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Just like Big, Shorty got his name because of what he packed between his thighs, and the fact he was built like a damn tank. Shorty had acquired his nickname not because he was small but because of the opposite. At a towering six foot eight height, Shorty was a mean biker if crossed, just like they all were, Claire supposed.
She’d also heard from the sweet-butts that Shorty had a ten-inch dick, but she’d only ever been with Big, and that had been plenty for her. Big hadn’t been small. At all.
God, just thinking about Big and all that hardness, all that maleness, had Claire’s insides tightening. Yeah, Big certainly was … big.
She knew the stories of how the guys got their club names, had been around since the very beginning. She knew everything about these guys and had never felt more at home than at the MC and in their presence.
Claire was off to the side by a part of the building next to the club blocking her body so that, even if they looked in her direction, they couldn’t have seen her. She continued to look at the guys, listened to them joke, talk about the pussy they’d gotten, and couldn’t help but smile.
They hadn’t changed at all.
She moved closer, feeling her strength rise. Stepping into the swatch of light from the streetlight, she knew they’d see her sooner rather than later. These men, bikers, had this uncanny and extraordinary sense of their surroundings.
It only took a few seconds before Dirty turned his head and stared right where she stood. Claire felt like the world tilted right out from under her.
“What the fuck,” Dirty muttered out.
“Is that…” Shorty said after that. He stepped away from the side of the clubhouse, a joint between his lips. From the shadows, a club whore stumbled forward on her knees, probably sucking off all three guys.
“Claire?” Dealer asked and pulled the gate open. All the men in the club were such big fucking beasts, built like the Hulk, tatted up, and mean motherfuckers if someone crossed them. She stepped further into the swatch of light from the streetlamp.
“Well, I’ll be fucked,” Shorty said. He inhaled from his joint one last time, dropped it to the ground, and snubbed it out with his black boot.
“You didn’t tell Mayhem you were on your way,” Dealer said, not phrasing it like a question.
She shook her head. “No.” Claire should have, she knew that.
She wanted to talk to Mayhem in person about all of this. “I just wanted to get here.” She saw the looks the guys gave each other, and then saw their expression when they looked at her again.
They knew shit had gone down. Bad shit. She could see that by their expressions, but they weren’t drilling her—not yet.
“Where’d you park?” Dealer asked.
“Just down the street.”
“Your brother ain’t going to be happy you didn’t have him come get you. It’s late as fuck, girl,” Dirty said and pushed the gate open fully. “You know how dangerous it is at this time of night, even if you parked close to the clubhouse.”
Yeah, she did, but she had only been thinking about getting here and away from her mess.
She walked up to the gates and stepped over the threshold and into Bleeding Mayhem territory. Her body was shaking as she held her bags, and she felt a little light-headed. It was a combination of her running from the crap she’d gotten herself into and the fact in a very short time she’d be seeing Big and everyone else she’d left a few years ago.
She might still talk to Mayhem on occasion, love him no matter what, but she’d only seen him a handful of times since she’d left.
“Let me take those, sweetheart.” Dealer was the one to speak, and he grabbed her bags. He kissed her on the top of the head after a second of standing there looking down at her.
She could have cried at the familiar endearment.
“It’s good to see you, Claire. It’s been a long, damn time,” Shorty said and pulled her in for a hug. Dirty did the same, and it was strange that she instantly felt like she hadn’t been away for the last two years. This felt like home and these men like her family.
“Fuck, girl, what the hell happened to your face?” Dealer asked.
Dirty grabbed her chin in a firm but gentle hold, tilted her head up and toward the light, and cursed. “Who did this to you, Claire?” He spoke in a menacing, hard voice, saying it more like a statement, like a “you-better-tell-me-what-the-fuck-I-want-to-know” tone.
The fact she was here without her boyfriend probably alerted them to the fact it was that asshole who had done this to her.
“It was that little fucker, wasn’t it?” Dealer asked through gritted teeth.
