Viper's Run(3)
Winter frowned. She wasn’t wealthy and even though Vincent was her relative, she had no influence over his business decisions. She sighed silently, getting into her car. Loker would be back in two weeks and it was past time they had a conversation about their relationship.
***
The Pink Slipper was busy tonight, Winter thought while looking around the busy bar.
“Would you like something to drink Winter?” Shelly asked politely.
“I’ll take an iced tea, thank you.” She gazed around the room as Shelly Scott and Lexi Clark talked. The president and vice-president of the PTA had asked her to accompany them to pick up a large donation for the new scoreboard, made by the owner of the Pink Slipper. Usually the athletic director would go, but his wife had gone into labor that morning and Winter had been asked to extend her gratitude on behalf of the students. She loved her job, but she was getting tired of the politics involved.
Loud feminine laughter drew her gaze to a table a few feet away. Winter was surprised when she recognized a familiar face within the boisterous group. Beth Cornett had helped care for her mother toward the latter stages of her cancer. They also attended the same church every Sunday. She almost choked on her tea when she heard Beth call them by their names, Sex Piston, Crazy Bitch, and Killyama. Her eyes widened when she realized the group of women Beth was with must belong to a motorcycle club. She came to that conclusion when their male counterparts entered the bar and didn’t seem happy about their women being in the bar.
Winter tried to be polite, but was unable to restrain her curiosity by watching the argument take place since she practically had a front row seat. She was beginning to become concerned for Beth when the door to the bar opened again. This motorcycle club Winter recognized from the jackets they were wearing. The Last Riders took command the second they entered the bar. The large group headed straight to Beth’s table.
“Beth.”
“Razer?”
“Let’s go.”
“Bitch isn’t going no where with you or your men.” The woman then turned to the man who had taken a seat beside her at the table. “You both need to get back on your machines and leave us to our fun.” The woman with her hair teased and crazy eyes answered for Beth.
“Beth, let’s go, not telling you again.” Beth’s eyes narrowed in anger.
“You don’t have the right to tell me shit. Crazy Bitch is right, you guys need to leave us alone. We were minding our own business until everyone interfered.”
“Minding what was in the pants of those pussy’s you bitches were dancing with when we showed up,” snapped one of the bikers.
“Don’t care what you think Ace. We came to celebrate my shop opening Monday. The same one you, and none of you other assholes wanted to help paint or do shit to help with. Don’t want you guys here tonight; you don’t deserve to be part of our party.”
“Didn’t see that douche bag you had your tongue down his throat doing any hammering there either.”
“Yeah well, he was going to do plenty later tonight,” Sex Piston taunted the biker.
“Was he, or were they?” He jerked his head towards the other club. “Did you plan on hitting their clubhouse next?” The one named Ace asked in a menace-laden voice.
“You kidding me? We were going to fuck around, not betray the club. If we were going to do that, we would have picked one worth the punishment of breaking a rule.”
“Did she just put us down?” One of the Last Riders asked. Winter couldn’t believe how huge the bald headed biker was. He was easily the biggest one in the bar.
“Yes she did, dumbass,” Sex Piston mocked.
Winter saw four women push to the front of the men, standing by the Last Riders. She recognized the attractive one from church. Pastor Dean had even introduced the woman to the congregation as Evie.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” an angry voice asked. Winter’s eyes looked toward the biker who spoke sharply to the women, unable to believe what her eyes were telling her.
“Loker James?” Beth’s questioning voice reverberated through Winter’s shocked mind. She couldn’t suppress a gasp from escaping her lips, drawing his attention. Their gazes met across the room as she took in his tight leather pants, boots, and black t-shirt with a leather vest. The Last Rider’s patches were on the back, proclaiming his membership. The tribal sleeve down one arm was another shock; she hadn’t even known he had a tattoo, much less one so large. She had never seen him in anything but expensive suits with his hair immaculately brushed. Now the dark mass was longer than she would ever believe he would wear it, making him appear just as dangerous as the others standing next to him. Loker had always displayed a brooding presence with his sophisticated appearance. In his biker gear, there was no appearance of sophistication, nothing was civilized about this man. This Loker James was someone to watch warily, then get the hell out of dodge, which is what everyone in the restaurant was doing.