Naiya slid off the bed, careful not to wake Holt. After the movie, they’d watched a crime show, and made love two more times before falling asleep. Holt had woken twice already with nightmares about his time in Viper’s dungeon, but he calmed quickly when she held him, so she’d given up sleeping anywhere except curled tight against his body.
He was in a deep sleep now, his breathing slow and regular. Restless, Naiya walked over to the window, her mind going over what Holt had said. He was having doubts about his plan to go after the Sinners, but he still intended to follow it through. How could she save him from himself? Save the bikers who were his closest friends? She knew how overwhelming the desire for revenge could be. She’d been there, ready to pull the trigger, without any thought about the consequences other than an end to the man who had caused her so much pain.
Holt didn’t have a priest to save him. But he did have Naiya, and the answer was out there. Rider’s Bar wasn’t far away.
She dressed quickly and left a note for Holt, telling him she’d gone for a walk. As an afterthought, she stuffed his cut in her bag before heading downstairs. Although it was nearly midnight, the lavish hotel lobby was busy with people chatting in the huge overstuffed chairs and clinking glasses in the hotel bar.
A cool breeze blew through the pink cotton sweater she’d bought during a rest stop on their way to Conundrum. She pulled it tighter around her as she raced through the streets, dodging pedestrians on their way home from the bars.
By the time she reached Rider’s Bar, her hands were white from the cold. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped into a proper, old school biker bar that smelled strongly of beer with a hint of leather. The dark, cherry-stained wood walls and warm colors gave it a comfortable, yet masculine, appearance. Rough-hewn wooden tables were scattered throughout, and the walls were decorated with pictures of whiskey bottles, motorcycles, Harley symbols, fancy cars and, of course, women.
Conversation ground to a halt when the door closed behind her, and it took Naiya a moment to realize she had walked into a sea of biker cuts with not a civilian in sight.
“What do we have here?” A burly giant of a man wearing a padded “Security” vest cracked a toothy smile. “You get lost on your way to a wedding, sugar?”
Naiya gave him what she hoped was a winning smile, or at least a smile that would convince him to let her into the bar. “I’m looking for someone.”
“Don’t think the kind of someone a girl like you would be looking for would be in a biker bar.” He took a step in front of her, blocking her way. Yeah, he was intimidating, but so were all the Black Jacks she’d encountered. And look what she’d done to Viper, who was the most intimidating biker of them all. Although her penknife had barely scratched him, she’d dared to stab the man many called untouchable.
“I’m here for a drink.” She looked up, met his gaze head on, her hands dropping to her hips. “So unless this is a private bar, I suggest you let me in, or does the owner not want paying customers?”
A grin spread across his face. “Why don’t you ask him?” He gestured to the bar. “His name is Banks. He’s the dude in camouflage who looks like he just came back from a Black Ops mission. Tell him Gunner’s buying your drinks tonight. He can put them on my tab.”
Gunner. Holt said he was the club’s sergeant-at-arms, responsible for internal discipline at the club. And she could see why. His arms were like steel pipes and, despite his smile, he was clearly not a man to be crossed.
“Thanks.” She stepped to the side, and looked back over her shoulder with a genuine smile. “You’re lucky I’m not a big drinker.”
“You’re not a big anything.” Gunner gave her a wink. “But I like my girls small, cute, and curvy.”
She made her way through the tables and sat at the counter. The bar had a good vibe going, busy but not buzzy, with the Moonshine Bandits’, “For the Outlawz” playing through the speakers, and the murmur of conversation punctuated by the soft click of pool balls, the thud of darts, and the occasional bang of a fist on a table.
Banks looked up from the bar and folded his arms. “You legal?”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“Everyone’s twenty-two.” He held out his hand. “You got some ID?”
“My purse was … uh … stolen.”
He snorted a laugh. “When I hear ‘uh … stolen,’ that tells me right there you’re lying. And if you’re lying about that, you’re lying about your age. And if you’re lying about your age, you shouldn’t be here. Already had an underage girl in the bar the other night. Don’t want another one. Got enough trouble with these bikers. Not keen on being shut down for serving minors.”
“I’m not here to drink. I’m looking for someone.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Then do your looking outside. You ladies know better than to bring your business into my bar.”
Naiya stared at him aghast. “I’m not a hooker.”
“Suppose not looking all pink and pretty. But you don’t look like you’re twenty-two either. And if your purse was stolen, you wouldn’t be sitting at my bar.”