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Chapter Nine

Imogene stared at herself in the mirror. She spun slowly, catching every angle as a small smile played on her lips. She’d done her due diligence and researched common outfits for biker parties. Leather was a popular choice. It was definitely not part of her own wardrobe, but she was able to order the clothes and have them delivered to the motel. Is it too much? It was the perfect fit. Maybe too perfect? She smoothed her hands over the red leather pants. They fit like a glove, leaving little to the imagination. She’d actually stolen the look from a picture and matched the pants with a black corset top.

She again found herself asking, was it too much? She glanced down her body, zoning in on the plunging neckline strapped with laces. For precaution, she double-knotted the bow. Now her concern shifted from coming untied to her breasts popping out. Imogene was second guessing the outfit. She peered down at her suitcase. Nothing in her wardrobe was suitable for a motorcycle club party. It was leather or nothing.

Imogene stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was definitely out of her comfort zone, but she shrugged, fighting against her smile.

“I kind of look good though.”

The decision was made. Surely, in leather she’d blend in with everyone else. I hope.

According to Gent’s directions, the clubhouse was only ten minutes down the road. Since arriving in Killcreek, she hadn’t ventured out much. Honestly, there really wasn’t much to see. But she’d taken a short ride canvassing the area and doing a trial run. Even with his directions, the clubhouse couldn’t be seen from the road. She’d been tempted to go up the driveway but reconsidered. She was invited for the party. It didn’t give her free rein to show up unannounced.

Imogene grabbed her keys and bag, taking one last look in the mirror. The butterflies swarmed her belly. If she didn’t leave now, she might chicken out. She rushed to the door, locked up behind her, and got into her car. The owners were sitting on the front patio and waved as she exited the driveway.

By the time she arrived, the lot was almost full. She was able to find a spot, but if anyone pulled next to her, she ran the risk of being blocked in. There were a few people milling around in front of the house and a group on the porch. She smiled when making eye contact with a woman near the stairs. It wasn’t returned.

Great!

Imogene had been to parties, but this was on another level. It was wall to wall bikers and men with quite a few women scattered in the mix. It probably wouldn’t have been so intimidating had she had a friend with her. But I’m flying solo.

When she attempted to make it to the bar, she got caught up in a crowd. Mosh pit would’ve been a fair description. She found herself moving deeper into the room until she saw a small opening and pushed her way to the wall. She pressed her back against it, surveying the room while trying to level her racing heart.

“I’m so out of my element,” she muttered, turning to the left. The bar was now about fifteen feet away. Even if by some miracle she got there, all the space was taken.

“Hey, darlin.” His sultry drawl and breath against her ear had Imogene spinning around quickly. So fast she lost her footing and essentially fell into Gent’s chest. When she realized her hands were on his pecs, she yanked her arms down to her sides.

“Thought for sure you were gonna stand me up.” The corner of his mouth curled, and his gaze skimmed over her outfit, lingering on her breasts. “This for me?”

She nervously chuckled and waved him off. “I had to look up what to wear to a motorcycle club party. Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” He licked his lips. “You nailed it.”

Her smile was shaky at best. While he didn’t say anything directly to make her uncomfortable, he had a strange aura. A quiet, dangerous vibe.

She leaned closer, shouting over the music. “Is it always this packed?”

Gent glanced over the room. “A lot of people like to party here.”

Imogene nodded, looking at the men across the room with Killcreek cuts. She recognized two from the night she’d run into Jekyll but didn’t see him. It seemed a bit forward and eager to ask Gent. But she did it anyway.

“Is Jekyll here yet?”

The corner of his mouth hiked. “Asking about Jek when you’re my date?”

Date? What, no! She widened her eyes and waited on Gent to laugh or make some type of joke. He did neither. Was this a date? No.

“This isn’t a date.”

He flinched. “It’s not?”

Uh oh.

She crinkled her nose. “Is it?”

He burst out laughing and slid his knuckles over her arm. It sent a tremble over her flesh but not in the good way. Imogene stepped back, forcing a smile. While she appreciated the invitation, she didn’t want to give him the wrong impression.

“I’m sorry but this isn’t a date.”