I was a petite piece of meat, and I had a feeling it was only a matter of time before one of them decided I was ready for tasting. More than a few men were watching me out of the corner of their eye. They probably didn’t think I noticed, but they were terrible at hiding their lust. It was an odd thing to see, but several of these guys had more than their fair share of bruises and bandages. These were ruffians anyway, so it was to be expected.
Still, I was used to men ogling me. I liked to stay fit, and in my profession I was always running around, which helped me stay in shape. My measurements weren’t anything to gawk at, but they were plenty enough to attract onlookers and the lustful gazes of men.
“Hey there, cutie,” said a bald man who walked up to me later in the evening. He had a gap between his teeth that seemed very unbecoming and a smile that made me think he had more on his mind than just conversation.
“Not interested,” I replied, half tired and half drunk, and not in any mood to flirt.
He continued toward me, and I thrust my hand into my pocket for my mace.
“I wasn’t asking,” he replied suggestively.
A blur streaked by in the corner of my vision, and before I even realized what had happened, the bald man was sprawled out on the floor of the bar.
Standing over his conquest was Axel, looking at the rest of the bikers with a stern gaze. I could feel the intensity in his eyes without even seeing them. Even Duke gave him a nod.
“There’s that right hook. I taught him that you know,” shouted Duke from the back.
I would have laughed at his boast if I weren’t still in shock from the surprise of it all. Axel turned back to me and cracked his knuckles.
“You okay?” he asked simply.
I nodded and gestured toward the seat across from me.
He eased himself into the booth and ordered another drink.
“Looks like you have experience,” I said with a nervous laugh.
“If I didn’t keep them in line, they would run wild,” he said.
“Are you some kind of leader?” I asked.
“I will be,” he replied.
“So Duke is the man in charge then,” I said.
He nodded.
“You’re not one for talking, are you?”
He nodded, and I felt a little frustrated by his stoicism.
“Can we go somewhere you’d be more interested in talking? We’re going to be stepsiblings soon, and it might be a good idea to get to know each other a little better before then,” I said.
He sighed, and by now his drink had arrived, which he took a large gulp from before setting the glass down.
“Look, you’re a pretty city girl. More than a few of the boys here wouldn’t mind a night with you, and that’s a fact. But I don’t think you’ll be here long enough for it to matter.”
I took another sip of my drink in an attempt to buy time while I figured out what he meant.
“So you don’t want to know me because I’ll be leaving soon?” I asked.
“Exactly,” he replied.
I leaned back in my seat and could feel the bar spinning around me. It was probably best for me to stop drinking, but I was past the point of realizing that I should stop.
“You might not want to get to know me, but I want to get to know you. We’re going to be siblings, and that’s at least a little important to me. So, just humor me for a bit, will you?” I pleaded.
He crossed his arms and scrunched up his face in a look of frustration.
“Okay, fine,” he said, sighing. “What do you want to know?”
I leaned forward in the booth again. My curiosity about this enigmatic biker was palpable. He threw punches and smelled like engines. He was a different breed of man, and I was intrigued.
“What do you do for a living?” I asked.
“Mechanic,” he replied straightaway. “Next question.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“This isn’t an interrogation,” I said.
“Next question, please,” he added.
I giggled, but I didn’t think he understood the humor.
“What made you want to be a mechanic?” I asked.
“I know engines, been tuning them since I was five, or at least that’s the earliest I can remember,” he replied.
“When did a mechanic learn how to throw a punch like that?” I asked.
“I’ve been fighting since before I was five,” he said.
I stared at him, doing my best to keep my eyes focused through my drunken haze.
“So you’ve been working on cars and fighting since you were a kid?”
He just nodded at my question. He really wasn’t one for many words, and I had no idea how to coax a conversation out of him.
“All right, I gotta get out of here. I can’t do this tonight. Maybe you’ll be more talkative some other—”
“What do you do?” he asked, cutting me off.
He startled me for a second, and for some reason I couldn’t think of the obvious response.
“I’m a nurse,” I finally managed to say.
“Why?”
“I like to help people,” I said.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
I wanted to say that I did, but I really didn’t know. It was becoming more of a chore to wake up every day and go to work. The wide-eyed look I had once had was diminishing every year that I continued my work.
“I do,” I sighed.
“It doesn’t sound like it,” he said coldly.
“Whatever I might feel about the work now, it’s what I chose to do.”
“Why don’t you find something else that you want to do?” he asked.
“Because all my training is in medicine; what else could I do?”