Page 20 of StoryTeller's Tale

The music turns up, the other club girls appear, and in Soulz fashion, we begin to party. Word has obviously gotten out and women turn up from the nearby town. My usual self would be leaning back against the bar, checking them out, choosing one, then taking her to my room where we’d fuck. Then, kick her out, and depending on how I felt, maybe target another.

I don’t do ties. I don’t want relationships, but like every red-blooded man, I need to get my rocks off.

Tonight though, I try to take part. It’s not that the scantily clad, heavily made-up women are any different, there’s something wrong with me. My dick doesn’t so much as twitch. For some reason, my brain’s tied up imagining a girl I’ve never met, being forced to endure what women should enjoy. The thought of her being raped has my blood running cold.

Fuck it.I grow angry at myself. What the hell do I know about her? That she went to a signing entitled Motorcycles, Mobsters and Mayhem suggests her reading matter is hard core. Maybe she jumped at the chance to move on from fiction and experience bikers in real life. She might have gone with them voluntarily. She might even be a sweet butt right now, happily spreading her legs for any Dominator who requests it.

There’s nothing to stop me from grabbing one of the girls and using my cock for what nature intended. But try as I might, not one of them makes it stir, even when a pretty, buxom, twenty-something comes over and all but pushes her cleavage into my face.

I can’t find fucking pleasure while I don’t know what’s happening to Sheri. Which is so fucked up, I don’t even have a name for it.

It’s not just the women. My brothers seem intent on pulling me out of my funk, but I can’t be bothered to join in with a game of poker, nor try my hand at the pool table. Fed up with my dismissive snarls, my brothers gravitate to those wanting to have a good time. It leaves me sitting alone, nursing my fifth beer of the evening.

Slugger breaks free from the entourage surrounding him and makes a beeline for me. With a chin lift, he joins me at my table. “So, what’s going on with you, ST?”

My shoulders rise to my ears, then drop slowly. “Same old, same old,” I tell him.

“Nah.” His sharp eyes stare into me. “You’re not your normal self, Bro. Been here a few hours and you’ve not been regaling me with any stories.”

“Maybe I just haven’t got any worth telling.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re sitting here on your own. Not like you, ST. You’re normally the heart and soul of the party.”

Suddenly, I growl. “You want to hear a fucking story? Try this one on for size.”

Without meaning to, I start spilling, in my normal expressive fashion, how I came to find a book discarded by a woman’s kidnappers. Said kidnappers appear to be the fucking Dominators. When I finish my sorry tale, I’m surprised when he bursts out laughing.

Disgusted, I stand with the intention of walking away, but his hand snakes out and stops me.

“No disrespect, ST, but you can’t blame me. You’re caught up with a bitch you’ve never met, let alone spoken to. Sit your ass down and let’s talk this through.”

Slugger could easily end me, or at least my association with the Wretched Soulz MC. He’s not a man you cross lightly. Annoyed, partly with myself, because if it were anyone else, I too would be laughing, I plop down my ass. When Slugger signals for more beers, Ryder comes running.

“Come on, ST. You’ve gotta agree it’s funny as fuck.” He leans back into his seat and stretches out his legs. “You don’t know this bitch from Adam but you’re tied up in knots about her.” Suddenly he leans forward, pointing an accusing finger at me. “I know you. I know your fuckin’ history. You’re not a man to go soft on a bitch.”

I’m not. I can’t understand it myself. After my one and only disastrous attempt at a relationship, I wasn’t going to put myself into the position of getting involved again. Fuck no.

Grimacing, I try the impossible, to explain my reaction. “At first, who the book belonged to was a mystery I wanted to solve. Then, when I knew she was in the hands of the Dominators…”

“Ah,” he states, his eyes blazing as if he’s having a light bulb moment. “It’s because it’sthem, not because it’sher.”

Feeling relieved as he must have gotten the gist of the strange emotions I’m feeling, I agree. “Kind of feels like they’ve got one over on us. All I wanted to do was find the bitch and return her book to her. And because of them, I can’t.”

“Who fucking says?”

Startling, I look at him sharply. “We can’t start a war. Not for one anonymous woman.”

His eyes narrow, then he looks quickly away and zooms in on a different target. Suddenly, his hand is waving in the air, beckoning someone over. I suppress a grin, seeing by the stiffness in Chaz’s gait that he doesn’t much appreciate the way he’s been summoned.

When he reaches us, my prez stands by the table, arms folded, an eyebrow raised, waiting for an explanation.

“ST’s got a problem. Says you’re cockblocking him.”

The beer splutters out of my mouth, and I slam my bottle down, using both hands to raise in supplication. “Chaz, I didn’t—”

“You’ve been running your mouth?” Prez’s arms unfold as he rises on tiptoe before placing his heels back down. I can read the signs. He’s angling for a fight. And probably one where he’ll be backed up by the enforcer and sergeant-at-arms if I don’t find a way to defuse this.

But when my lips part for my defence to come out, Slugger stirs the shit again. He leans back on his chair, and there’s a gleam in his eyes. “Heard you’re too chicken to take on the Dominators.”

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