whiskey howl erupted.

A clear shot glass was set in front of me. Inside was a beautiful brown liquid that perfectly matched Delilah’s eyes. Repeating to myself, James Gunn Dalton, I picked up the liquor and swallowed.

After gagging—and choking due to all the friendly shoulder jostles—I realized whiskey wasn’t exactly horrible. Now, tequila and I did not become friends, which, apparently, is a sin when living so close to the Mexican border, hence all the “booing.” However, after many shots of different beverages, and with a thick confusion settling in, there was a sweet buttery shot I was really fond of. I slurringly asked— “Wuts dish ssstuff? Eeet gooood.”

Bikers laughed like they’d been doing all night, and Dagger explained, “It’s the Stallion Special.” I had no idea why that caused the walls to rumble with more boisterous laughter, but it did.

My eyes were unable to focus, but I still tried. Across from me, Dagger and Diesel were now leaning their elbows on the bar next to the bartender, also laughing at me. I squinted, staring at them together. “Youuuuu may no know dis, but youuuuu twooooo wook awike.”

“They should,” replied a new voice in the night. “They’re fucking brothers.” The man with longer blond hair slid behind the bar to join them. “Is this my new Prospect?”

Diesel rushed in for a Mack truck of two men colliding kind of a manly hug. “Fuck! You’re here!”

Pats on the back commenced before the man who looked to be around the same age as Diesel finally let him go. “I had to leave Arizona in a hurry since someone doesn’t know how to give a man some notice.” He then grabbed the bartender, his voice deepening in a hungry yet affectionate rumble, “Babe. Fuck.” She was up against his chest, all smiles. “Gimme,” he demanded.

Hammered, I watched as her smiling lips pressed sensually to his. Her tongue slipped into his mouth with such seduction, I swear it was giving me a chub.

Suddenly, I was trapped in a mean-mug stare-off with the one she was kissing. I swallowed, but couldn’t pull my eyes from his grey ones that promised… pain.

His mouth no longer moving had the bartender confused, pulling her head back to see who he was staring at. She smacked his chest. “Stop. The kid is a buck sixty-five max, yet your boys here have been slammin’ shots down his throat like he’s entered a professional shot competition.”

Your boys? Fuck. This is the Stallion’s President.