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In a split second, the group is silenced, and I worry I fucked up. Maybe guys with egos big enough to throw out a corny pickup line don’t enjoy a witty comeback. But then he takes the licorice out of his mouth and points it at me, grinning, while his friends cut up and prod at him.
“Name’s Lucky.” He points to his vest.
“Navy.” I smile and wave.
“Hey, weren’t you at the Honey Pot the other night?” another of the group asks.
Worried about giving too much away, I pretend to not have heard the question and continue through the front door, wholly unprepared for what I walk into. My eyes go wide as I take in the beautiful space. It’s industrial and masculine, but the warm colors and textures make it feel cozy. It’s a stark contrast to the people inside.
Even from where I’m frozen at the door, I can see to the back, where a woman, dressed only in a thong, dances on a pole to the blaring rock music playing from what must be an expensive sound system. Men and women are crowded around the slightly elevated stage, tossing cash at her, while others dance in the open space behind.
Across from them is a long bar where people are gathered, boozing it up, as two frazzled bartenders attempt to serve the crowd. Near the bar, some shoot pool at tables illuminated by hanging stained glass lights. The air smells of cigarettes, weed, and alcohol, the same bitter, pungent scent of Ray’s house, though they must have better ventilation. It’s lacking the staleness of what I breathe in daily.
It’s loud and chaotic, but everyone seems to be having a good time, so caught up in what they’re doing that they don’t notice as I meander through the space, looking for Colin. It’s easy to rule out the men dressed in street clothes, but not as easy to pick him out of the dozens wearing the same black leather cut with the Sons of Erebus logo embroidered across the back. The lighting is dim, and everyone is tall and muscled, just like Colin.
A hand lands on my shoulder, and I look back at the guy from out front, licorice in his mouth bouncing as he chews. I attempt to shrug him off, but his hand remains clamped.
“Let go,” I demand.
He bites down on the red rope, then yanks it out of his mouth. “You’re Rigger’s girl, huh?”
The context is wrong, but the little girl still living inside me loves the way that sounds. I loved having a big brother for the two years Colin was in my life. Before him, I never had anyone who looked out for me, and I worshipped the ground he walked on.
“I’m not his anything, but Iamlooking for him. Do you know where he is?”
He nods. “Honey Pot, but should be here soon. Why don’t you sit down and have a drink with me?”
“Because I have no idea who you are.” I attempt to shake him off again, but he just laughs.
His eyes sparkle with amusement. “Girlie, if I set you free in this place, you’ll be eaten alive in seconds and Rigger’ll hang me.”
“How do I know you won’t do the same?”
“I’ve been Rigger’s friend since we were kids, and maybe you don’t remember me, but I remember you.” He guides me toward the bar. “Took me a minute to place ya. You’ve, uh, grown up a bit.”
Memories flood back to me, and I wonder how I missed it.
“Wilder?” I ask in disbelief, but there’s no mistaking him now. He’s obviously older—a full-grown man now. His hair is longer, with a scruffy beard, and his lanky body has filled in, but his eyes are the same: deep-set, dark as night, and full of mischief.
“Youdoremember.” He motions for me to take a seat on a barstool.
“I can’t believe I forgot. The licorice should’ve been a dead giveaway.”
“What can I say? I have an oral fixation.” He grins wolfishly.
I suppress an eye roll. “You said Colin will be back soon?”
“Yeah.” He looks over my head. “There he is now.”
I swivel on my stool and spot him walking through the door. He gives chin lifts as he’s greeted by other vest wearers with an air of calm, cool, and collected surrounding him. It’s hard to believe he used to be a boy with so much worry on his shoulders that he was always slumped forward from the weight of it all. Now his posture is straight, and he oozes confidence.
And palpable sex appeal.
I quickly dismiss that thought, feeling sick and twisted for even thinking it. For all intents and purposes, Colin is my brother.
Two women sidle up to him, dipping their chins and pushing their tits out. He grins like he’s hot shit, wrapping an arm around each. I don’t doubt he’s had more than his fair share of the opposite sex in the years he’s been gone.
He had an occasional girl sniffing around when we were younger, but he always sent them away if I was with him. When I asked why, he told me I was the only girl who mattered.
