“Like I said, in the dark, don’t matter what you look like.”
“You’re a real peach, Torch.”
A shift in the wall of bikers farther down the bar had her escaping Torch’s top-notch company and shoving herself into the gap of bodies so she could make contact with someone who worked there.
She was ignored by the two guys behind the bar for about ten minutes. They served everyone wearing a damn cut, purposely skipping over her.
Assholes.
After she blew out a frustrated breath, “Who you belong to?” came from the old guy sitting on a stool to her right.
His cut appeared vintage and well-worn, his silver hair trimmed short but his gray beard long.
Bikers sure liked their facial hair. Either that or they hated shaving.
“Who doyoubelong to?” she countered.
The older biker chuckled. At least he had more teeth than Torch. “My ol’ lady.”
“Well, she’s a lucky lady.”
The man huffed, “Not sure she’d agree with you. What’s your name?”
“Rose. Yours?”
He pointed a gnarled finger to his name patch. “Midas.”
“Nice to meet you, Midas. What club do you ride with?”
“Ace’s Wild.”
She tipped her head to the side as she considered him. “Never heard of them. Where are they out of?”
“Virginia,” he answered with pride.
Since she adopted Virginia as her home state, she understood that pride. “You’re pretty far from home, aren’t you?”
“Here for some business.”
Cami’s eyebrows rose. “What kind of business?”
He grinned. “The kind where you mind your own.”
She returned his grin with a smile. He wasn’t being a dick but trying to be funny.
“You’d have better luck gettin’ one of the bartenders to serve you if you were wearin’ your man’s cut,” Midas informed her.
“My man doesn’t have one. I mean, he has one but not for an MC.”
The biker’s brow dropped low. “So, he rides but don’t belong to any brotherhood?”
Shit.Did she fuck up? She had to simply own it. “You got it.”
“Why?”
“You’d have to ask him.”
“What are you doin’ in a biker bar like this alone?”