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Pillar’s dark eyes searched Nikita. “That right?”
She nodded. “Yeah, we’re new, and one of the dolls said we could get something to take the edge off.”
The three men chuckled. Pillar brushed back Nikita’s hair. “Sounds like they’re hazing our new girls.” His gaze dipped to her chest, then returned to her face. “But believe me, sweet cheeks, none of this is for the taking. You gotta earn it.” He licked his lips. “Want me to show you how?”
“I think we can figure that out.” She forced a giggle and looked to Mandi, who was sweetly smiling at the man holding her tightly. “But we’re late. They said we have orientation or some shit.”
Pillar gradually loosened his grip. “Ah, yes. Juliet said she brought on two new dolls.” He lightly kissed her mouth. “I look forward to tasting all that you and your friend have to offer.”
Too stunned to move, Nikita stared at the MC president. “Maybe next time.”
He chuckled darkly and grabbed her ass. “Don’t let me catch you down here again. You won’t like what’ll happen.”
Mandi hurried up the stairs first. Nikita followed at a slower rate, unable to take her eyes off the man who she was determined to put behind bars.
Chapter Seven
Kevlar
He woke in a cold sweat.Sitting up, he adjusted his eyes to his surroundings. He was safe.In the States.Wiping off his brow, Kevlar swung his legs over the bed. The time he spent overseas continued to fuck with him. He could doze off or fall into a deep sleep and the horrors from the sandbox found him, nonetheless.
The phone on the bedside table lit up with an email, and he glanced at the time. Daybreak would be soon.Might as well get up.He slid on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. When he couldn’t sleep, he hit the streets. Hell, when anything bothered him, he hit the streets. Whether on his feet or his bike, it was a tossup dependent on the weather.
As he laced up his shoes, he opted for the route that would help the sweat already sliding down his abs make sense. He ran every morning since he joined the Army. His officer status hadn’t stopped him from being one of the fittest men.
He made it outside as a hint of sunlight glowed behind the mountains. Setting a hasty pace, he tried not to think about the military. It would’ve been easier if his sweatshirt didn’t haveArmyscrawled on it.
After getting into trouble as a teen, his parents decided he was better suited for military life. He couldn’t disagree. Well, he tried, but a thirteen-year-old didn’t have much say in the matter. They shipped him off to military school after military school. Some worked, others he got himself kicked out of.
Kevlar turned onto the main drag in Snowshoe, the streetlights blinking through their color patterns. He’d hated his parents for subjecting him to the military. Until he realized how much he loved the structure, dedication, and purpose. After that, he threw himself into the Army programs. If it were his lot in life to be an officer, he’d be the best damned one out there.
The coffee shop on the corner flipped on its lights, the owner yawning from inside. The sudden urge for caffeine sent his legs faster. A good cup of coffee would wake him up but he didn’t have time.Have to get all the sweat out of me before I get clean.
Crossing the street, he pulled his cap lower on his head. He couldn’t give in to stopping yet. He had another five miles to go. The light scent of jasmine drifted from nowhere. He glanced around, expecting to see Kita somewhere. Not one soul met his frantic gaze. She wore that same scent, and it still devastated him in the best ways.
His gut dropped. Seeing her the night before made him wonder what the hell happened. She looked hella fine fifteen years older. His dick jumped at the thought of the skimpy outfit she wore and the tattoos displayed so proudly. Those were new additions. They fit her perfectly too. She was a tomboy in college, but it appeared she somehow changed that tune.And became a Cutthroat doll.
Kevlar shook his head. His Kita would never lower herself to drop to such standards. The Cutthroats were dickheads and treated their dolls like shit.Surely, she knew that before she walked through their doors.
His legs started to ache, the fitness tracker on his wrist telling him he would be over his miles by the time he turned around. Finishing the sidewalk, he took the next left and started back towards the clubhouse. Seeing Kita brought up the past and his first deployment alongside it.
He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to remember the horrid events that made him one of the best Army officer snipers. Usually, the officers weren’t at the top of the combat groups, but he wasn’t like the rest. The first tour in Iraq gave him his nickname. From that day forward, wearing his Kevlar vest was a necessity. It saved his life, and in return, he had the opportunity to save his entire squad, Rubble included.
His Macha brothers initially gave him shit, but when they faced off against the Greenback Cutthroats during one of his furloughs, even Reaper insisted he carried his military nickname into the club. He rubbed a hand against his chest, the battering of bullets ghosting him once more. His ten-mile run was the only time he didn’t wear the vest out and about.
Kevlar picked up his pace, sweat dripping off his nose. Kita and the Army went hand in hand. He couldn’t think of one and not the other. Her memory got him through each one of his deployments. Even though he’d never known what happened to her, he’d assumed she came to her senses and opted to pursue someone more worthy of her status. She was rich.At least she used to be.Her role in the dollhouse didn’t make sense.
The clubhouse loomed in the distance, the sun finally shedding warmth on the valley between the mountains. He squinted, seeing Rubble and Hawk outside smoking already. While he craved a hit of nicotine, a hot shower and not thinking of Kita was in his near future. But not thinking of her was harder than he thought. Especially when everywhere he looked, the memory of her gorgeous amber eyes stared back at him.
***
Seven days passed since he saw Kita at the Rusty Cantina. He’d scoured the streets for her and came up short each time.Stop being stupid.He couldn’t help it. Rubble gave him hell, and more than once, a nymph tempted him to forget her.She’s someone from the past, not someone for your future.
Kicking down the kickstand, he yanked off his helmet and plowed past the group of prospects waiting outside the clubhouse. The time illuminated on his screen, and he shoved his phone back in his pocket before walking to the room already full of Macha members. Taking a seat, he nodded to Doc, then Hawk. He’d barely spoken to either of them the last week, too preoccupied with Kita.
“All right, let’s get down to business.” Their president, Reaper, pounded a small gavel and sat. “The Greenback Cutthroats are indeed working with the Diablos MC.” A murmur of grunts echoed among the members. “That being said, Rubble and Kevlar are working an angle to get some info on their operations here in Colorado.”
This was news to him. He glanced to the sergeant at arms, but the big man didn’t look his way.Coward.Being tossed into an assignment didn’t bother him. The part where he’d have to hunt down Kita—who clearly didn’t want his help—did.
