Page 31 of 12 Months of Mayhem

I wait for them, and when they are next to me, I look at Juniper. “Lightweight.”

Laughing, she nods. “Oh, yeah, a couple of beers, and I’m anyone’s.” Gamble growls, and she shakes her head. “Not literally. I belong to you.”

Proving the point, Juniper kisses Gamble hard on the lips, and he drapes an arm around her waist.

“You got that right, babe.”

The man adores her, and I’ve often wondered how she caught him. Gamble used to move from one woman to the next, but the day he found her, he became pussy-whipped.

The music stirs my soul, igniting a desire to let loose. With Gamble and Juniper following closely behind, I make my way closer to the stage. We push forward together, eager to immerse ourselves in the rhythm of the rally.

The band belts out, “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll,” and my heart races as we get closer to the stage. I realize it’s my hellcat up there singing her heart out.

“Fuck me,” I mutter, a wide grin spreading across my face as I take in the sight of her.

“You know her?” Gamble asks, raising an eyebrow.

With a frown, I respond, “Sort of?”

The truth is, I know her well enough to feel a mix of excitement and intrigue, but I’m not about to dive into the details with Gamble just yet. All I know is that watching her own the stage only deepens my interest.

She looks like an eighties rock goddess, exuding fierce energy with her teased-up hair, tight leather pants, and more makeup than I’ve ever seen her wear. The lights catch the shimmer of her eyeliner, accentuating those captivating green eyes. With the mic in her hand, she holds it out to the audience, inviting us to join in.

As the chorus kicks in, we all sing back to her, our voices melding into a powerful wave that reverberates through the crowd. I can’t help but feel a surge of adrenaline—the connection between her and the audience is electric. It’s impossible not to be drawn to her, and for a moment, it feels like the world around us fades away, leaving only the music and the shared excitement.

She looks down at me and winks, a playful spark in her eyes. My body reacts instinctively, hardening at the sight of her confidence. As the song fades into “Pour Some Sugar on Me,” the energy in the crowd surges, and we erupt into cheers.

Her grin widens, clearly feeding off the electrifying atmosphere and our enthusiastic response. It’s like she knows exactly what she’s doing, commanding the stage and the audience with effortless charm.

After an hour of commanding the stage, the music finally fades as another band prepares to take over.

My hellcat brings the mic to her lips, her voice echoing through the crowd, “Thank you, Sturgis, you’ve been great. We are Steel Outlaws, and we’ll catch you tomorrow!”

She hands the mic to the next singer and, with a glance down at me, bursts into laughter. Before I can react, she falls back off the stage, straight into my arms.

“Well, Whiskey Mick…” she says with a sly grin, “… fancy meeting you here.”

I put her on her feet, and her arms entwine around my neck.

“You stink,” I say as I put my arms around her and grab her ass.

Laughing, she nods and sniffs under her arm. “You try shaking your ass on stage and singing for an hour… you’d smell bad too.”

“Hey!” a voice sounds from above, and we look up to see who it is. “We’re going to grab a beer and some food. You in?”

She smiles at me. “You in?”

“I could eat.”

“We’re in,” she yells back at the guy. “Meet you at the trailer?”

“Sure.” He nods at me, winks at her, then wanders off to the back of the stage.

“Come on, Whiskey, it’s time to meet the band.”

“Is that like meeting the parents?”

She laughs. “Worse. They’re a fickle bunch.”

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