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Chapter 1 Creature
I rolled to a stop in front of the bar, easing into a space located on the right of the neon sign that lit the entrance to Toxic Tonic before kicking down the stand on my Harley. The engine rumbled beneath me before I shut it down, sputtering a lifeless choke as I rose off the seat. My gaze swept over the front doors, noting the decor hadn’t changed despite the years that passed since I last set foot inside, and down to my wrist, checking the time on my watch.
I was nearly twenty minutes early.
Years of active military service had kept my mind sharp and my senses on alert. I never approached a bar without sweeping it for threats, danger, or any motherfucker deciding he was gonna push his luck and try his liquid courage. There was always one asshole who got too loud and figured his cock was bigger than everyone else’s. For some reason, that fucker always found me.
No one lingered outdoors yet, but the night was young. After nine, that would change. People would hang out outside the bar when the strands of tiny white lights flickered on. The outdoor seating would draw the crowd to the scenic patio where the Vegas Strip beckoned. For the best view, we used to ride to Lone Mountain and hike to the top, a short distance from this bar. From there, the whole damn city glistened below in a sensual, sparkling rainbow.
That was before Maddog and I joined the military and became Marines. Life was a lot fuckin’ simpler back then.
A row of motorcycles, almost entirely Harley Davidson Road Kings and Street Glides, were parked next to my Dyna Wide Glide, a gift from my old man after he got stuck in a wheelchair. Muscular Dystrophy had stolen his ability to walk and do the one thing he loved: ride. Now, he got around on two entirely different wheels.
I pushed those thoughts aside as I stashed my helmet, heading inside for a drink. When I pushed open the doors, the smell hit me first. Stale cigarettes, beer on tap, whiskey, leather, sweat, and drugstore cheap cologne. If you focused long enough, the unmistakable odor of vomit and raw sex tainted the air behind it. But that was Las Vegas, the city of sin and unrelenting appetites that hungered for everything forbidden or toxic. Loud. Flashy. Dirty in every way possible.
There was a reason I stayed away until now, choosing to forget the past and all the reasons why I left this stain in the fucking desert of Nevada. Only one man could get me to come back here, and the slick fucker made it seem like a goddamn privilege. A smirk rode my lips as I thought of Maddog. The asshole better not keep me waiting long.
I went straight to the bar, plopping my ass down on a vacant stool. The bartender, a cute little blonde with dark roots that needed a touchup and far too much makeup, ticked her chin as she glided in my direction. I wasn’t here for pussy, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t take a free blow job if offered one. Hell, I was no fucking saint.
She licked her lips and leaned over the bar, intentionally spilling her breasts over the top of her tank top until I nearly caught her nipple. “What can I get you?”
I half expected her to call me honey or babe. She didn’t. Glad for that, I gave her my drink order. I wasn’t much for endearments. Never met a woman who made me want to call her anything but her name. The cheesy shit? Not me.
As I waited, I turned to the side, taking in the booths that lined the perimeter, a handful of occupied pool tables, and an empty stage where I knew local bands played on Friday and Saturday nights. Neon signs advertised multiple liquor brands behind the bar, where mirrors reflected the neat rows of bottles. The ambient lighting made everyone look attractive, especially with the booze flowing.
“Here ya go, bud.”
Bud. I smirked at the bartender. Maybe I misread her flirtation.
“You want anything else?”
“Not yet,” I replied, popping off the top and taking a long pull.
“Let me know.” She winked. “I get off at two.”
Oh, shewasflirting. I lifted my beer in affirmation before she tended to another customer. I wouldn’t be around at two, but I didn’t tell her that.
