“Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. Just getting old, I guess.”
“Here.” She handed him the paperwork. “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait around for this guy to show up?”
“No. You go. Have a good time. And, Sara, be careful.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“Yeah. But you’ll have those two nutcases with you. Sometimes you’re so busy trying to prevent them from doing something stupid, you end up in the middle of a shit storm. I’d rather no more late-night calls from deputies if you can help it.”
“You act like that happened a lot. Six…seven times top.”
Sara grinned and Marrec laughed and shook his head. “Go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Slipping on her leather jacket, “Not too early, though.”
With a snort, Marrec barked back, “When the hell have you ever been early for anything, Sara Morrighan?”
The arguing about clothes began as soon as Sara picked Miki and Angelina up that evening. The moment they were both in the vehicle, Angie and Miki started yelling. That was at six. Sara looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was now ten-twenty and these bitches were still at it. Well, she really wanted to go to this thing, so she wasn’t waiting a minute longer.
“She is not wearing that.”
“And exactly what is wrong with this?” Miki demanded as she held up a long, but very pretty sundress. Where the hell Miki got that dress from, Sara had no idea. It definitely didn’t come from either of their closets…and never would either.
“She’s not a nun. She’s a horny girl who needs to get laid. The least we can do, as her friends, is help her out. That’s why she should wear this.” Angelina held up the tiny, black hot pants she still had clutched in her hand. Forget the scars on her leg, Sara wouldn’t wear that fucking thing on principle.
“That’s just trashy,” Miki snapped. “She’s not going out like that. Ever.”
Sara was done. These idiots would go all night if she didn’t do something. She pushed herself away from the wall she’d been leaning against and headed toward the door. Her friends stopped arguing as Sara walked by them. She didn’t even glance in their direction.
Not willing to leave her wardrobe decisions up to these two psychos, Sara tied her hair into a loose French braid, threw on a green camouflage skirt that landed just above her knee, with a slit up the right side of her leg. Then she added her favorite old pair of black cowboy boots, her thin but deadly weapon concealed inside its leather, and a green tank top. For good measure, she even had on her black cowboy hat pulled low in front of her face.
She stormed out of her house, but not before yelling, “You two bitches coming or what?”
“Little party?” That was the third time Miki had said the same thing. It started an hour ago as they waited in a long line of cars heading to the park. Then they waited for a parking space. Now they were standing in a long line of people waiting to get into what Sara knew to be a huge all-night rave. A well-organized, well-run rave.
“Christ, would you quit complaining.” Angelina was already grooving to the pounding music. “Just relax.”
Sara shook her head. Angie could enjoy herself anywhere—even in line.
It took awhile but they finally made it to the entrance. Large hulking men took money and checked for weapons, which seemed to relax Miki—at least a bit.
Sara stood in front of them. She was hoping this thing wouldn’t cost a fortune. She only had fifty dollars in her pocket.
The largest of the men looked down at Sara. He stared at her and, for a moment, she wondered if he somehow saw the blade she’d hidden in her boot. Instead he nodded. “Go on in.”
Sara scratched her forehead in confusion. “I…uh…”
“What’s up?” Angelina asked from behind her.
“They can go, too.”
“But—”
“You’re on the list.”
Except he hadn’t checked his list. He hadn’t done anything. Just kind of looked at her.
“Sweet!” Angelina cheered. “Let’s go.”
Before Sara could ask any questions, Angelina shoved her past the men and into a huge clearing. In the center were a couple hundred people dancing. Booths selling food, liquor and T-shirts separated the clearing from the dense forest the three friends had hunted in more than once.
Sara had never seen anything like this before. She’d gone to quite a few raves in her less-than-wild past, but they were always near or in Austin. This was her boring hometown. Raves didn’t come out this far.
Angelina stood next to her and, her beautiful face flush with excitement, raised both arms in the air and let out a “Whoooowho! This fuckin’ rocks!” Grabbing Sara’s arm, Angie yanked her right into the dancing, writhing crowd. Miki followed and for the first time in a long time, Sara saw her smile.
It had been a couple of years since the last rave they’d gone to together. Miki had school and two jobs. Angelina had her own business, although she never seemed to be there—“That’s why I have a staff.” And now that they knew there was no biker gang waiting to drug them, rape them, and send them off to Taiwan to be whores—Miki’s contention—the friends silently decided that on this clear, chilly night they would relax and just have a good time.
Zach easily caught the beer Conall tossed at his head without his eyes ever leaving the partying crowd.
“Crowd looks pretty good tonight, huh?” Conall walked behind Zach, his own beer grasped firmly in hand.
“Guess.” Zach took a long gulp, and went back to scanning the crowd.
“Not here yet, is she?”
Zach glanced at his friend. “Who?”
Conall smirked. “Zach, don’t bullshit me.”
He was right, of course. Zach was looking for her. He couldn’t stop himself from looking for her. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since she shoved her tongue in his mouth.
“Oh, her.” He tried to sound disinterested. “Yates still wants me babysitting her. That’s all.”
“Yeah. That’s all.” Conall could at least pretend to buy his brand of bullshit.
