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  Never irritate a vixen—a lesson I learned at a young age. And this girl was certainly a vixen. I licked my lips, imagining what her skin would taste like on my tongue.

  She jostled the wet mop in her hands, her irritation clear. “Useless piece of shit!” I grinned. The woman had a sailor’s mouth to go with those perfect lips. I wanted to learn all the other dirty words she knew.

  Giving up on the mop, she dropped to her knees in front of the toilet and started scooping out the water into the sink with a small bucket. By the way she was cursing and muttering to herself, her movements jerky like she was irritated, this couldn’t be the first time she’d done this today. My smile widened even further. The girl didn’t mind getting on her knees and getting dirty. For some reason, I was impressed.

  After making several trips to the sink from the toilet, she finally managed to empty most of the water from the bowl. Picking up the mop, she cleaned up the rest of the mess on the tiled floors.

  Perspiration bloomed on her exposed lower back where her tight shirt had rode up. The dimples there were the devil’s temptation.

  Sweating, she swiped her arm over her brow and looked down at her fuck-me heels. Those were shit now. That was a bummer because I was a sucker for those red soles. I wanted to feel those digging into me as I drove into her.

  “Fuck my life,” she whispered as she clasped both hands on the top of the mop handle and lowered her head to them. “This has to be the worst day ever.” The position arched her ass in the air and it took all of my restraint to keep my hands off her amazing body.

  Clearly she and I had very different ideas of where this day was going. “Well,” I drawled, stepping towards her, “my day has certainly gotten better.”

  TWO

  MC Encyclopedia

  Indy

  At the unexpected male voice, I leapt in the air like a snake was at my feet. Arms going straight out, I used the mop like a weapon and whirled around, meeting the amused gaze of one of the bikers. “Oh my God, I didn’t see you there!”

  He was a wall that oozed dangerous testosterone, blocking the only exit to the bathroom. His eyes glinted with amusement as he gazed at me fondly. In response, my stomach dropped right out from under me. Oh, great. What was I supposed to do now when even my gut was telling me to run?

  Even in my ruined Louboutins, the biker towered over me, indicating that he was at least six feet. His body showed signs of working out; it was all hard planes and ripped muscles. A myriad of tattoos covered one whole sleeve of his arm.

  My heartbeat refused to slow even as my fear subsided. A sense of danger still lurked, and I realized it emanated from the man in the room with me. By this lopsided grin, he’d obviously been watching me for a while.

  While he stood there like he owned the place, I took in other details. Sharp green eyes. Dark slicked back hair that probably didn’t see a comb too often, just his fingers. His broad shoulders made me feel caged in the room; they took up all the space.

  With the way he was staring at me, I was acutely aware of his presence and gooseflesh promptly broke out on my arms. My heart beat increased in speed and the rhythmic thumping only amplified when he smiled, all teeth. “The bathroom is closed,” I told him.

  “Bang up job you did in here.” He moved towards me and for whatever reason, I found myself taking a step back. “But you may want to try this instead.”

  I watched on with wary eyes as he made his way to the toilet and dropped to his haunches. Reaching behind the porcelain, he found a valve and twisted it. I’m such an idiot! Why didn’t I think of that?

  “There,” he said, straightening from his crouch and wiping his hands on his dark jeans. “Just wait until Hanna can get someone in here to fix it.”

  I nodded, struck speechless at my stupidity.

  “It’s a simple fix,” he went on. “Hanna should have warned you not to push the lever down.” His gaze dropped to my heels. “It’s a shame about the shoes.” A slow smile spread across his lips and even with the dim lighting in here, I noticed something flash around his mouth. A second glance made me realize he had a lip ring. God, how sexy was that?

  As my mind recovered from the distracting sexiness of that piercing, his words settled in. Humiliation spread over me like the water I’d just mopped up. Of all the places I had to meet someone—a member of Glory MC, no less—it had to be in the men’s bathroom, covered in sweat and other questionable fluids! Fate had a sick sense of humor.

