When the man pulled himself up off the floor, blood pooled from his busted lip. “You fucking cunt!” he screamed. I tried scrambling away on the table, but I had nowhere to go. His fist pounded into the side of my head. The world around me spun in a dizzying flurry before the dark curtain of my nightmare came crashing down.
As Alexandra’s taillights faded in the distance, I pounded my shitkickers down the porch steps. Flicking my cigarette butt into the bushes, I made my way down to the clubhouse. Just like her, I couldn’t manage to sit down at a table full of my family right now. More than anything, I needed something to block her from my mind. Her scent clung to my body and fingers while her taste still resided on my tongue. I found myself completely fixated on her. Considering the half-mast erection I still sported, my body was still thinking of her, too. Taking an emotional and sexual stroll down memory lane wasn’t something I was used to doing, and it was freaking me the fuck out. The very fact Alexandra had this much effect on me when we hadn’t fully fucked was even more mystifying.
The sound of Archer’s pipes roaring to life brought me out of my thoughts. Every night I had the prospect follow Alexandra home and make sure she was safe. I had instructed him to always hang back a little because I didn’t want to spook her that her life might be in danger because of her association with me. Because she was also way too smart for her own good, I didn’t want to arouse any more suspicion about how dark my dealings were.
I gave a nod at Bubba and Ollie as I headed in the back door. Since it was a Friday night, the clubhouse was filled with members from in and out of town. From the looks of it, all the rooms would be used.
I slid across one of the worn barstools. I didn’t even have to flag Cheyenne down. Like she possessed some kind of “Deacon radar,” she had been alerted to my presence the moment I’d walked in. I had felt the heat of her eyes seeking me out as I walked through the crowd, stopping to say hello to some of the out-of-town members.
With her palms planted on the bar, she leaned in, cocking her brows at me. I shook my head at her behavior. She always knew what I wanted and usually hauled ass to get it for me. “What crawled up your ass tonight? Get me the usual. Now.”
Shooting me an “eat shit and die look,” Cheyenne shoved her hands off the bar in a huff and then went to snatch me a beer out of the fridge. After popping the top on it, she thrust it across the bar to me. But when I reached for it, she jerked it away from me. I narrowed my eyes at her. “Seriously, bitch, what the fuck is your problem tonight?”
She slammed the beer bottle down in front of me. “I think I’m the one who should be asking that question.”
“Excuse me?”
Cheyenne crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you fucking her?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be an asshole, Deacon. You know exactly who I’m talking about. The little white-bread bitch who has been making doe eyes at you since the day she walked in here.”
I took a pull of my longneck. “Alexandra. Her name is Alexandra,” I replied.
At the mention of her name, Cheyenne’s nostrils flared in rage. “I don’t give a fuck what her name is. I do give a fuck about the fact that you’ve just waltzed in here with her scent all over you, not to mention the fact you got fucked-up hair and your lips are colored from her lipstick.”
“Last time I checked, you ain’t my old lady, and there ain’t no ‘Property of Deacon’ patch on your back. So you best not be sticking your nose in my business.”
My declaration caused the angry expression carved into her face to recede, and in its place, there was one of extreme hurt. “Deacon, you know how I feel about you—” she began in a shaky voice. My phone buzzing in my pocket interrupted her. I dug it out and glanced at the ID. Unease washed over me as I accepted the call.
“What’s wrong, Archer?”
“Fuck, man. Some asshole shot out my back tire as I was tailing Alexandra. I skidded out. My bike is a fucking mess. Someone called the cops because I’m bleeding and shit, and then—”
“I’ve got it from here. Call Rev. Give him the lowdown and have him and the boys meet me there.” Before Archer could say another word, I cut off the call. In a flash, I was off the stool and sprinting for the door.
“Deacon?” Cheyenne called after me.
I ignored her. As I threw open the clubhouse door, I eyed one of the older members leaning against the hood of his car, talking to one of the club whores. Pointing to the car, I said, “I need to borrow that. Now.”