“She’s probably not coming anyway. Your big-mouthed girlfriend probably talked her out of it.”
“I have to ask you not to call the woman I love my girlfriend—she’s my future wife!” Zach shook his head at Conall’s goofy grin. A goofy grin that successfully hid a predator. “Besides,” his friend continued, “that Latina was definitely coming and I’m thinking she’s not coming here without ‘em.”
Zach hoped Conall was right. He needed to see Sara. To prove to himself she wasn’t anything but a distraction. A problem to be solved. Nothing more. Yeah, right.
It was the “Whoooowho! This fuckin’ rocks!” that caught his and Conall’s attention. Christ, these women were loud.
Zach looked through the crowd, his eyes picking up images others would never see. He caught sight of her quickly. Angelina dragging Sara and the other one to the middle of the rave. This was definitely not their first all-night rave. They had no purses. No jackets. And they were prepared to sweat the night away.
Angelina had her long hair in a ponytail, allowing the black bustier she wore to be seen in all its tight, form-fitting glory. Plus, baggy blue jeans and sneakers. And the thong peeking out from under her jeans a nice, sexy touch. The one with the mouth had on a tight belly shirt displaying a gorgeous set of abs he could hear Conall growling over, shorts, and hiking boots.
Sara sported a tank top, green camouflage skirt with cowboy boots, and a hat that on anyone else he would have said looked stupid. Yet it worked for her. Although he figured she wore it to hide the scar on her face, the logic of which completely escaped him.
Sara didn’t dance. Her damaged leg prevented that. But she moved really well. Nothing elaborate or fancy, and her moves weren’t exactly “stripper-hot”, which he and Conall learned to appreciate over the years. Whatever she did, though, made his dick bang against the inside of his jeans demanding release…release into
her.
Tragically, Conall was not fairing so well. “My. God. She is the worst dancer I’ve ever seen.”
Zach had forgotten there was anyone else at the rave until Conall spoke. He glanced over and took in Miki’s idea of dancing. It was kind of sad…and frightening. Yet clearly she was having a good time.
“But,” Conall added, “her ass looks great in those shorts.”
Zach shook his head, the man was absolutely hopeless.
Miki snarled and swung around again, looking behind her.
“Okay. I didn’t imagine that!” she screamed over the pulsing music.
Sara and Angie glanced at each other and back at Miki.
“What are you talking about?” Sara asked.
“Someone keeps sniffing my ass.”
After a long moment of staring at her, Sara and Angie finally burst out laughing.
“It’s not funny!”
“Yes it is!” they said in unison.
Before Miki could storm off, Sara grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Dude, it’s okay. Not a big deal. They’re probably rolling or something and your ass just happened to be there.”
“That’s no excuse to…” Miki made a strange face then leaned in and whispered in her ear, “…sniff my ass!”
“I know. It’s definitely in bad taste, but I wouldn’t sweat it too much. Okay?”
“I just wish I had my shotgun.” Miki glared at the people around her. “Cause someone would be wearing some goddamn buckshot!”
Zach motioned to two of the men in charge of security. There were others he could call on, but he trusted these two to do what he told them to.
“See that guy over there?” He pointed and both men looked at the guy who had harassed Sara in her truck the morning before. “I want him to go away and not come back.”
One of the men, affectionately referred to as Ox, frowned. “You want him to go away…forever?”
Zach closed his eyes. “No.” And it took all his strength not to finish with, “Dumbass.”
“Just make him leave and I don’t want him back tonight. But I don’t want any unidentified bodies tomorrow morning.”
“Got it.” Ox and his partner walked off and Conall suddenly slid out of the dancing crowd and again stood beside Zach.
It was the forced innocent look on his face that had Zach shaking his head.
“You sniffed her ass, didn’t you?”
Conall didn’t even bother hiding his grin.
After about a full hour or so of straight dancing, Miki motioned that the water bottle she’d brought with her was empty. Sara and Miki moved through the crowd, leaving Angelina behind. She’d found herself a nice group of beautiful boys to dance with and seemed happy enough.
“Great music, huh?” Miki asked when they finally extricated themselves from the dancing bodies.
“Amazing!” There were top-notch European DJs here. Sara recognized several of them from music magazines and a few high-level Austin raves. How did some, to quote Miki, “low-life bikers” get DJs like these to come out to the middle of nowhere?
The pair made their way to the edge of the park grounds. The first booth they hit manned by two tall women.
“Is it me or are a lot of these females mammoth size?” Miki muttered, almost to herself. Almost. Clearly the two women heard her as they turned and glared.
“Two waters.” Sara spoke quickly hoping she could avoid one of those fights caused by Miki’s big mouth.
One of the women moved over to them and looked at Sara. Looked at her hard for several long seconds. Uh-oh, I am going to have to fight. Fuckin’ Miki! Sara clenched her hand into a tight fist, ready to use it if necessary, as she closely watched the woman reach under the fold-out table and grab two waters and hand them over.
Sara, releasing a breath, went to pull cash out of her back pocket but the woman stopped her. “Take it. No charge.”