  Consumed with a great need for the ground beneath me to swallow me whole, I thanked him and moved to grab the mop and bucket. As I passed him though, the biker’s large hand grasped my arm and pulled back. “What’s your name?” His voice was a rich tone, dark and penetrating.

  “Indy.”

  “Pretty name.”

  Dammit. Why did that simple compliment affect me so much? “Thanks,” I said mildly.

  “Haven’t seen you around here before. Are you new?”

  I nodded. “I just started today.”

  Releasing me, the biker drew a hand over his shadowed jaw. “Hanna’s has needed the help. The woman thinks she can do it all on her own.”

  “She’s done a pretty good job so far.”

  “Yeah, she’s got a sharp mind. But ever since her business partner abandoned her, the work has been piling up. Glory MC helps once in a while, but she is adamant about doing it on her own.”

  I got that sense from her. Hanna seemed like she knew exactly what she wanted and had no problem working for it. But the news about her partner leaving? That was news to me. “Maybe I came at the right time then.”

  “Looks like.” The biker pointed at the toilet. “Although it seems like you have your hands full already.”

  “I think she’s trying to teach me good work ethic.”

  A grin appeared and he nodded. “The best way to learn is to get your hands dirty.” Hearing the word “dirty” fall from his lips made me think of far more filthier things than I’d find in this bathroom. “But don’t you think you’d be a better fit elsewhere?”

  I smiled at his words. “I just started here. Trying to get rid of me already?”

  “No.” He seemed to enjoy my playfulness. “It’s just that smart women know to stay away from Glory MC.”

  “There must be a lot of idiots here then because everyone seems to want a piece of you.”

  “Even you?”

  My first instinct was to say yes. I had no qualms about giving this pony a ride. The whole package of the leather and the tattoos was enough for me to use him as my own personal playground. But I was the newest employee at Neptune’s. Going down that route would only lead to madness, and I was determined to remain on the straight and narrow. On a sigh, I mentally closed the door on that fantasy. “Nope,” I shot back. “I’m one of the smart ones.”

  “Yeah, I can tell.” When he flashed me a grin, I almost flung that fantasy door wide open again. “What time does your shift end?”

  “Um, well . . .” Hyper sexuality was one aspect in a constellation of problems with bipolar disorder. Had he been just a random guy at the bar, I might have honed into him with a berserker rage until I got what I wanted. Yet the next morning, he’d be nothing but a forgotten memory. One-night stands had quickly become a new hobby for me.

  But as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t risk it. Especially not now when I was trying too hard to get my life together. I didn’t know what it was exactly, but this man intrigued me like no other person I had ever met before, and I had no idea why.

  While I did the back and forth with myself, the biker took that opportunity to check me out. His eyes travelled over my face, down to my chest where his gaze intensified before dropping down to my legs, and finally, to my ruined Louboutins. My body buzzed as if he’d physically touched every part of me.

  Then he flipped his gaze up to mine and locked on. While his appearance and his size intimidated the hell out of me, it was that intense gaze that surprised me the most. They looked haunted
, yet experienced, as if he’d seen the worst of life and lived to tell about it. Someone that fearless was a big threat, and I didn’t want to get involved in any way. My life was complicated enough without adding danger into the mix.

  Beneath his scrutiny, I felt completely vulnerable and unprotected. This alpha male had come in here and, true to his nature, had cornered me in this room. Instead of flirting back like I normally would’ve, I retreated. “Sorry. But I just got this job and I have a lot on my plate right now.”

  “It’s okay. If you ever change your mind, let me know.” He flashed me another one of those dazzling smiles as if to show me what I was turning down and then he moved to the doors. “So will I be seeing you around here then?”

  “As long as Hanna doesn’t fire me after today, then yeah, I’ll see you around.” I shot him what I hoped was a schoolgirl smile. “I really appreciate the help.”

  The biker didn’t reply as he left. Once he was gone, I finally allowed myself to breathe.

