Page 50 of To the Grave

“Think it’s good enough?” Wolf asked. “Maybe we should have gone with masks too."

“I’m not afraid of those assholes,” Jace muttered.

“Easy for you to say, you’re the only one of us in a mask,” Wolf said.

“It’s all good,” Otis said. “They’ll be too drunk to pay attention, especially if we stay under the radar.”

I gaped at them. “Have you looked in a mirror recently?”

They looked at each other, then at me. “What?” they said in unison.

I rolled my eyes. The only thing more annoying than three stupidly hot guys was three stupidly hot guys who didn’t know they were stupidly hot. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

Chapter 36

Daisy

The Strike had once been a farmhouse off old Route 52, one of the roads bikers frequented on long rides through the mountains. The party was in full swing by the time we pulled up to the rambling structure, its faded brown siding softened by the moonless night. Bikes were lined up three deep out front, costumed bikers spilling out of the place, onto the old porch and down into the gravel parking area at the front of the building.

Music blared from inside, some kind of old-school heavy metal that made me feel like my ears were bleeding, mingling with laughter and the roar of a hundred conversations happening all at once.

“Wow, it’s packed,” I said as Wolf pulled Benji to a stop in the parking area.

More than one person in the crowd turned to look as we pulled up. Benji’s bright green paint stood out among the bikes and pickup trucks in the lot, to say nothing of its price tag.

“Told you,” I said.

“We’ll be fine once we get inside,” Otis said.

“If you say so,” I grumbled, getting out of the front seat.

The attention didn’t diminish as we made our way inside. One guy in the crowd recognized Wolf and raised a hand in greeting, but everyone else either didn’t know us or was disavowing us at the Strike.

Great.

It probably didn’t help that Jace looked like an absolute beast (no pun intended) in the leather mask. He’d started to bulk up again, eating like a machine and working out in the mini-gym he’d set up in the ballroom since he couldn’t go anywhere.

Still, he was less out of place than the rest of us. Among the sea of pirates, biker zombies, and vikings, there wasn’t a single prisoner or slutty cop.

So much for flying under the radar.

The music reached a deafening pitch as we crossed the old porch and stepped over the threshold into the bar. It was almost wall-to-wall bodies and I had no idea how everyone managed conversation over the electric guitar blaring from the speakers mounted near the ceiling.

A long bar dominated one end of the big main room, and people flowed in and out of the smaller rooms on either side.

“I’ll get drinks.” Wolf shouted the words but I still barely heard him over the music, so I just nodded.

I moved deeper into the room with Jace and Otis. It was weird looking over and seeing Jace in his leather mask.

Weird and sexy. Which made it even weirder.

I was just about at the end of my self-imposed celibacy rope and his leather mask wasn’t helping, to say nothing of his leather pants and muscled chest. I didn’t even want to think about how screwed up I had to be to want to fuck the guy who’d put me through so much misery, let alone while wearing a getup that was essentially the costume poster child for violence and domination.

The crowd lost interest in us as we faded into the woodwork of the drunk, costumed crowd. Apparently they didn’t see us as much of a threat, maybe because Jace’s pants were so tight he couldn’t have fit a weapon in there. Otis and Wolf didn’t have pockets in their orange jumpsuits, and unless I was hiding something in my not-so-secret booby place, I wasn’t packing either.

I bobbed to the music while Jace and Otis scanned the crowd and a few minutes later Wolf returned holding four beers. He handed one to each of us, then tipped his head to one of the smaller rooms.

We moved deeper into the bar just as the electric guitar riff to “Welcome to the Jungle” started.

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