Sara looked at the sign clearly listing water bottle prices. And the tiny bottles she held were five dollars each. This was getting weird.
“Why?”
“Take the water and go.” Without another word, the woman returned to her friend.
“What the hell—”
“Hi.” Sara and Miki discovered Miki’s big blond stalker standing next to them. He nodded at Sara but smiled at Miki.
“Hi,” Sara answered. “Nice little party.”
“Thanks. Name’s Conall.” It was like Sara and the other three hundred people weren’t even there.”
Miki blinked. “Great.”
It was, in fact, physically painful to watch Miki and Conall stand there, with absolutely no idea what to say next.
“Well…” Miki glanced at Sara, and Sara let her know with one look she was on her own. Mostly because she found the whole thing funny as hell…and cute. Very cute.
Glaring at Sara, Miki decided to make a break for it. “Bye.” Miki took her bottle of water and walked off.
Sara’s head tilted to the side as she watched the dejected expression on Conall’s face. Nope, she simply couldn’t help herself. “Well, don’t just stand there. Go get her.”
Conall sighed. “I think she hates me.”
“Are you kidding? She really likes you. She’s just shy.”
“Really?” With that, he disappeared into the crowd, searching for the elusive Miki.
Sara let out a laugh as she realized Miki would make her pay dearly for this tomorrow.
“Having a good time fuckin’ with my friend?”
Or she may be paying for it a lot sooner.
He was behind her, his hot breath in her ear, as he leaned into her. He didn’t touch her, but her entire body was on fire wanting him to touch her.
“I didn’t…” She couldn’t even finish her sentence. This is getting ridiculous! She forced her body to move away from him. “Look, I don’t have to explain myself to you,” she snapped and turned to face him. Great. The sleeveless Harley T-shirt he wore, revealing extremely large tanned muscular arms sporting tattoos on both triceps and his left forearm, so did not help her composure. She did always have a thing for guys with tattoos. “And I’m sure your sturdy friend there can take care of himself.”
“Against her? Are you kidding? That girl’s mean as a snake.”
“No, she’s—don’t talk about my friends.”
“Don’t mess with mine.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
The two stood staring at each other, and Sara didn’t know whether to punch him in the stomach or lick the black tribal tattoo on his right shoulder.
In order to avoid both, she turned and walked away. She’d gotten several feet when she realized he was walking beside her. She stopped. “What?”
“I didn’t say a word.”
Sara took several more steps but realized he was still there with her. She stopped again, this time turning to face him. “What are you doing?”
“Living life to its fullest.”
Sara’s eyes narrowed. “Go away.”
“Why?” Zach leaned into her, but still didn’t touch her. “Do I make you nervous?”
She snorted. “Please. I’ve known tougher gangs than you people.” She started walking again, but stopped short when she realized he was no longer walking with her. It was what she had asked for but she didn’t expect him to actually listen. She looked back at him. “What?”
“Well,” he stated softly as he slowly moved toward her, his muscles rippling. Godammit! Those rippling muscles were driving her absolutely crazy. “At first, I stopped because I didn’t know why you were calling me a gang member. Then I was just watching your ass move in that skirt. That pretty much kept me rooted to the spot.”
Sara rubbed her nose to hide a smile. “Sorry I insulted you. Do you prefer Motorcycle Club?”
“You do know that we’re not some kind of biker gang, right?”
Of course they were. How could they not be? Groups of grown adults in black leather didn’t move around in packs,
living together and throwing wild raves if they weren’t a gang.
“We just like to ride. We like the freedom.”
“Then you guys are…”
“Business partners. We own and operate a bunch of clubs.”
“Really?” Sara took a sip of her water as Zach dug into the back pocket of his jeans. She would love to dig into the back pocket of his jeans herself.
Jesus, girl! Get a grip.
“Here.” He handed her a business card. It was on high-quality card stock and the letters were embossed, but all it had was his name and a cell phone number.
Sara held the card up. “And?”
“Only reputable business people have business cards.”
Sara loved his sarcasm. It was so ridiculous. “And the Hells Angels have their own Web sites. They sell T-shirts.” Sara started walking again. Her leg began to tighten up, but she desperately hoped she could walk the pain off. She didn’t want the night to end. She was, as much as she hated to admit it, having a great time with Zach.
He was a fun idiot.
Still she had yet to figure out why this guy was spending any time with her. There were women around this place who would drop to their knees at just a wink from him. She watched them watch him. And yet he seemed to be ignoring them completely. Ignoring them for her. She wondered what he was up to. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Dammit, what is he thinking?
I’d give my eye teeth to have this woman sitting on my face right now.
“Pole.”
“What?”
“You’re about to walk into a…” Zach walked face first into a pole between two booths. “…pole.”
Zach took a step back and grabbed his forehead. “Motherfucker!”
“Don’t be a whiner.” Sara turned him so he faced her, pulling his hands down from his face. “Here. Let me see.” Using the tips of her fingers on his expansive shoulders, she lowered him so she could examine his head. “I don’t even think you’ll have a bruise.”