  Something scared me about him. His eyes saw entirely too much, and it jarred me to think that maybe he knew my biggest secrets with just one look. I left too then, carrying the bucket and the mop in either hand.

  It didn’t occur to me until later that I didn’t even know his name.

  * * *

  Later, the power was restored, and suddenly, the world was back in working order. People were out and about, enjoying the cool air and the music in Neptune’s for as long as they could before another wave hit us.

  Ever since the flares started happening, the world had turned into two different types of people: The recluses and the reckless.

  The recluses were those who hid within their homes, never once venturing out into the sunlight for fear of exposure. Even when it was dark out and the power was on, they still protected themselves. I guess in some ways, it was smart. Being protected wasn’t always a bad thing; it meant survival. And yet I felt sorry for those people who always hid in the shadows, forever fearing the unknown. I had lived there for too long myself and in some ways, the start of the solar flares saved me. It forced me to get out and survive.

  The reckless were people like Hanna and Glory MC, those who lived in the moment. They said fuck the threat of exposure; they were untouchable. Even amidst a flare, Glory MC rode their Harleys through the red mist that coated the sky without their anti-radiation blankets to cover them. The black leather jackets often did more harm in that they caused them to overheat easily, but since the cuts offered protection from more than just the harmful UV rays, the club still wore them with pride. When you were a member of Glory MC, there was always a threat of danger, no matter if the sun went down.

  The first of the flares marked a new ruler in town. With the destruction of power structures, different societies and leaders were seizing control. The world was slowly climbing back from its ruin and as we formed different societies, or Wards, as we called them, each Ward gained a new ruling authority. The current vicinity we lived in was dubbed Ward Four and the top dog was no other than Roth “Knuckle” Haste, president of Glory MC. With his access to resources and the way he emanated power, people listened.

  Seeing him with my own eyes convinced me that all the rumors of him were true. He was as big as they said he was. And as bad and as deadly, too. There were only a few things that mattered to Knuckle—money, loyalty, and the club and if you messed with any of those three, there was a hefty price to pay.

  My best friend, Seven Douglass, was so intrigued by the motorcycle club lifestyle that she had made it her business to know everything about them. To her, it was no different than staying on top of political news. Except these weren’t politicians you were listening to, it was old world criminals.

  The encounter in the men’s bathroom left me rattled more so than it should have. Who was this Green-Eyed Biker with the tats and lip piercing? The question nagged me until it became all I could think of. If anyone knew though, it would be Seven. She knew details about the MC like an encyclopedia. I wanted to ask her, but I also didn’t want to tip her into thinking that something was going on with me and this mystery biker, no matter how much I wished that were true.

  After my first shift had ended, I spent another half hour in Hanna’s back office signing a bunch of employment papers. Following that, I headed straight home for some rest. My feet were rioting against me in my ruined heels. I wobbled as I walked from my parked car to the house and sighed as soon as I kicked off the instruments of torture. The empty canteen of water I brought with me everywhere was tossed on the nearby counter, along with my car keys.

  I called out for Seven, hearing a responding holler from the upstairs bathroom. Taking the steps two at a time, I climbed until I reached the door and slammed it open.

  Seven let out a yelp. “Jesus, Indy. I could’ve cut myself!”

  “Oh, please. I called your name from downstairs. You knew I was coming up here.”

  She shot me a smile in the reflection of the mirror. With her back towards me, I could see one exposed leg propped up against the sink, covered in shaving cream. As our eyes met again in the mirror, my smile faltered just for a second as Seven ran a razor over her calves, the foam piling up on the edge.

  The thing in her hands brought me back to a bad place and I struggled to mentally push it back. I couldn’t go back there right now. Not ever.

  Seven smiled sadly at me as if she could sense my train of thought. “How’d your day go?” she asked cheerfully, choosing to ignore the big elephant in the room.

  I jumped back on track, happy to be escaping the dead end. “I got a job,” I told her.

  “Really? Where?”

  “At Neptune’s.”

