Chapter 1
IRIS
"Snap out of it, bitch, you look like someone killed your puppy," Willa says while snapping her fingers in my face.
Willa Parker is my secret best friend. I say secret because my parents don't like her. They claim she's a bad influence on me. She might be rough around the edges, but I'm pretty sure I'm capable of making my own decisions. My parents look at me like I'm their perfect little angel, though, so I guess I can see why they don't care for Willa. I love her, and there's nothing they can say to change my mind.
"Sorry," I say with a laugh. "I'm in my head again. Imagine that."
She nudges me. "Gracie gave you Tent D. I'll be in the main saloon. Just remember that if any of them touch your ass, you break their goddamn fingers, okay?"
I laugh again. "Okay, Willa."
As if I'm going to break the fingers of a three-hundred-pound biker named something scary like Angry-Willie during the middle of Sturgis bike week. His club would eat me up and spit me out. I think I'll take my chances of a guy—or ten—pinching my ass.
Willa talked me into coming to Sturgis to make a boatload of money right before college starts. And because her parents used to be part of some big motorcycle club in the past, we were able to get in with no questions asked. The main lady, Gracie, simply asked us not to reveal our true ages.
I wrap a tiny black apron around my hourglass hips and take a deep breath. Since we’ve been here, I’ve been a ball of nerves. There are thousands of people here. Motorcycles line every square inch of the streets, and everyone either looks pissed the hell off or drunk as a skunk. Being a little eighteen-year-old girl here isn’t the smartest decision I’ve ever made.
Okay, fine, so maybe Willa isn’t the greatest influence ever, but I could have said no. But who could say no to earning an extra couple grand simply waitressing for a weekend?
As I make my way to my designated tent, I realize it’s a private party and my nerves skyrocket again. Most of these tents are reserved for the big motorcycle clubs—the kind of guys you don’t want to fucking mess with. The one-percenters of the club world; or so I was told.
It’ll be okay, though. I’m not their enemy, and I sure as hell don’t want to become one. Play it cool, Iris, you’ve got this.
I pull up my cut-off Daisy Duke shorts, hike up my DD breasts so they’re more visible, and run my fingers through my dirty blonde hair. Afterall, the sexier I look, the more I’ll make, right? That’s what Willa said while she dressed me this morning.
I’m totally fucking screwed, aren’t I?
Entering the tent, I nearly stop breathing when I see the number of people in here. Every single guy wears a leather cut with the words WICKED SAINTS MC on their backs; some of their state patches are different from California, though. Seems like there’s guys from all over the country. And just as I assumed, they have a 1% patch on their left chest area. My dad would say, “These are some bad motherfuckers.”
Several of them stop and look at me as I enter, clearly enjoying the view. I want to tug my shirt up and tell them to stop staring at my tits, but I’d probably get devoured. Instead, I plaster on the fakest smile I can and trot around like the bimbo I’m portraying to be for the night.
“Can I get you a refill, sugar?” I ask one of the big guys, making sure to touch his arm as I grab his empty bottle.
He literally drools over me, wrapping his big arm around my hips. I almost trip when he pulls me tight to his side, just reeking with beer breath.
“Baby, I’d like to fill you up instead.” He starts cackling—a dry, smoker’s cough at the end—like it’s the funniest joke in the world.
But I’m fucking mortified. My first customer during the rally, and it has to be this fucking creep. A couple thousand dollars isn’t worth it to me if I end up rapped in the back fucking alley.
I try to push away from him, still doting my fake smile for professionalism, but he isn’t budging. In fact, his hand is digging into my hips harder.
“Sir, I’m going to need you to let go of me,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice as steady as I can. But in all honesty, I’m about to cry my eyes out.
“Razor!”
A man’s deep voice calls out behind us before the creepy guy is ripped away from me. I stumble away, careful not to bump into anyone before I glance up at the guy who saved me.
My mouth goes dry when I see a guy around my age with a dark five o’clock shadow, sculpted cheekbones, plump lips, and a protruding Adam’s apple. He’s wearing a Wicked Saints MC hat that shields his eyes, but it doesn’t stop mine from traveling the rest of the way down his body. A crisp black tee-shirt hugs his thick pectoral muscles beneath his leather cut, faded jeans hug his thighs like a good pair of Levi’s, and black leather boots cover his feet.
Biker guys were never on my radar—until now. This guy is literally sex on a stick. I can’t stop gawking at the masterpiece standing before me.
He has beautifully done tattoos lining both arms, but none that I can see anywhere else. Several heavy looking metal rings decorate his fingers, and a black leather bracelet hangs from his left wrist.
“What have I told you about touching the waitresses, man? You trying to get slapped with another sexual assault charge, you dumb fucker?” The young guy slaps the back of my assailant’s head.
