Where Souls Spoil (Bayonet Scars Series, Volume I) (Bayonet Scars #1-4.5)

“You seen Duke?” I ask, realizing a moment later that I’m showing my cards way too soon. I never ask for anyone. Normally, I show up just to hang out and sometimes end up staying over in one of the guy’s rooms, but it’s never planned out, and I never have a specific companion in mind. This is new not just for me, but everybody who’s witnessing it, as is obvious by the looks on their faces.

“Duke, huh?” Bear asks, quirking an eyebrow up at me. I shrug my shoulders in response. I may be stating my intentions, but I’m not about to give these guys ammunition to fuel their fire. They’re all a bunch of gossipy assholes. Bear clears his throat and looks me over—like every time he sees me. It’s useless. I’ve always told him I’m not going there. For one, he’s got a wife, and for two, she’s absolutely insane. “Thought after that fight today, he’d be done with you. He’s inside,” Bear says.

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Chief says. His eyes dart to the door. “I think he headed out already.”

“You been smoking too much bud, Dude,” Bear says, shooting Chief a look. “He’s inside.”

Chief’s eyes narrow at Bear’s then soften when they fall on me. I know those looks all too well. Bear’s mischievous smile gives him away, and Chief’s worried glances solidify my assumption. Duke’s inside with someone else. A knot twists in my gut, and I consider my options. I could go home and spare myself the irrational anger that’s going to flare at the sight of him touching some other chick, but maybe I need this. Maybe I need to see him doing his thing so I can stop pretending he’s my knight on shining chrome.

“Thanks, guys,” I say absently make my way inside the clubhouse. Smoke wafts up as I enter, filling my lungs and tickling at my nose. There’s nothing about the clubhouse after dark that is inviting unless you’re one of us. It’s smoky, dirty, and a hot spot for unparalleled debauchery. The only windows are wide and short and they line the wall at the ceiling, offering no light after the sun sets. Long rows of overhead fluorescent lights form an orderly design on the ceiling, but that’s where any semblance of order stops. From the front door all the way to the chapel and out the back door, this place is a mad house.

I find myself simultaneously loving and loathing this place as I search the room for Duke. In the corner, drinking a beer with some chick by his side is Diesel. He’s nodding his head as she talks in his ear, but his eyes are someplace off across the room. Jim is notably absent from the crowd. It used to be weird not seeing him here when all of his men were, but ever since the club got back from their trip to New York, it’s becoming more routine for him to be absent.

“I heard you’re looking for somebody,” a deep voice says from behind me. The words are laced with an arrogance that can only belong to Ryan Stone, Forsaken’s Road Captain. Like Duke, Ryan’s a few years older than me, and is—by all accounts—Duke’s best friend.

“Yeah,” I say, deciding there’s no point in trying to cover it up. “You seen Duke?”

Turning to face Ryan, I see that he’s twisted his face up in a look of disapproval. Ryan Stone is a handsome guy. He’s well built, both by design and genetics, and he’s got the attitude to match his good looks. With pitch black hair that’s shorter on the sides and longer on top and a well-defined jawline, Ryan’s got everything a girl could want, including these gray eyes that used to make me blush when they fell on me. But that was a long time ago. That was back before any of us could drive a car much less ride a motorcycle, and that was back before he and Duke turned into the men they are now. Unfortunately for Ryan, he’s also a Grade-A dickhead with a mean streak a mile wide. I pity the bitch who gets saddled with his ass.

“Last I see him he had a face full of pussy,” he says thoughtfully. My stomach feels like it drops ten floors and slams into the concrete below. He leans his face in and eyes me suspiciously. “You gettin’ a thing for our boy?”

“No,” I lie. It comes out much too quick to sound truthful. The callous smile that spreads across his face tells me he doesn’t buy it.

“Tell ya what, I’ll bend you over the bar and fuck you raw and hard for everyone to see. Make sure you scream real loud, too—that way he’ll be sure to hear you.”