Culver:A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel(9)

By: Meg Jackson




We looked at him, dumbfounded, none of us quite sure what he meant. He chuckled again and shook his head slowly.



“Man, you girls are too cute. You still want weed?”



“Oh, yes! Please! Oh my god, that’s like, the whole reason I came on this trip!” Alicia squealed. I wasn’t so interested in the weed, but I was definitely interested in going wherever Boon was going.



“Okay, little miss, but you should know, the guys I hang around with aren’t the sort of guys you’re probably used to,” Boon said, his brow suddenly furrowing. I could feel Becky tensing up beside me. She smelled danger. So did I, but I ignored it. Like the smell of smoke that tells you your house is burning down, I ignored it.



“What do you mean?” I asked, jumping in before Becky could protest.



“Oh, they’ll treat you alright, if you’re with me. But they’re…a rough crowd,” Boon said tactfully. My stomach did a flip-flop. Was this going to be worth it? Putting myself at risk – for what? For a make-out with a stranger? There were tons of strangers around me. I could pick anyone else at that bar and get the same thing I could get from Boon. Except…not really. I knew he was different. I knew because I’d never wanted anyone before.



And I wanted him.



“Well, I’m not afraid,” Alicia said, straightening up in her seat and gathering her purse. “Shall we?”



“Guys, I don’t know,” Becky said, sipping her drink and looking at us with nervous eyes.



“Trust me, it’s perfectly safe,” Boon said, looking at Becky. She softened under his assured gaze, much to my relief. With all of us on board, we closed out our tab and took to the streets.





~ 6 ~



The night was warm, and the strip was packed with bodies in varying states of inebriation. Boon led us, swerving left and right, down side-streets and alleys. As we walked, we allowed ourselves to be swept away in the beautiful night and our own semi-drunk states, singing at the top of our lungs and laughing all the way. Becky was a little sketched out, but I had to admit I was proud of her for even making it this far. Generally, Becky liked to stay close to the shore.



Finally, we arrived at a small, seedy-looking bar that had rows upon rows of motorcycles parked out front. The neighborhood was comparatively quiet, for Las Vegas at least, and I worried for a second about being able to find our way home. Or being raped and left for dead, said the worrying voice in the very back of my head. I pushed it away and followed Boon into the dimly lit bar, the smell of cigarettes and old beer assaulting my nostrils as soon as I entered.



There were probably thirty or so older men sitting around the bar, which had two female bartenders. Everyone was dressed in black leather. This was the first time I’d ever been in a “biker bar”, and I found myself blushing. Alicia, Becky, and I definitely didn’t fit in with our short party dresses and high heels. Every man in the bar turned to look at us as the door slammed shut behind us. They were all smiling, some innocently, some not-so-innocently.



It seemed like Boon knew everyone in the bar; he walked from table to table giving out high-fives and handshakes. We all followed; I could feel Becky’s anxiety baking off her, while Alicia, to her credit, acted like she totally belonged there, not a care in the world. Finally, we found ourselves at the long bar.



“What’ll it be?” Asked the young, attractive bartender, giving Boon a huge smile. I tried not to notice the way she rolled her eyes a bit when she glanced at me and my friends.



“Four of your cheapest beers, please, ma’am,” Boon said, smiling back at the bartender, his impossibly white teeth gleaming in the dim lighting. That smile…it made me forget where I was, who I was with, what I was doing.

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