Oh, crapsicles.
That was a Reapers prospect, and where there were Reapers prospects, there were Reapers. I looked more closely at the bikes, starting to feel just a little sick to my stomach. There was Reese’s ride, and Horse’s. Then I saw a midnight blue custom-painted masterpiece, and knew that I was completely and totally fucked.
Painter was here.
My feet stopped, and I tried to jerk my hand out of Aaron’s.
“We have to go,” I hissed, eyes wide.
“Not until I get my shit,” he said, and while I think he was trying to sound soothing, his hand tightened on mine. “If your ex was really with a club, you’d know it’s a bad idea to argue with me in front of them. Just do what I say and you’ll be fine—you’re totally overreacting here.”
“I’m sorry, Aaron, but you have no idea what you’re talking about. He’s inside, and he can’t see me with you,” I said. “That’s his bike, right there.”
Aaron frowned, and for the first time I thought I saw understanding in his eyes.
“Okay, we’ll make it fast,” he said. “But I can’t leave you out here—it’s one thing if you’re with me, but no way I’d leave a date alone in a place like this. We’ll leave as soon as I find Gunnar.”
For an instant, I considered making a break for it. Just kicking him in the shin and taking off into the trees surrounding the building, but the only thing stupider than showing up at a Silver Bastards party with a strange guy would be causing a big scene. Instead I forced myself to take several deep breaths, then followed him into the bar. Maybe I could hide in the corner, blend in somehow. God, I hoped I could.
The place was packed.
There were girls everywhere—girls in tiny tank tops, girls in bikini tops, and even a few without anything on their tops at all. I could still remember when my boobs were perky like that. Pre-baby, of course. Sigh. Some were carrying around trays of drinks, while others were perched on the laps of more big, burly bikers than I’d ever wanted or needed to see in my life.
Most of them wore Silver Bastard colors, but here and there I saw Reapers patches. There was Reese, standing not far from me. As I watched in horror, a girl who had to be younger than me sidled up to him, wrapping her arm around his waist and nuzzling his chest.
For an instant my heart froze.
Was he cheating on London?
Fuck fuck fuckity fuck, this was bad.
Reese scowled, pushing the girl away roughly enough to make it clear he wasn’t interested. She must have been stoned or something, because she immediately turned to another man, doing the exact same thing to him. I didn’t recognize him, thank God.
This was a nightmare.
“Gunnar!” Aaron shouted, and a huge man wearing only his Silver Bastard colors turned toward us. He had dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, a dark beard, and rich, sexy eyes that scanned me quickly before offering me a smile that sent a shiver down my spine.
Oh my.
Granted, he wasn’t as hot as Painter, but still . . . Why couldn’t Sherri set me up on a date with someone like him? The thought was ridiculous, of course, because I already had way too many bikers in my life. Aaron started walking toward him.
Still no sign of Painter. Perhaps I’d live to date another day after all.
I put my head down, crossing my fingers. Maybe we’d get through this all right after all . . .
“Good to see you,” Gunnar said. “Who’s the girl?”
Aaron put his arm around my shoulder possessively, and I could practically smell the smug he radiated. Ah, wasn’t that sweet—he was proud to have me as a date. Wasn’t that just suicidal of him. God. In the distance, I heard the sound of glass breaking, cutting through the music and conversation all around us. I glanced up, sensing danger. Then Reese’s voice rang out.
“Hold on, son.”
I looked at him, then followed his gaze across the room to see Painter.
Enraged.
He was stalking toward us, eyes full of murder.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
In an instant, Reese was pushing through the crowd, grabbing Painter’s arm. I focused on the gesture—Reese was trying to save me. Pulling away from Aaron, I hissed urgently, “We have to get out of here right now.”
He was too busy watching the show, though, too stupid to realize how much danger he was in. Just like a big, dumb puppy. God, Painter was going to slaughter Aaron. He’d go back to jail, and it would all be my fault. On the bright side, I probably wouldn’t outlive my dumbass date by long, so I guess I had that going for me. Why hadn’t Aaron listened when I told him we needed to leave?
Painter shoved Reese off, then he was in front of us before I could get out a word of explanation. I screamed when he caught the front of Aaron’s shirt, jerking him into the center of the room as his fist slammed into his face. He hit him again, and I found myself screaming even louder when Aaron fell to the ground, Painter following him down like a rabid dog, raining vengeance.
“You asshole!” I shouted, shocked and horrified, because this was hell. It had to be. I’d fallen through a hole in the world, straight into hell, where all my worst fears were coming true. Suddenly Puck was there, dragging Painter off my date, who was moaning and whimpering on the ground.
Puck let Painter go, and now he stood over Aaron, taking deep breaths, the effort to stop fighting almost more than he could handle.
“Get him out of here,” he growled. “Get him out of here before I kill him.”
“Fuck,” Horse said, grabbing Aaron under the arms. A path cleared between him and the door, and I shrieked wordlessly at Painter, angrier than I’d ever been before. What if Aaron pressed charges?
How dare he pull this kind of shit?
He turned on me, face full of terrible purpose as Reese stepped between us, blocking his path.
“Not happening, son,” he said.
“It’s none of your business,” Painter snapped. Damned right—it wasn’t anybody’s business. Stupid fucking bikers, telling people what to do. I was an adult, free to date whoever the hell I wanted. Painter needed to go straight to hell. I’d take him there, too—he might be the big, tough guy but I was a motherfucking nurse. I knew exactly how to kill a man, kill him in ways so terrible he’d be begging for death before I finished.
“She’s the one who came here,” Painter added with a sneer. Oh, fuck him. Fuck him.
“I didn’t even know where we were going!” I shouted. “It was just a date, you asshole!”
“He’s a fucking biker. You broke the rules, Mel. Get your ass over here.”
“Not happening,” Reese said, his voice like thunder. “I am not dealing with this tonight. Painter, get your ass home. Melanie, you’re with me.”
Something dark filled the room, some sort of swirling tension I didn’t understand and didn’t care about, because I’d had just about enough of this shit. Painter and I needed to have this out once and for all. Using every bit of my strength, I shoved Reese out of the way, launching myself toward Painter.
“What I do is none of your goddamned business!”
Painter stared at me, a slow and terrible smile coming over his face.
“Fuck it,” Reese said. “I’m done with both of you.”
I felt a moment of triumph, then Painter took a step toward me, hell in his eyes.
“I’ll give you a ride home, Mel,” he said, softly menacing. “We can talk when we get there. Privacy, you know?”
Oh shit. I looked around frantically, but the wall of men around me didn’t break. They were all there—Ruger, Horse, Banks. Their faces were hard, and I realized in that instant that these men—men who had been so helpful toward me over the years—weren’t my friends.
They were Painter’s brothers.
“Fuck . . .” I whispered, suddenly terrified.
“Maybe we’ll do that, too.”