He dips his chin, then turns to Jovie. “And you…” He chuckles. “You’re the most important one of all. I need you to take care of these two for me because heaven only knows they’re gonna need someone watching out for them.”
“You got it…” Jovie smiles. “Rush?”
He widens his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Thank you. For being so down to earth with us. And for taking care of Sav.”
He peers over his shoulder at her. “You guys made it easy.” He sighs heavily, then turns toward the door. “It’s been nice knowing you.” Then he takes off without looking back.
Savanah folds her arms over her chest, obviously to support herself. Jovie stands, walks over to her friend as the door clicks shut. And just like that, Rush is gone from our lives.
In and out like a thief in the night.
Jovie wraps her arms around Savanah as they stand there holding each other.
“Don’t be sad, girls. Let’s celebrate that Rush came into our lives. The man’s not dead. So, how about we all head down to Bourbon Street and have a look around?”
Savanah stands taller. “Yeah, I like this idea. I don’t wanna mope. That’s not who I am. I had a great fling with a freaking rock star. It’s something I’ll tell my grandkids about to annoy their grandfather, who will hate the fact I slept with a famous rock star!”
Jovie and I burst out laughing. “That’s the spirit,” Jovie reassures.
“Let’s go find something weird to look at,” I offer.
“So, we’ll stay here and look at your face, then?” Savanah quips.
I smile as she winks at me.
“Aaand… she’s back, ladies and gentlemen.” Jovie grabs my hand, and then Savanah’s, and starts pulling us toward the door. “C’mon, I wanna go check out the voodoo shop.”
We walk to the door, but as I go to open it, there’s a knock on the other side.
“Did Rush forget something?”
JOVIE
In the doorway stand three huge men, all wearing scruffy jeans, tight tees, and leather cuts. I tense, taking in their appearance. The main guy in the front is dark, broody, imposing, a little scary, but sexy all at the same time. The other two are not as ominous but still have that edge about them. They eye Kevlar up and down. The main guy’s lip twitches as he lets out a growl.
“Where’s your cut? You be disrespectin’ the brotherhood by not wearin’ it!” His voice is low, thick with Louisiana twang.
Kevlar snorts. “Don’t be an asshole, Hurricane. You know I’m laying low.”
The broody biker, who we now know is named Hurricane, breaks character by bursting out laughing. Then he pulls Kevlar into an all-man back-slapping embrace. I glimpse at Savanah, and she shrugs as Kevlar chuckles along with him. “Fuck, it’s good to see you, brother.”
They pull back and look at each other. There’s some kind of mutual understanding passing through them.
“It’s been a damn long time… I wish Em was here,” Hurricane laments.
Kevlar exhales, nodding his head but doesn’t say anything. I think maybe that’s for my benefit.
“You gonna invite us in? It’s rude to keep NOLA Defiance waiting, Kevlar,” the one to the left announces.
Hurricane smirks as Kevlar waves his hand back. “Guys, this is Jovie and Savanah. Girls, this is Hurricane. He’s the president. Razor, their VP. Then you have Bayou, Sergeant-at-Arms.”
Savanah and I follow along, trying to understand what that all means.
“Are they from your club?” Savanah asks.
“Same club, different chapter. But we’re old friend—”
“Friends is a… loose term—”
“Shut up, Bayou.” Kevlar smiles wide at Bayou, who winks at us.
“Well, then, non-friends, come on in,” I offer, standing back out of the way.
Hurricane’s eyes flow up and down my body, then he grins. “Well, if a lady tells me to come, then I’m damn well gonna come.”
I widen my eyes as the three men chuckle, walking inside.
Kevlar closes the door. “He’s joking, Jovie. They’re all talk.”
We head toward the bedroom, where the three bikers are walking around taking everything in. “Is this what you guys are like in Houston?”
“Sometimes, but not so much.”
Savanah walks straight over to Hurricane, eyeing him up and down. With her tiny stature, he’s massive compared to her. His eyes bore into her with a gruff smile. “Well, hey there, sweet thang.”
“You always view women as a piece of meat?”
Hurricane widens his eyes as Kevlar and I step closer, assessing the unfolding conversation. Bayou and Razor both chuckle to themselves.
Hurricane furrows his brow at Savanah. “What the hell do you mean?”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Well, all this macho talk, does it actually work on women? Do you have them falling at your feet?”
“The club girls sure do.”
Savanah scoffs. “Aren’t they supposed to? That’s not a real gauge, Hurricane. Stop acting like a womanizer, and you might actually find a woman to appreciate you for you.”
“Who the fuck are you… talkin’ to me like that? Where’d she come from, Kevlar?” Hurricane grunts.
Kevlar goes to talk, but Savanah shoves her pointer finger right into Hurricane’s chest, making him look back down at her. “Who the fuck am I? Who the fuck are you? You might be the president of a motorcycle club, mister, but you don’t scare me. You don’t fool me either. Get your head out of your ass and treat women with a little respect. Then you might actually get somewhere with them.”
Hurricane grabs Savanah’s wrist, his eyes locking in on her as I tense up, but her lips turn upward. He’s obviously not doing it hard as he shakes his head. “You’re damn near crazy. Comin’ at me like that. I could have you fuckin’ killed!”
Savanah smirks. “But you won’t.”
Hurricane scoffs under his breath. “No… I won’t… I damn-well like you, Savanah. You have lady balls.”
Kevlar tilts his head in understanding. “Sav certainly knows when to call you on your bullshit.”
Hurricane turns to face us, dropping Savanah’s hand. “Enough of this. I need you to tell me what the hell is goin’ on, Kevlar. Why are you here? It must be bad if you’re willin’ to come back to N’awlins without Em.”
“Let’s have a seat, and maybe open the minibar. We need drinks for this.”
“It’s still morning?” I question.
The four bikers in the room laugh. “We’re bikers, gorgeous. We drink any fucking time if the need calls for it,” Bayou confirms.
Nodding my head, I move to the small refrigerator grabbing out the four beers, the tiny bottle of Baileys, and the miniature vodka, walking them all over. I hand the guys each a beer, making Hurricane raise his brow at me, then Savanah the Baileys. “Bottom’s up!”
I clink my vodka to Kevlar’s beer, and he dips his chin at me.
Hurricane rolls his shoulders. “Jovie, you a waitress?”