“That’s what stockrooms are for,” Arianne said. “So wipe that frown off your face and let us have our little catch-up, or this bartender is going to walk and take your best waitress with her.”
“Ever since you became Jagger’s old lady, you got a serious attitude problem,” Banks grumbled as he hoisted a box on his shoulder. “Before you hooked up with him, you were sweet, nice, easy to get along with. Now you’re telling me how it is, wearing your damn cut while you’re working the bar, throwing me out of my stockroom … I liked you better when you were just Viper’s runaway daughter. Before, you had more respect.”
Dawn laughed and kissed his cheek. Ex-law-enforcement, with one hell of a ripped body and the chiseled good looks to match, Banks was a close friend, and more often than not she found herself eating pizza and watching westerns at his apartment when she had a rare evening off. Arianne thought they were a good match, but Banks was too straitlaced for Dawn. She’d always had a wild side. And if not for the streak of rebel in her, she’d never have been able to run away from home the night she turned fourteen.
“It’s not just Arianne; I don’t respect you, either,” Dawn teased. “Like you. But no respect.”
“Fired.” He pushed open the swinging door leading to the bar. “Both of you. Fired.”
“Is that the first time we’re fired tonight?” Arianne leaned against the wall, arms folded over the Sinner’s Tribe cut Jagger insisted she wear when she worked the bar. The Sinner patch alone would have been enough to save her from roaming hands, but the PROPERTY OF JAGGER rocker above it kept all but the most ignorant away.
Dawn tied her apron around her waist. “Yep. But it won’t be the last.”
Banks wasn’t given to overt affection. His threats to fire them were the closest he got to expressing friendship. That and saving Arianne from her psychotic brother, and then taking a beating from Jagger for his trouble.
Still, he was a good manager and the bar had always done well. Dawn made twice as much money at Banks Bar as she did waitressing at Table Tops restaurant in the mornings, and arranging flowers at Cindy’s Florals in the afternoons. One day, though, when she got her girls back and returned to college, she’d get that Accounting Technology Certificate she’d always dreamed about, a good, stable, high-paying job, and maybe even study for her CPA. Just like her dad.
At least that had been the dream a year ago.
Shortly after meeting Cade, she’d taken the bold step of filing for a divorce, and then she’d lost the girls. After that, determined to regain custody, she had no time for men, not the engaging new Conundrum deputy sheriff, Doug Benson, and especially not bikers, and most particularly not bikers who thought they were God’s gift to women.
“So … finish telling me about Cade.” Arianne gave Dawn a nudge after the door closed behind Banks. Arianne knew about Dawn’s past, although not the reason Dawn had run away from home, or what happened to her on the streets before Jimmy found her—some doors were better left closed. “You gonna see him again?”
“No.” Dawn checked the small mirror near the coat hooks and fluffed her curls. The bigger the hair the better the tips. “I broke it off last year after those two hot nights for a reason. And that reason was right in my face this afternoon. Present company excluded, of course, outlaw bikers are bad news.”
“You can’t judge all outlaw bikers solely on what you experienced with Jimmy and the Brethren. The Sinners care about their women, protect them.” She gave Dawn a wry smile. “Some women even get respect.”
“They have bylaws and rules, but they don’t follow the law. And they’re misogynistic to the core.”
“True.” Arianne gave her a wink. “But you just have to learn how to work the system.”
“I’m not you,” Dawn said. “I’m not badass to the bone and make all men except Jagger quake in their biker boots when I walk past. I’ve been betrayed in one way or another by every man I trusted, but I survived Jimmy and fought my way free. Now I’m fighting for my girls. I don’t have time for men, and I’m not about to open myself up again, especially to a man like Cade.”
“What kind of man do you think he is?”
“The dangerous kind,” Dawn said. “The kind of man a woman dreams about, but never wants to meet because the reality of him overwhelms any fantasy. Powerful. Dominant. A biker. The kind of man I promised myself I would never fall for again.”
And a womanizer, or so she’d heard after their two nights together. Charming, handsome, and seductive, but totally unfaithful, unable to commit, and unrepentant for his “crimes.” The last time she’d been to a Sinner party, she’d heard rumors that Cade never slept with the same woman twice. She’d been tempted to share the fact that she had, in fact, slept with Cade twice, but she decided instead to slip out of the party and out of his life.