  There was a small jingle as the razor Seven dropped clinked against the ceramic basin. Her eyes were wide, the cerulean blue brighter than any ocean. “You’re kidding me!”

  “I shit you not.”

  Shaving long forgotten, she crossed the distance between us. A plop of shaving cream dropped on the rug as she settled beside me. “Was Glory MC there?” She was practically buzzing with excitement.

  I nodded. “That’s actually why I want to talk to you. I met someone but I don’t know who he is.”

  “Is he hot?”

  I laughed. Of course that was the first standard question a girl had to ask. “Kinda.”

  “Was Knuckle there too?”

  My mind drifted back to the scene Hanna and Knuckle made as Glory MC had rolled in. Hanna looked like a small nymph compared to Knuckle’s immense size, and as he curled Hanna around him, the heat they gave off was enough to rival the flares. “Yeah, he was there.” But he wasn’t the one I was interested in.

  “You’re not telling me something . . . ”

  My lips curled into a smile. “All right,” I began, heart beginning to thump loudly in my chest, another odd reaction that was so unlike me. I was normally so blasé about men. But for some reason, I couldn’t get this biker out of my head. “I met one of them and we chatted a bit.” Although the word “chatted” seemed far too tame to describe what happened between us.

  Seven’s eyes sparkled with interest. “And?”

  I recounted the entire “conversation” to her. After I was done, Seven was clutching at her head as if all this would make her head explode. “It’s Ian!” she exclaimed. “It has to be Ian Haste.” At my confused expression, she added, “Knuckle’s son.”

  I tested his name on my lips. “Ian Haste.” Of course he had a sexy name to go along with his sexy body.

  “Yes!” Seven exclaimed, dimples flashing as she grinned. “The club calls him Hastie. I’m a little jealous that you got to meet him before me.” She spoke of Glory MC as if they were celebrities or gods worthy of worship. I guess if anyone were considered to be celebrities in Ward Four, Glory MC would fit that bill. They were recognizable and well known, but I wouldn’t say they were godly.

  Devils.

  They were devils, capable of tempting women straight into hell.

 
; “So now that you’re working at Neptune’s are you going to turn into one of those sweet butts?” Seven asked.

  “What?”

  “A sweet butt,” Seven said again. Yeah. That was what I heard the first time, but I just wanted to make sure. Sweet butts were women who hung around or lived at the clubhouse. They were often considered property of the club.

  “I’m not going to become a sweet butt.”

  Seven looked skeptical.

  “Oh, come on. We talked. Once. In a men’s bathroom, no less. I doubt I made a good first impression.”

  “Hey, you never know. He may have some kind of fetish,” she said with a wink. Laughing, I elbowed her. If Hastie did have one though, I was interested to know.

  “So can I come to Neptune’s with you tomorrow?” The question shouldn’t have surprised me. How could I tell Seven that I worked at Glory MC’s clubhouse and not expect her to want to see it for herself?

  “No way. I have to actually work, you know.” With her presence there, that would be impossible. I had to show Hanna that I was serious about this job.

  Seven stuck her tongue out at me and returned to apply more shaving cream to her unfinished leg. “You suck.”

  “You swallow,” I countered as I left her to finish, shutting the bathroom door between us.

  Her voice echoed through the door. “Only because I’m too lazy to change the sheets!”

  Hooting with laughter, I turned towards my bedroom, thinking of the information I just received.

  So Green-Eyed Biker had a name. Ian Haste.

  Hastie.

  It was really a shame that that was all I knew about him.

  * * *

  I didn’t see Hastie again the next day or even the day after that. And that was a damn relief. Our encounter had unsettled me and I didn’t want anyone, not even Seven to know that it had rattled me so much.

  Neptune’s turned out to be not as bad as I thought despite the encounter in the men’s bathroom. Hanna was nice enough to show me the ropes and by the third day, she allowed me to man the bar myself. It proved that hard work really did pay off. And now my ruined Louboutins wouldn’t be for nothing.