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What the fuck?
“Breathe, son,” Viking says as he hands me a beer. “If you start pushing for answers that girl will shut down so fast your head will spin.”
“So, I just do nothing?” I grumble, not happy at the prospect. Someone clearly hurt her, and I want to find that person and pummel the shit out of them.
“Well, if you want to do something, just be here. If she wants to talk, she will.” He breathes out the smoke from his cigarette. “One would think after Hadley, Kaiya, and Storm, you boys would have learned something by now.”
“What are you trying to say, old man?”
“He is saying my business is just that. My fucking business.” She steals two more drags from the joint I haven’t been smoking. “You want to drink? We can do that. You want to play some pool? Hell, I’m game. But I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. And I don’t need some biker in dented chrome armor trying to save me.”
“Shit, lady.” I frown at her. “Don’t you think we deserve to know if you have trouble following you around?”
Her head falls back as she laughs loudly. “No one knows where I am except you guys. I didn’t even tell my brother. My problems won’t follow me. Besides, that fucker is too lazy to track me across state lines.”
The moment the words leave her mouth she knows she’s given away more than she wanted to. Instead of pressing for more information, I change the subject.
“And to what do we owe the honor of having you behind the bar instead of my ugly little brother?” I ask.
“I offered to take his shift. He needed to do a stock run because the bar is running low on some stuff and I need to do my part now that I’m staying here for a while,” she tells me while she dries a glass before putting it on a shelf. “And he’s actually kinda cute.”
“He’s also nineteen,” I spit out before thinking it through.
Am I jealous that she thinks my younger brother is attractive? Couldn’t be. And yet the thought of him or any of my other brothers—any man really—getting their hands on this curvy woman has me clenching my fist on the bar.
“What do you mean, living here?” Viking asks. He saved me from having to explain my reaction to her or myself.
“I wouldn’t let Mad Dog send his kids away so I could have their room, and Kaiya won’t let me go to a motel,” she says and shrugs. “This was the compromise we came to. I stay in his old room until I’m ready to go home.”
“Are you going home?” I ask.
“Depends.”
“On what?” I lean in.
“What Gypsy Falls has to offer.” Irene smirks before winking at me.
Chapter Eight
Finding My Place
Irene
It’s been three weeks since I moved into the Gypsy Bastards clubhouse and I’m loving it. I can understand the appeal that Kaiya and Storm see in the guys. They are big, strong, muscle-bound bikers, but they all have hearts of gold. And holy hotness! If I knew this was in Gypsy Falls, I would have come to visit ages ago.
They have also gone out of their way to make me feel welcome and to make sure I don’t feel like an outsider. It wouldn’t have mattered either way.
Kaiya has told me so much about everyone that I felt like I already knew them before I even met them. Most of the time Viking is around. From what I’ve seen, he rarely leaves the clubhouse and stays in one of the rooms like I do. Bishop lives on the top floor in what used to be the president’s quarters before Pope set up house with Storm. And then there are three girls the men refer to as “club ass” that all live here.
Beast hasn’t been around in about a week. I’m not sure why that catches my attention, but I write it off to simply wanting to ogle his fine ass. The man is built like a mountain and all those muscles have me wanting to jump him at the most inappropriate times.
I try to get my mind clear of my hormones, instead trying to think of something that will quench the fire in me immediately.
“Why do they refer to the woman as club ass?” I ask Hadley as I wipe down the bar. This subject should do the trick.
I was introduced to her the same night I got here, and we immediately hit it off. She is with Wolf, the club’s enforcer, and they have the cutest little girl together. She is also the local tattoo artist and hard-ass. I’ve heard her tell off at least three of the members if they were doing something stupid, even though she can be just as impulsive sometimes.
Melodious laughter tinkles from her as she cradles her sleeping daughter. “Because that ass belongs to the club.” At my frown, she continues her explanation. “They are available to any member of the club for sexual favors.”
