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The audacity of me.
On the second floor, the President of the Royal Bastards waited for me. The head biker had half of his residence set up as what he simply called his music room. But it was anything but simple. A baby grand piano graced the entrance which was set up much like a living room. Further inside, all the equipment one could ever want was artfully displayed. Like the club house, it was fancy, high scale. The best part, a little recording studio hid in the back, complete with a vocal booth which I preferred. Apparently, Kingpin had been into music before he spent years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. He often explained, he only dabbled. It was his hobby. But the fact his twin brother used his name and story to become one of the most famous stars in Nashville wasn’t lost on me.
The biker’s eyes met mine only briefly before he quickly took me in. “Eve, you're practically glowing this afternoon.”
Glowing? Like I’m pregnant. Good thing Hallow was gone or he’d know. I’d not be able to wait. On the other hand, Kingpin could see right through me. And he was always full of compliments.
I rolled my eyes. “Let's just get on with this.”
“Feisty as ever I see, Angel.” He winked.
“Lordalmighty. Don’t call me that.”
“Ain’t it your name?” He knew better. He’d been calling me by my middle name since he’d found it out.
“I wish you’d put a shirt on.”
“What? Does all this distract you?” Kingpin gestured toward his tattoos and piercings with a sly grin.
In nothing but tight leather pants the biker looked like evil incarnate with his jewelry sticking out of him like he were a voodoo doll. Kingpin had earrings, a nose ring, his eyebrow pierced, bars in his nipples and one in his tongue. I’d heard he had his nether region pierced too.
Lordalmighty, I couldn’t imagine.
Chunky silver rings, practically satanic looking, adorned his fingers that were tipped in black. Since he didn’t have on any damn shoes, I saw he had matching black toenails. They matched his long dark hair and beard, like he’d gone to some goth salon.
It was as if Ozzy Osbourne and Marilyn Manson had a love child, and Alice Cooper had been his nanny, taught him eyeliner. But that wasn’t exactly fair. Kingpin’s eyes were lined better than mine ever were. You couldn’t exactly tell until you had to stare in his eyes.
Whatever it was, I didn't like it. Not one bit. Where I was at least southern rock, if not all country, Kingpin was thrash, blood-sucking metal. The definition of a biker, like Judas Priest kind of biker, Prez was the original with leather and chains and spikes.
Oh my.
It wasn’t that I wholly disliked bikers. Oh heavens no. My father had been a notorious one, called Fighting Cock. Therefore, I spent my life defending the bunch, ridiculous names or not. And I was with Hallow, after all. But my biker wasn't that kind of biker. Sure, he had his cut, leather chaps and biker boots with his jeans. Nevertheless, Hallow was hot in a more wholesome way. Though tough, an ex-cop and ex-detective, he’d remind me, and all, there was a goodness to my biker that shined through his rough exterior. Hallow still craved justice, to do right. That was one thing I loved about him.
Just one look at Kingpin and you could tell he was bad to the bone.
Instead of putting his shirt on, he lit a cigarette. Scrunching my nose, I touched my middle thinking of my late period. I couldn’t complain or give myself away. Prez noticed everything. The man was quick. The last thing I needed was for this biker to have any more power over me.
Luckily, Prez hadn’t noticed. In nothing but his leather pants, Kingpin was in deep concentration as he fiddled with the microphone.
“Crap, where’s my manners? Get us a drink, will ya?” He spoke to the microphone, not me.
Blowing out air, I went to his drink cart and poured him some Dickel into his fancy glass. Not only did he have polished rings, but his glasses were also adorned in metal skulls. Sometimes I had a shot, to ease my nerves, too. I’d turned twenty-one in December so at least I legally could. I wouldn’t be drinking that day. Too bad there was no water or anything without a proof, for that matter.
I handed Kingpin his drink while he was still setting up equipment. Taking it, his hand brushed mine. As if triggered by the touch, his eyes narrowed. He smiled sideways at me like he would eat me but not exactly in the bad way.
Suddenly, I felt parched.
Chapter 2
Eve
I waited for it, but Kingpin didn’t make a pass at me. Thankfully, it seemed we were past him reminding me if Hallow gave me up, the club would take me as a whore, and he’d be the first in line. I’d never have it anyways and argued with him until I was blue in the face. Sometimes, I felt he only stopped pestering me because he hated to waste time.
“Enough with the pleasantries,” he declared.
Honestly, most of the time anymore, Prez was strictly business, or I would’ve stopped coming.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
