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My throat seized. “You staying on as club candy?” I asked gruffly.
Nodding, she glanced over my body again, and I couldn’t help but hope she liked what she saw. I kept in shape, muscled, big—all over. Hell, if I fucked her, I’d be afraid I’d tear the sweet little curvy thing in half.
“What’s your name?” I heard myself say like some idiot who didn’t know when to just fucking walk away from a bad idea.
“Allie.” She spelled it out for him. As if it would matter, but as I stood there looking down on her, I realized it did matter. Allie spelled with just an I or a Y would make her a different person, and he didn’t want to know a different Allie.
The grandfather clock Bishop pushed on me for my thirty-eight birthday a couple of months back chimed from the upstairs hallway. I glanced at my watch. “Shit, angel. I’ve gotta go.” I stepped over her and reached for the door.
“You’re Steel, aren’t you?” Her words made me turn.
“Who told you?”
“Everyone knows your name. The man nobody wants to fuck with, right? That’s you?”
I stared at her sleep-tossed hair, blue eyes, and then her little pouty lips, thinking how wrong and how sexy it was that such a dirty word had come out of it.
“Yeah, that’s me. And you want to listen to that advice, Allie.” With that, I walked out of the club, fighting the urge to look back and see how my words affected her.
If she was smart, she’d heed them. Stay away. I was all kinds of fucking wrong for a girl like her.
Chapter Three
Allie
Ilooked around at the other girls I was going to live and work alongside. Many were already friends, but I stood on the outside. Like always. I’d been on my own since sixteen, living wherever I could. Sometimes at the shelter, most on a few couches of supposed friends in exchange for the little cash I could scrounge up.
Judging by the other girls surrounding me, they were in similar situations. The ‘friends’ I came with I knew for sure didn’t have any better prospects lined up. A couple I’d seen around the blocks turning tricks, but I had managed to steer clear of that. I rather wash cars in a grocery parking lot than sell the one thing I had that was mine—my virginity, my body.
When the rough biker had approached me about coming to work at the Fallen Angels’ club, I thought I’d been knocked on the head and was hearing things.
Whispers were crawling through the underground about The Fallen Angels being a good fit for girls like me—nowhere to go and nobody to ask questions. Word was they took care of their own, too. And the girls had the option of sex or money in exchange for keeping up the place and cooking. For that, I’d always admired the Angels, but honestly, it all sounded too good to be true.
The trick was getting an invite, but last night my luck finally turned.
When they road past in their huge groups, I’d stopped outside a bar I hoped would give me a job to look. Every time I heard one of those engines, my head would whip up and I’d start searching for the sound. Getting a glimpse of the black leather cuts with the white and red angel wings patch on the backs always gave me a thrill and fueled fantasies of having such a large family to always have your back. A place to call home where people would die for you.
And now I’d met one in person—the president.
He was as huge as the rumors said. As mean-looking too. Though he was so handsome that it made me ache a little inside at the thought of looking at him again. His dark hair was slicked back, his brows heavy and his eyes a startling green underneath. Large shoulders stretched the leather cut he wore and thick thighs drew my eyes to other large areas on his body.
I’d never felt eyes pierce me that way. Like two knives slipping through the layers of protective shields leaving me bare and vulnerable to him. Only him.
When he loomed over me, his massive body had given me another sort of thrill—one that left me breathing heavy and wet between the legs. I’d been so close to reaching out and touching his jeans, to feel his strong calf molding the denim. He’d smelled like leather and musk, a breath of fresh air among the room filled with cheap perfume and cigarette smoke.
“What’s your name? There with the blonde hair.”
I looked around at the club candy who was giving the group instructions on how to cook and clean for the club members. The woman pointed at me.
“Um…Allie.”
A couple of girls giggled my way.
“Doesn’t even know her name. Not sure she’ll remember how to do this right,” one commented.
I barely finished high school but I did despite the hassles that came with the stress of being homeless and working toward my degree. Every day I’d dealt with girls like this there. And worse, on the streets.
I tried to keep the hardness seen on the streets from sinking into my soul, but mean girls drew my claws out. I stepped past a girl with eyeliner so thick she looked like she had two black circles instead of eyes. I came to a stop in front of the one who’d made fun of her. The girl was tall and thin with lanky hair but a pretty mouth that would probably become her biggest asset around here.
