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Her lower stomach cramped at the flash of memory—that moment when Hawk made love to her in the shower. “I doubt anything could give me clarity. Besides, he already has a date.”
“Lara is everyone’s date all the time.” Tish shook her head like Isolde was a child. “Like most of the women here.”
Tish wasn’t wrong. Where the Devil’s Renegades—the most powerful and dangerous outlaw motorcycle club in the mountains of Virginia—roamed, women followed. And the few women in the club tonight were all sweet butts. There were other, less polite terms for the women, but she’d recently been humbled by one of life’s unexpected events and had no desire to denigrate another woman’s choices. Especially since she’d fallen into Hawk’s bed within hours of meeting him. “Still not interested.”
“Not buying it.” Tish handed her a dishrag to wipe down the counter. “Hawk, who’s hot as sin, is only paying attention to you.”
She refused to look in his direction, although she felt the heat of his regard. “Tish—”
“Izzy?” Tish touched her shoulder, and Isolde was grateful Tish remembered to use her nickname instead of her real name. “Don’t overthink this. Sometimes you just gotta go with your heart.” She paused and glanced at Isolde’s shorts. “Or the other, more important part of your body.”
A blush heated her cheeks, and she shot back, “Trusting the wrong man is what got me into this mess in the first place.”
Notwantingto start an argument, she began cleaning. The music shifted to an even darker country rock vibe while Tish flirted with one of the menstandingnear the end of the bar. Known as Eagle, he was the Devil’s Renegade’s Sergeant-at-Arms. A tall, dark haired man with tattoos on his face and neck. From the way he ogled Tish, heclearly didn’t care about the gold ring he wore on his left ring finger. Then again, it was hard for most men not to notice Tish.
She wastaller and slimmer than most women, but her defined arm muscles provided proof she was also stronger than many men. Tish was of Nordic descent with long blond hair braided into elflocks, a type of dreadlocks with moonstones and onyx beads woven in between the tangles and knots. Like Isolde, Tish wore cutoff shorts, the bar’s black logo T-shirt, and a black half-apron. But her friend’s longer legs and fuller breasts gave the outfit a totally different look than Isolde gave off.
A push of men appeared at the bar and the shot glasses emptied in another round of toasting Cheery’s new status. While Tish set up more glasses, and Isolde wiped the bar and poured more tequila, her breath shortened and her vision blurred, two signs of an oncoming panic attack.
They didn’t happen often, but since she’d left home two months ago they were appearing with more frequency. So she forced herself to breathe deeply and focus on small things like the stench of boozy men, rancid tobacco, and J.R.’s deep fried okra. Things like the clinking of glasses, male laughter, and the stickiness between her fingers from pouring endless glasses of tequila. Then her mind shifted to her shabby-yet-safe apartment above the bar where, for a few hours each night, she could pretend her life wasn’t a total shit-show with the finale barreling in her direction, probably riding a black Harley with flames spewing from its silver pipes.
She checked her middle finger, even though she knew it would be bare. She took a few more deep breaths and reminded herself that the ring was safe in her apartment, tucked beneath an old floorboard.
The tang of pine with an undercurrent of whiskey made her look up. Hawk stood in front of her and placed his empty glass on the bar.Without saying a word, she poured him another bourbon and pushed the glass toward him. He took it and, for a moment, their fingers touched. A sudden warmth zinged through her body and she inhaled sharply. She pulled her hand away and met the heat in his brown gaze.
Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Cheery’s large body slid down the bar, knocking her and Hawk back, away from each other. Glasses shattered, bottles flew, and she landed on her ass. Someone turned up the jukebox and shouts filled the room. Her vision blurred and her palms landed on the sticky, slimy floor.
“Shit.” When she looked up, she saw Cheery’s body hanging off the edge of the bar, his head a few inches away from her chest. His face dripped blood, and shescooted back until an agonizing pain ripped through her hand.
Someone drew Cheery’s enormous body away, and Hawk’s concerned face appeared over the bar. He was focused on her hand. When she followed his line of sight, she saw a lot of blood. Nausea hit hard, and it took her a moment to realize a piece of the glass tequila bottle stuck out of her palm.
Hawk jumped over the bar. Before he could kneel next to her, she turned aside and threw up. That’s when she decided she didn’t just despise Saturday nights that included drunken propositions, motorcycle clubs, and dirty bathrooms.
She absolutely hated them.
ChapterTwo
So far, nothing about Hawk’s night had gone as planned. Not the unexpected meeting he’d had with Eagle before they’d arrived at the bar. Not the blowjob he’d expected from Lara out in the alley but had backed out on at the last minute. And certainly not giving up said blow job because of a pair of green eyes, red hair, and generous tits on Izzy, the Rebel’s Refuge’s waitress he couldn’t seem to forget no matter how hard he tried.
From the moment, weeks ago, when he’d seen the red-haired beauty who Tish called Izzy, the tightness in his lower stomach had led to a raging hard-on he’d been unable to subdue. He’d been successful with getting her into his bed, but then something happened. After many, many nights and hours spent in each other’s naked arms, she left him while he’d been asleep. Since then, she’d barely spoken to him even though they saw each other a lot since the club owned the bar.
Not even basic distractions like Cheery’s celebration, endless alcohol, or Lara’s lips had been able to wipe Izzy from his mind. In fact, since seeing Izzy in the bathroom, the thought of Lara’s mouth on his dick left him nauseous. A situationthat had never happened before. When it came to Izzy, the woman who hadn’t even shared her last name, his emotions were in turmoil. He wasn’t a man who wanted a steady woman, and certainly not an old lady, but something about Izzy left him hard and wanting. All. The. Time.
But, at this moment, none of that mattered. Not his issues with his dick. Not the chaos in the room. Not the headache caused by too much bourbon mixed with the loud music. The only thing that mattered was the fact that Izzy lay on the floor behind the bar with a jagged piece of glass sticking out of her bloody hand.
He found a clean towel on the back counter and gently wrapped it around her bleeding palm. He put pressure on the cut surrounding the glass, not wanting to pull it out yet since he wasn’t sure how deep it went. Then he took her other hand and showed her how to hold the towel to keep up the pressure. “Raise your hand above your heart and stay still. I’ll be right back.”
She barely nodded, and he stood to find the bar in absolute chaos. J.R., the chef who wore a starched white apron, had left his kitchen domain and was throwing chairs at men, both prospects and patched members. Tish was arguing with Eagle about getting this mess under control, and a few of his brothers were passing Lara around on their laps as they did shots.
It didn’t take long to find a glass of water, some more towels, and the first aid kit that Tish kept beneath the counter. Luckily it was a professional kit with everything he’d need to get Izzy stable.
He knelt next to her again, not liking how her freckles showed up on her pale skin, how her eyes were closed, and how shallow her breathing had become. “Hey, darlin’.”
Hidden behind the bar, it felt almost quiet. Or, at least, less wild. Almost as if they were in their own world together. But when her lavender scent slammed into him, sending his dick deep into hard-on zone, he chewed the inside of his cheek to keep himself focused.
She opened her eyes, and he took a few breaths to stabilize his reaction. Her spectacular green eyes looked hazy and unfocused. “What happened?”
“Stupid shit. Like what always happens on Saturday night.” While he loved his brothers, this frat-party-on-steroids routine was getting old. Or maybe it was just the bad mood he’d been fighting off the past few weeks. Since Izzy had left him.
