I couldn’t protect him now. He’d be lucky to leave this place in anything less than a body bag.
I could hear their laughter as my brother and the rest of the MC walked up to the front door. I was tempted to text Jimmy before he drove up to give him a heads up that some stranger was in our bar, but something about this man made me want to protect him—now I was too late. My eyes swiveled over to where the strange man sat. He was encased in shadows and didn’t seem concerned that a handful of bikers were about to enter the bar.
“Faith, a round of beers for the family!” my brother Jimmy, also known as Scythe, shouted as he slammed open the front door. “It’s time for a celebration! Cipher has been officially patched in as one of our brothers.” The members of the Devil’s Armada filed in like elephants marching in a line, a few of them toted skanky girls on their arms, while the others plopped down in vacant booths. Nobody seemed to notice the strange man in the back of the room.
Jimmy wandered up to the bar with his arm around Cipher’s shoulders. I quickly grabbed two beers and handed one to my brother and the other to Cipher. They both took their drinks greedily. They clinked glasses before downing their first drop, then plopped down into the chairs at the bar.
I was happy that Cipher had found a home with us. He was young and new to the club, but he had proven his loyalty enough for my brother to patch him in the second his mandatory year as a prospect was up. He’d been hanging around the clubhouse for quite some time and his unusual talents were what first attracted my brother to him. That’s how he got his name, Cipher was a genius when it came to anything electronic, and his hacking skills were definitely an asset this club needed, especially with all the shit my brother seemed to be getting into lately.
The club had taken an ugly turn when my father was forced to step down from his position. After my brother was patched in as president, the club went from law-abiding citizens to outlaws within days. I did my best to keep my nose out of club business, but sometimes they forget that I am here, and I overhear things I shouldn’t.
I liked to believe that it isn’t my brother’s fault that the club has gone south. Switchblade, his VP, and Guerrilla, his SGT at Arms, are bad influences on my brother, they are always encouraging him to get involved in bad shit. My dad would’ve never let the club get this bad. Half the senior members left when my dad was asked to step down, and my brother had no problem filling their spots with lowlife assholes that spent most of their time in jail or on drugs. Cipher seemed different though, he wasn’t like the others. I actually liked him, as did most of the sweetbutts looking for a man to break them in. Not only was he easy on the eyes, but his intelligence was far more advanced than any of the beer drinking thugs who hung around my brother and Switchblade. There were only a handful of members in the Devil’s Armada that I actually liked besides my brother and Cipher, the ones I did like, were friends of my dad’s and promised him that they would stick around to protect me. Everyone else could go to hell for all I care.
I was so busy grabbing the family their drinks, that I didn’t even notice someone invading my space behind the bar.
“Let me buy you a drink,” a slimy voice whispered into my ear. “Then we can go back to my room and have a little fun.” My skin crawled the second Switchblade ran his greasy fingers down my arm. I flinched away from him and moved so I couldn’t feel his sad attempt of a hard-on behind me.
“You know better than to be behind my bar, Curtis.” I said his real name with a sarcastic tone, showing him how little I actually thought of him. Switchblade was proud of his nickname and didn’t allow anyone to call him Curtis, which is why I made sure to use it as much as possible. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy, I guess. He had all the makings of being attractive: tall, long blonde hair that looked like it was hardly ever washed, and he was beefy in that “I spend too much time at the gym” sort of way. Yeah, I guess other women would find Switchblade’s meathead exterior appealing, but his attitude only made him ugly to me, and I couldn’t see past his playboy, over-confident persona to consider him as anything but a thorn in my brother’s side and a mosquito I wanted to slap the shit out of.
His brow arched, his mouth pulling into an unnatural sneer. “The name’s fucking Switchblade, Bitch, and you know not to call me anything else.”
“Watch it, Switchblade. That’s my sister you’re calling a bitch, and I won’t allow you to talk to her like that,” my brother defended me.
Switchblade’s eyes cut over to my brother, before he reluctantly moved out from behind the bar. “She needs to be tied down, Scythe. A woman shouldn’t be able to run her mouth like she does. She needs to become someone’s Old Lady—mine to be exact. I’d keep her in line better than anyone else in the club, and if she didn’t listen, she would after I was fucking done with her.” He raised a hand, threatening me with an unclenched fist.
Both Cipher and my brother quickly stood up, wedging themselves between Switchblade and me.
I rolled my eyes. I would never be any man’s Old Lady, and I sure as shit wouldn’t be tied to someone as sleazy as Switchblade.
“You need a fucking genie to make that wish come true, Curtis. I wouldn’t touch your dick with a ten-foot pole, let alone allow you to claim me as your Old Lady. Go fuck yourself.”
Switchblade lurched over the bar, grabbing me forcefully by the shirt. “Lessons begin now, Bitch, what’s my fucking name? You better get it right this time!”
“Curtis,” I smarted.
Switchblade’s brow arched menacingly, and before I knew what was happening, his hand was cocked back and flying right for my face.
Inches he came from punching my nose before someone jumped in and grabbed his arm mid swing.
“If you want to keep this arm, I suggest you never touch her ever again.” Seductive, Southern, and goddamn sexy, that’s what the mystery man’s voice sounded like as he took charge of the situation. The fact that he would jump in and grab Switchblade’s arm, when the whole club was in the bar watching us, is both a turn on and a little alarming. The dude definitely had a death wish.
“What the fuck?” Switchblade growled and wrenched his hand out of the stranger’s grasp. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Just a man whose drink was disturbed by your blatant display of machismo. Do you have to hit a woman to make you feel more like a man?”
Switchblade pulled out his knife and toyed with it in his hands. He pressed a button and the silver blade magically popped out of the hilt. The cold metal played with the neon bar lights, reflecting them on its surface.
“You’re gonna die mother-fucker.”
The stranger reached behind his back and pulled out a gun, aiming it at Switchblade’s head. “Never bring a knife to a gun fight, Son.”
Every man in the building was suddenly on their feet, ready to kill on command. Half the guns that were hidden behind people’s backs were now pulled and aimed at the mysterious stranger whose gaze was fixated only on Switchblade.
“Stop it!” I screamed, desperate to break up the nonsense. “Both of you need to calm the fuck down. Mister, I don’t know who you are, and although I do appreciate you stepping in to help me, I don’t need any man to defend my honor. I’m a big girl and can take care of myself. As for you, Curtis. Learn to take a fucking joke.”