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Instead, Mr. Hutchinson decides to get the ball rolling by getting the formalities out of the way. He’s eyeing me curiously and has an amused look on his face.
“These are the guys, they’ll be witnesses for the meetings proceedings, and this here is my Vice President, Brock.” He thumbs the guy to his left with the widest shoulders and largest chest I’ve ever seen, he obviously lifts weights, he has long, wild hair and a beard and piercing blue eyes. Yeah, he could cut glass with his eyeballs. Mr. Hutchinson continues before I can linger too long. “Then there’s Gunner, Rubble, Bones and Steel.”
As my eyes fall on each of them, I take them all in one by one.
Gunner looks like the youngest; he’s blonde and blue-eyed with floppy hair hanging around past his ears.
Rubble has dark hair and tattoos running up his neck, he’s also got more jewelry on his fingers and up his wrists than I’ve ever seen on a guy ever.
The one named Bones has a freshly shaved Mohawk and a fairly applaud-worthy beard, and he grins at me, tipping his head. Lastly, there’s Steel, he just stares at me with these piercing dark green almost grey eyes and his jaw ticks like he’s clenching his teeth.
He’s the biggest out of all of them and has tattoos scattered, completely covering both his arms and hands so you can’t see any actual skin. His fingers are linked together as he assesses us at the end of the table, or rather,me. I don’t know what he sees but he doesn’t look happy.
Why is it that all bikers have weird nicknames?
Well, it’s true when you think about it; their moms probably gave them perfectly good, normal names at birth. I’m sure nobody in their right minds would choose to call their new-born bundle of joy Rubble.
The one named Gunner grins at me,ooh he’s cute. My heart rate kicks up a notch as he gives me a once over from head to toe, quite obviously, with a smirk plastered across his face. He has a baby-face, golden blonde hair and striking light blue eyes. He’s very good looking and he looks like he knows it. As he smirks his eyes twinkle suggestively.
Unnerving and slightly awkward.
They all give a chin lift as they’re introduced, all except the one named Steel. I don’t know why my eyes linger on him; maybe it’s the bad-ass look he’s giving me, or maybe he just got out of bed on the wrong side, and I’m imagining it.
“Sergeant at Arms,” the blonde one, Gunner helpfully pipes up.
Awesome, I’ve been caught staring.
“Steel’s also the clubs enforcer; he not only takes care of security issues and keeps us all in line but also rounds up cute, little lost girls from out of town who appear to be on the wrong side of the tracks.”
Some of the guys snicker. My eyes go wide.
“Just kidding,” he laughs giving me a wink. I don’t know which part he’s kidding about.
Steel doesn’t laugh, oh no, he just watches me with a blank expression that’s completely composed, and he’s got that down pat. At least Gunner seems friendly.
“Excuse the hostility,” Mr. Hutchinson cuts in giving Steel the side eye. “We don’t usually have bit…. uh…..Womenin the meeting room.” He flashes a grin. He has perfect white teeth but it’s more like the grin of a wolf before it devours its prey, and that does nothing to settle my nerves.
I gulp and question what I’ve walked into, and was he about to say…..Bitches?Rude.
I smile back sweetly like the intimidation going on here isn’t affecting me one bit. No, I hang out at biker clubhouses all the time and embroil myself in biker business.
I realize they probably think being a woman ultimately makes you stupid and therefore unable to partake in negotiations, like the one in progress, therefore it’s probably beyond my mental capabilities, but little do they know; they’re messing with the wrong bitch.
Finally, with relief so palpable you could bottle it, Laney decides to speak, hoorah! I try not to blow out a full lungs load of air as she takes over.
“We have drawn up the proposed agreement for the purchase of the property.” She begins as I listen on with silent intention. That was Jarrod’s que to fish the documents out from the manila file.
“My client wishes for a quick and simple transaction, and we feel the price is reflective of the current market value. Everything is in the paperwork attached.”
I hand the file to the one closest to me, Bones I think, the one with the Mohawk.
I don’t want to think about how he got his nickname and hope it didn’t involve breaking any.
He’s not as chunky as that Brock guy or Steel but he’s still muscly, and he has a tattoo of a naked woman on his forearm with a snake wrapped around her and an apple in her mouth. I glance down at it wondering why anyone would get that much ink and of a naked woman right there for all to see, or the pain one would go through to get it.
Bad-ass bikers, that’s who.
I want to shudder because I hate pain and needles, I like tattoos, but I’m too chicken to get one.
