seemed a bit upset. He wondered who she was before turning away.
Bikers from Satan’s Attitude and Nefarious filled the office. Darko was the president of Nefarious MC, central and southern chapters and owned Dirty Deeds go-go bar. He was a very good businessman and had made Nefarious a strong presence in the areas they claimed. Both clubs had each other’s backs but Whiskey and Zero wondered how strong their tie really was to Satan’s Attitude. If given the chance, they’d drop some hints tonight.
They shot the shit as girls came and brought drinks. Finally, Zero was ready to drop his first bomb. He lit a cigarette and looked around at the bikers around him. He nodded slowly at Whiskey who raised an eyebrow.
Zero stood up and everyone looked at him expectantly. “We got those Filthy Fiends down in Maryland and here in Jersey, and there’s a rumor that they’d like to sister-up to us.” Zero looked at the bikers from Nefarious who were muttering angrily.
Darko stayed silent and wondered what the fuck was up. He wasn’t sure he quite believed Zero until Whiskey started to talk. “We’re hearing Tramp is weak now over some chick, and it’s a matter of time before the Filthy Fiends cause some major issues. Rebel wants to know what the fuck is up before he comes here.” He looked straight at Darko, waiting for him to answer.
“That’s something you ought to ask Tramp directly, not me. That chick had his son. I knew Jules and I liked her. I feel bad she disappeared while working for me.” Darko wasn’t giving too much information out.
“Is this Jules dead?” asked Whiskey. “Straight up, Darko, what’s your gut feeling?”
Darko didn’t want to think about Jules being dead, but from what little they knew, it was fairly certain she was. “From what we know, which is little, yeah, she probably is dead. Tramp wants Honey, Jules’ sister, and his son found. Pigs have been no help with finding any of ‘em. Tramp hates the Filthy Fiends, he ain’t weak.”
Whiskey had heard enough and stood up. “Let’s get outta this room, watch the dancers, and party.”
Satan’s Attitude bikers were glad to leave and they quickly exited with the Nefarious bikers. As Whiskey walked into the bar area, he saw the black-haired woman drinking with Dusty, so he walked right up to them.
Whiskey reached out and ruffled Dusty’s hair. “Long time no see, Dusty. Your mom and Rebel are coming up on Friday.” His voice was smooth with a slight southern accent to it.
Dusty pulled back and tried to keep her face devoid of emotion as she answered, “Didn’t expect to see them, Whiskey. How’s my mother?”
“The same old Violet Rose. Nothing changes with your mother. Now who is this?” He softly touched the mysterious woman’s black hair.
“Elena, meet Whiskey.” Dusty’s hands fluttered in the air.
Whiskey sat down next to Elena and the bartender came right over to him with an odd-shaped glass filled halfway with whiskey and a glass of water. Elena noticed the glass was personalized with the name Whiskey and SA MC etched on it.
He noticed her interest in the glass and offered it to her for closer inspection, holding it near to her face with his hand.
“I like fine whiskey drunk in a proper glass. I bring my own wherever I go.” He sounded very serious.
Elena looked into eyes that were almost the same amber color as her own. “I see. It … is a nice glass.” She really wasn’t sure what to say to this man who stared intently at her.
“Got an ol’ man, Elena?” Whiskey asked bluntly.
Elena paused, taken by surprise. “No, I don’t any longer.”
The smile that appeared on Whiskey’s face made him no longer look like a mean, hard biker. He had very white teeth and Elena noticed right away that he smelled great—not like cigarette smoke, but like a good, clean scent of wind and leather.
He touched her thigh and stroked it, her skin tingling as his fingers trailed over her
Jessica Conant-Park, Susan Conant