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“Yeah,” Gate said.
“It was her.”
“Holy shit. And you let that walk away?”
“She lives in a town house on Gaston. Drives an Audi. I thought she was a rich girl who wanted a taste of biker.”
“So she wasn’t any good?” Gate asked. “I woulda thought a woman looks like her would be a wild cat.”
Talon looked at his boots. “Hottest piece of ass I ever had,” he admitted.
“Well, since you blew off that hot piece of ass, you won’t mind Ryder tappin’ it.”
“I’ll kill that motherfucker first,” Talon swore.
“No,” Gate said. “You won’t. One of her conditions was that she not cross paths with you. I’ve put Ryder in charge of making sure she doesn’t. I’ve also asked him to show her around. Introduce her. Not saying he’ll get in there, but I am saying that if he does, you’ll leave it alone.”
“She told you what happened?” Talon asked, voice shaking with rage.
“Not in so many words,” Gate answered.
“So this is your choice.” Talon made it a statement.
“My choice is to let beauty, who happens to be open minded about bikers and our way of life, come inside so that, just maybe, one of my brothers will have a taste of that beauty for himself.”
“I met her once and fucked her against her car.”
“You embarrass her, and we’ll go toe to toe, T. Not lying about that shit.”
“Jesus, Gate, over a groupie?”
Gate stood, planted his palms on his desk, and leaned, “Maybe she’s into bikers. Maybe she was into you. For all you know, you’re the only biker she’s ever had. But Iguarandamnteethe way you’re acting, you won’t be the last.”
Talon stood and started for the door, “Fine. This bites the club on the ass, it’s on you.”
He slammed the door on his way out.
Gate sprawled back in his chair and smiled.
**************************
Talon
Harley roaring under him, Talon blazed down Bay Street, craving the open road and ocean air.
He merged onto Islands Expressway toward Tybee and opened the throttle.
Maybe she was into you.
She’d been so hot. Hottest woman he’d ever touched in his life. And responsive. Like she wanted to eat him alive.
All silky skin under his hands.
Demanding mouth on his. Lips that looked like they were made to wrap around his cock.
But he’d looked at the trappings of her life and made a call about the kind of woman she was. Assumed she was like Tiffany, always angling for a bigger house. A fancier car. More exotic vacation.
Tiffany had left a scar on his soul a mile wide. And he’d assumed every woman since would do the same.
