“Hey.” She jolted along at an almost jog since my legs were longer than hers. “You’re the boss, Dis. You aren’t supposed to be this keen to get your employee out the door.”
“Did you just hear what happened with Nash and Caleb?”
Her face fell. “The whole bar heard, Dis. What Nash said—”
“I wasn’t really naked on his desk, you know that, right?”
“Sure. I mean, the door was open. But I was kinda hot at the idea of it.” She giggled, fanning her face with her fingers. “Aren’t you?”
I was hot. I was so freaking hot I was sure you could relabel me an incinerator. The heat licked through my entire body, centering between my thighs.
The cool night air outside the bar was heavenly, and when I got in my car, I immediately put the window down, letting more of it in. My entire body felt too warm, my skin too tight.
Rebel watched me, laughter brewing on her lips. “Oh, Dis. You got it so bad, baby.”
I couldn’t even deny it. I just nodded.
She slapped my thigh. “Don’t worry. Nash might be an idiot and sticking to his whole big brother act, but there’s a clubhouse full of sinfully hot bikers at this party we’re going to tonight, and I guarantee, at least one of them will not mind you taking out your sexual frustrations on them.”
War’s ruggedly handsome face flashed in my mind, and the heat inside me flared again.
I needed somewhere for it to go.
I needed to take my frustrations out on someone. I needed a release.
The sooner we got to the party the better.
23
BLISS
The Slayers’ MC compound was like a mini jail on the outskirts of Saint View, the woods surrounding it on all four sides, and only a narrow private road making it accessible by car. The tall, barbed-wire-topped fence started at the turnoff, and we’d been driving for five minutes along the bumping lane, trying to get to the gate.
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” I asked Rebel for the third time. I peered out the window. There were a few houses here and there, their lights visible through the thick trees, but it wasn’t like the road was signposted with a cheery “Welcome! Club entrance 200 yards on your left.”
“I’m sure. The entrance is just up ahead. Listen, before we go in. Do you need a safe word?”
I gaped at her. “For what?”
“If you want out.”
I swallowed thickly, nerves rocketing around my stomach. Maybe I did need one. It couldn’t hurt. “Sandwiches.”
Rebel raised an eyebrow. “Okay then. Interesting choice, but sandwiches it is. You want out, just…make out like you’re planning a picnic.”
“Could I not just say, let’s go?”
“Probably, but I don’t think I need to explain to you where we are. These guys aren’t always polite company. War runs a tight ship. He’d never let anyone get hurt, but he’s not gonna protect you from crude language or a slap to the ass either, you know? You’re probably gonna see stuff that doesn’t happen at your five-course dinner parties.”
A set of huge metal gates loomed ahead of us. The Slayers’ logo right in the middle, a hooded demon with a scythe in its hand in the center.
It was almost as terrifying as Psychos’ logo.
“Last chance to bail, Dis. You in or you out?”
“I’m in.”
“That’s my girl.” She shimmied her slight shoulders with excitement. “We’re gonna have the best night. These guys, Bliss. They’re fucking hot. If the bad boy thing does it for you, that is.”
I wasn’t sure if it did or not. Caleb was certainly the complete opposite of a bad boy. And Vincent had a very clean-cut, preppy look about him too. Nash was definitely headed more toward bad boy in terms of his appearance, but Nash was nice right down to his very soul.
But there was no doubting I was attracted to War. I had been from the moment I’d seen him at the police station.
I stopped the car to pause at the gate, and a hooded figure stepped from the shadows, his MC cut tight on his chest, a sawed-off shotgun in one hand.
A trickle of fear rolled down my spine at the huge, intimidating man walking our way. I had no idea what his name was, but it should have been Tree Trunk. Because he was as tall and as thick as one. Rebel stuck her head out the window and waved. “You wanna let us in, Fang? Just me.”
“That ain’t your car, Rebel. Who’s with you?”
“Bliss Arthur? War invited her.”
A look of recognition crossed the man’s face, but he still bent down to peer through my open window.