“Okay,” Jess said, dismounting the bike. Without looking at him, she handed him her helmet. As she took in their surroundings, Ike couldn’t help but run his gaze over her. Tall black boots. Tight black jeans. A slinky, see-through red shirt that had a wide neck prone to sliding off one shoulder or the other, and a tight black tank revealing a lot of cleavage underneath.
The dark purple and red of the hickey was visible depending on how she moved her hair.
God, he felt like such a shit.
Clearly, he wasn’t any damn hero. That much was for sure. Not like her father. Ike’s jaw was clenched as he unloaded their bags. If her old man had thought some partying, low-level drug dealers were the wrong kind of people for Jess to run with—and they were, no doubt—Detective Jakes would’ve hated Ike on sight. Ike Young—who came into this world as Isaac Yeager, the son of a violent criminal who had no problem being in bed with the worst of the Mexican cartels. Ike’s actions—and his inaction—had caused the death of his girlfriend and unborn child. After that, grief and fear had turned Ike into a drifter until he met Dare Kenyon, who fed him and took him in and gave him a whole new family—and the papers for a new identity, too. And now Ike handled bets, debts, and enforcement of collection when necessary.
Ike chuffed out a humorless laugh. What a fucking prize.
Jess eyeballed him for a long moment. “What’s funny?”
“Not a damn thing,” he said, lifting their bags to his shoulder. “Look, Jess. I wanted to say—”
“Jess! Ike!” Bunny chose that moment to rush out the door and down the steps. She drew Jess into her arms. “Come in, come in. I hope you’re hungry. Ike told me he was bringing you up here tonight, and I love any excuse to cook a big meal.”
“I appreciate that,” Jess said, humor in her voice.
“Bunny, you know you have volunteers to eat your cooking pretty much any time you’re in the mood to do it,” Ike said. Looked like he’d have to find another time for that apology.
The older lady laughed. “I know it. Y’all are like wolves.”
Ike and Jess followed Bunny through the front entrance hall that was now a lounge to the mess hall off the right side. The décor throughout was mountain kitsch meets biker memorabilia, which pretty much meant mounted deer heads hung next to vintage metal road signs and neon beer lights. American and POW/MIA flags fluttered from the thick, exposed wooden beams overhead. Above the tall, stacked-stone fireplace—one of many that existed throughout the joint—hung a big carved wooden plaque of the Ravens’ logo inked on Ike’s back.
“Everybody,” Bunny said to the group of people already seated around the big table, “this is Ike’s friend Jessica.” Then Bunny went around the table. “Jess, you remember Doc and Rodeo.” Jess waved hello to the men she’d met at the lake. “And then there’s Scooter, Blake, Jeb, and Bear,” Bunny said, pointing to each of the men in turn. Blake and Jeb were probies, prospective members still proving their chops, commitment, and loyalty to the club. Scooter was the Ravens’ newest member, his unfortunate nickname coming from the fact that he actually owned a fucking scooter. Bear was another Old Timer, though he could still ride.
“Nice to meet you all,” Jess said.
“And these two ladies are Haven and Cora. They’re visiting for a while,” Bunny said, pointing to two pretty blonde-haired women sitting together at the near end of the long table. Ike gave them a nod as Jess said hello. He’d met the two cousins a little over a week ago when Nick and his SF teammates had rescued them from a Baltimore street gang with a side business in human trafficking.
The Ravens had invited the women to hang there where it was safe while they figured out what they wanted to do or where they wanted to go. It was one of the things the club did, part of its mission. All thanks to Dare.
“Well, all right, then,” Doc said, looking down the table from his seat at the head. “Can we eat now or are we gonna torture Jess by seeing if she remembers everyone’s names?”
Chuckles filled the room.
“No torture,” Bunny said. “Just lots and lots of food.”
Words of approval were quickly followed by praise for the feast of pork barbecue, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, coleslaw, and cornbread that got passed around. Normally, Ike would’ve been thrilled to sit among his brothers and dig in to an excellent meal, but when Jess chose the seat between Bunny and Cora, that steel bar of guilt he’d been carrying hit him upside the head all over again.
But what could he do? He’d made his cold and empty bed, and now he had to fucking lie in it.