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It was several minutes later before they both reappeared together, the tall blonde girl pulling the redhead along with her. The girl looked shaken up but not traumatized. Good. If she were going to hang around a biker bar, she would need to have some steel in her spine. I grunted as I took a shot of whiskey.
It took a long time of sitting in the darkness with only my bottle of whiskey as company, before I finally couldn't take it any longer.
For the rest of the night, I sat in my reserved seat, ignoring everyone that wanted to talk, growling at Shock when the crazy motherfucker tried to tell me stories I already knew about the trip we had just taken. The only thing I was interested in was watching.
Her blood-red hair flowed down her back as she worked behind the bar. Every smile she gave to one of my men had anger flowing through me, only her glances my way, telling me she was as aware of my presence as I was hers, calming me, and keeping me from cutting the eyes out of every single one of my men.
I watched as she hid herself while in plain view. She used her long hair as a shield, as if she could hide her essence from my eyes. I wanted to stalk over there and demand that she show me her scars. The scars that didn't take away from her beauty, only enhanced it.
I sat there and wondered how she got them. They weren't self-inflicted. Someone had done that to her. Someone had touched her flawless flesh and carved himself into her. I wanted to carve myself into the man who had done it until he no longer existed. Until he was nothing but a pile of bones and blood. I would hand her his heart since mine was black coal in my chest.
But I wouldn't. Because I would not go to her. She was as untouchable as I was. My filthy hands had no place on her. But neither did anyone else's. That was a promise I made to myself as I sat there in my dark corner, alone while surrounded by others.
ChapterSix
SALLY
"Hey, new girl!" I stopped in my tracks on my way back to the bar. I looked around and noticed several of the guys who had been drinking were standing up. Most of them were chugging down the last of whatever was in their glass as if they would never get another drink again. I hurried over to the bar.
"What's up?"
"Look, we normally wouldn't do this, but a couple of the girls are sick tonight. They wouldn't want to miss tonight if they could avoid it, so it must be pretty bad. I heard a stomach bug was going around town."
I was used to his rambling, but right now, I just wanted him to get to the point. "Mac, what is it?"
"We need you to work the fight tonight." He stood there expecting something from me, but I wasn't sure what. Unfortunately, I had nothing to give him. He sighed heavily as if he had just realized how hopeless I was. "The club hosts a huge fight night at a warehouse down the road once a month. It's a big deal around here, and it brings in a fuckton of cash. The girls that work the fights make a fuckton, too. As I said, they wouldn't miss it if they had a choice. So we need you to step up tonight." He gave me a narrowed-eyed stare, sizing me up. "You think you can do that, new girl?"
I had already been working at the bar for close to a month, and I hardly considered myself a new girl, though I was definitely an outsider compared to the rest. But serving drinks at a fight club? It sounded dangerous, and it was on the tip of my tongue to say hell no when a snicker came from behind me.
"You're joking? Right?" Daisy plopped her tray down on the scarred surface of the bar with a loud clatter. "This… thing working the fight night? She'll scare the crowd."
"Now, Daisy…" Mac started, but I was already stepping forward.
"I'll do it." I lifted my chin and stared him in the eye, challenging him to agree with the stupid bitch that had taken every chance she had to belittle me and tried to make me feel like shit over my appearance. I ignored her snort of derision as he gave me a curt nod, a glint of approval in his eyes.
"Good, good. I need you to go into the back room where the extra clothes are for the girls. Find the ones that are different from what you wear here. Can't miss 'em." He turned to give Daisy a glare. "Get moving, or I'll tell them to leave you behind."
I didn't wait around for any more of her shit and left my tray sitting there. Mac would put it away behind the bar. I assumed the place would stay pretty slow for the rest of the night if the exodus of bodies was any indication.
I found the clothes in stacks where he said they would be. He was right; they were different from what we usually wore. While our uniform at the bar was a black crop tank top with black shorts, these clothes were white. It wasn't a typical crop top, more like a bralette, though there was a built-in bra so my breasts wouldn't hang out of the bottom. The white boyshorts looked like they were made of leather, but as I examined them, I realized they were the same stretchy spandex material as the black shorts.
It only took me a few minutes to swap out my clothes, and I was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable they were. Honestly, they would have been great workout clothes if the top was a little more supportive. As it was, the top molded to my body, coming to a stop just a couple of inches below my breasts. The shorts only rose as high as my hip bones, leaving a large expanse of flesh visible.
I looked in the mirror and realized for the first time since I had been taken that I had lost a significant amount of weight, but more than that, I had gained muscle. Since leaving high school, I had put on those dreaded "freshman fifteen", probably plus a few. Before now, I would have had a bit of a muffin top and would have been able to pinch a good amount of flesh from my belly. Even while I was in captivity, I hadn't lost much weight since the doctor had made sure to keep me fed and healthy for his "experiments". Now, though, I was slim, as slim as I used to be when I swam daily for the high school team. What I didn't like about the outfit was the god-awful camel toe that made me feel self-conscious.
I plucked the stretchy fabric at my crotch and wiggled my hips, hoping to make the material slide down a little more, giving me enough room to cover my vagina better.
"There's nothing you can do about it." I turned to look at Kara as she strolled into the dressing room, wearing the same thing I was. "We've all grown to get used to it." She reached down to adjust the seam between her legs. "Though I do hate the fucking wedgies."
She walked over to me and circled me while humming. "You look good. Great actually. You can almost see a hint of a six-pack in your abs." She scrunched her nose. "I wish I had the motivation to do crunches, but I'd rather eat a bowl of cereal."
"I think you look great, too," I offered. She really did. Her curves were amazing, and she carried them well.
She grinned at me, making me almost want to smile back. "Thanks. So, I was told to make sure you had a tattoo before we left. There will be a lot of guys from other clubs at the fight, and it will let them all know that you are off-limits. No one is allowed to force a woman while at the fight night; the Devil's Nightmares would chop off their dicks if they tried. But it's important to have their MC logo visible, just in case. They tend to get handsy. But if you get scared, just look for any one of the Nightmares, and he is obligated to put a stop to it. Okay?"
It all sounded great to me, but I was still stuck on the word tattoo. "You are going to tattoo me? Here? Now?"
She giggled and walked over to a small plastic box on a nearby shelf. "Not exactly, but yeah." She took the lid off the box and reached in, withdrawing something.