I step back again, trying to regain my composure from being both excited by this guy’s appearance and from being freaked out by his creepy comrade.
“You okay, lady?” he asks me.
How is it possible for his voice to sound deeper and sexier? This isn’t like me at all! I don’t fall for guys like this! I fall for guys like Marc—a douchebag jock with a cocky, dickwad attitude who dumped me so he could be single at college.
“I’m good. Thank you,” I reply.
I take the creep’s empty bottle and turn away. Now that the problem is dealt with, I’m hoping I can finish my shift. Willa is going to freak when she hears what happened, though. She lives for this kind of shit. I do not.
Tossing the bottle in the trash, I turn back to the party but smack right into the handsome guy’s chest. He grips my arms hard, warming my chilled flesh as a shiver runs down my spine. I stare into his eyes that seem quite familiar to me, though I know I’ve never seen this guy before tonight.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he rasps before he releases me and steps back. “Just wanted to let you know you dropped this.”
My eyes fall to his extended hand that holds my phone. “I noticed it slipped out of your back pocket during your shuffle to get away from the creep.” He hooks his thumb over his shoulder toward the guy.
I take it from the hot guy and shove it in my apron instead.
“Thanks,” I say shyly, moving around him.
Don’t do it, Iris, don’t look back.
Shit!
I look over my shoulder, finding the hot guy staring at my ass as I walk away, a sexy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. I let out a breathy sigh, wondering what his mouth tastes like, and hating that I’ll never know.
~~~~
My break is one of the most welcomed things of my life right now. My feet are killing me, I smell like smoke and beer, and I’m starving. I thought waiting to eat until after my shift was over would be smart so I wouldn’t be bloated, but how wrong I was.
I’m behind Tent D, hiding in the shadows between the backside of the saloon. I lean against the old brick wall before I twist off the cap of my ice-cold water. Chugging it back, I have to catch my breath after I drink half of it down. My growling stomach settles to a low rumble for the moment, but it still needs food.
“If you’re thirsty, I can give you something that will quench your thirst—”
I scream and jump, holding my hand to my chest.
But the guy who steps out of the shadows isn’t a creepy rapist. At least I don’t think the hot guy from earlier is. Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean anything, though. He’d been keeping an eye on me all night inside the tent, always keeping his distance. Now that I’m face to face with him, I’m ashamed to admit I flirted from afar—giving him sexy eyes, swaying my hips, leaning forward a little too far so he could see my cleavage, and brushing against his arm when I brought him a fresh cold beer.
“We carry these on long trips. Nothing is more hydrating than these.” He tosses me a little packet of something.
Catching it, I hold it up to the light to see that it says ‘liquid IV’ on the label. “Real cute,” I tell him, shaking my head as my cheeks flush.
Using my teeth to tear it open, I pour the powder into what’s left of my water bottle and shake it, then I finish it off.
“This is the second time you’re coming to my rescue in the same night. They must call you Savior.” I chuckle, knowing most of the guys in these clubs have ridiculous road names for each other.
He chuckles, and it’s the most magical sound I’ve ever heard. “Nah, they don’t call me anything. I don’t like pet names.”
Leaning against the brick wall, he hikes a boot up and puffs on a black stick where the tip lights up a bright blue color. He blows out smoke before handing it to me.
“Vape?”
I scrunch my nose. “I don’t smoke.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He puffs on it again as I watch the blue light illuminate his handsome features.
Everything about this guy’s face is perfect. It’s almost annoying how good looking he is. He should be an Abercrombie and Fitch model or some shit like that.
“You’re staring,” he says.
I blink rapidly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I look away. “Sorry.”
He chuckles again. “You have an annoying habit of apologizing when you’re not in the wrong, did you know that?”
Now I’m the one chuckling. “My dad says the same thing.”
“Smart man,” he says before pushing off from the wall. “When do you get off?”
I snort. “Trying to pick me up with the oldest line in the book?”
I’m expecting him to laugh or blush from embarrassment, but he doesn’t do either of those things. His jaw tightens as he looks around behind me, puffing on his vape pen again.
“Nah, I was trying to be a gentleman and let you know that I’d walk you back to your car. It’s not exactly safe around these streets for a pretty girl like yourself.”
“Oh.”
Now I feel like an asshole. He was just trying to be sweet and offered to walk me home.
“I, um, get off at midnight.”
He sucks through his teeth, dropping his hard gaze back on mine. “Don’t leave this tent without me, do you understand?”
Swallowing hard, I slowly nod my head but say nothing. He steps away from me and walks toward the tent again, disappearing behind the white flap. Why can’t I fucking breathe right now?
