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“Holy shit.”I mumble in the backseat next to Rose.
Easton slows to a stop right in front of a building surrounded by a tall, impenetrable wall. What is this place? I mean, I get it’s for a clubhouse full of bikers, who probably are involved in a novel’s worth of criminal activity. But—this shit?This wall is like some President of the United States, the Pope, drug lord type barrier between me and whatever is behindthis wall.
Just a whole lot of intimidating.
“Oh, sup guys? Hold up, I’ll let you in.” Some guy says. He looks younger than I would expect someone here to be. He has curly, sandy brown hair and an innocent baby face. Funny that he works here though, because I’m sure he’s at least a few years older than me.
“Thanks, Charlie.” Easton says as he rolls up the window. He glances over at Jackson andthere’s that look again. Not like anything is wrong, but like somethingcould bewrong.
I glance over at Rose to see if she noticed the look, but her eyes are locked on the surroundings. The gate slides open, and behind it areat leastfifty bikes lined up along the building. Multiple fire pits are set up in the yard with groups of people surrounding them. Men are dressed in cuts and jeans. Women are dressed in leather so tight there’sno fucking wayit’s comfortable.
Heads turn our way as we pull into park. Probably wondering why we’re in a car and not on a motorcycle.
I don’t know much about The Seven. I’ve met Aziel a few times from when he’s come to Minnesota with his dad—Link? Lynx?
The Seven.
Seven Sins.
I’m not sure what or who represent each sin. Maybe it’s just a general name? Or maybe each of them are named after a certain sin.
Which sin is Aziel, I wonder?
Easton turns off the car and we all hop out.
“Easton! Jackson!” Comes a booming voice from across the yard.
Aziel’s dad, Link/Lynx comes over with a beaming smile. “Glad you guys could make it!” He looks us over, his eyes only slightly widening when he sees my bump. “These must be the ladies you guys were keeping from us. Hi, I’m Lynx.” Ahh, Lynx.
He reaches his hand out, and Rose takes his large paw in her dainty grip. “Rose.”
He rolls her name around in his mouth, his dimples popping out and making me soften. Shit, isn’t this like the president or something? I bet he has women swarming all over him.
Oh yeah, that’s the other thing I heard about The Seven. None of them have women. Wives, old ladies, whatever they’re called.
Nope. None of them have ever held a woman down. Whether it’s on them or the women, I don’t know. I’ve never really paid much attention, but now that I look around, I’m finding myself increasingly curious.
He sticks his hand out in front of me and I place my hand in his. “Cara.”
“Rose. Cara.” He smiles again, and whistles. “You two look like you got your hands full. Good luck with them.”
Easton walks over and drapes his arm over Rose’s shoulders. Staring into Rose’s eyes, he gives he a look that even I can’t read. Some secret conversation passes between them until Rose looks back at Lynx. “You could say that.”
Lynx laughs and slaps him on the back. “Grab yourself a beer. Jex is grilling, so go get yourself something to eat and chill out.” He slaps Jackson on the back and walks off.
Jackson comes and stands suspiciously close to me. Tension thickens the air to the point it’s hard to breathe. I look around and see a group of men staring at us.
Ah ha.
I roll my eyes as we start walking towards the grill. The man called Jex has a freaky looking scar down the side of his face. He’s talking to someone who I can’t see because his back is turned to me. But every time Jex smiles, his lips curve in an unnatural way because of the scar. It’s oddly… sexy. You think that having such an alarming scar on half of your face would make you into something out of a horror movie, but there’s just something about his aura that makes him seem attractive.
Jex spots us and nods his head at the man in front of him. He turns around, and I see it’s Aziel Jex is talking to.
Aziel.
Another good-looking guy. Or is it all of them? Aziel with his dark features and intimidating presence, he reminds me a lot of Easton in that sense.
“Easton. Jackson.” He lifts his beer. Much more subdued than his father.
