Page 8 of Duke

Duke.

Duke Masters.

I’m tempted to flirt with him, maybe go out on a date or two, but he’s connected to the MC, and I have plans to get away from what’s left of the MC and start a new life in Santa Monica. It’s so different from the rain and fog of Springdale. With the money I could get from this place—I’d have a real chance to start over as someone other than Colin Flynn’s daughter.

Even though the chapter my father ran has basically broken up; the loyalty remains. It’s unspoken that you are in for life either by birth or by choice and nothing can break that code but death. And I’m only twenty-three with no plans of dying anytime soon. For me, the only escape I can get is to live somewhere else, hopefully leaving the men that watch over me behind. They’ve always been there in the shadows—scaring boys away from asking me to out. I don’t even have many girlfriends since mothers never wanted their precious princesses to play with the girl whose father was a tatted-bad-ass biker king. When Pops was in his prime—sometimes, he even terrified me.

I open the cooler grabbing the cold, bottle-necked beers, freezing when I catch Duke staring at my ass. The skin’s drawn tight over his cheekbones, his nostrils flare and his lips press into a firm line, as he slams his empty shot glass down.

Sometimes I swear the man looks at me as if he owns me. I feel a blush heat my cheeks as his eyes shift down to my breasts—which are barely covered by my top. My nipples harden, pointing straight at him. His nostrils flare and then his eyes meet mine with a fucking promise so terrifying, I turn away before he can see how much it excites me. My pulse is racing. He is so fuckin’ gorgeous, like a dark devil and his eyes promise so much sin. Being exposed never bothered me before but when his eyes sweep over me, it feels like a possession.

I like to give the men who come in here all the eye candy they want since everyone knows—I’m off-limits. Thursday through Saturday, I barely cover myself. Tonight, my racerback tank dips in the front showing a fair amount of cleavage, stretching across my tight tits.And tits—mean tips.

No one gives me a hard time, and if I ever need help with a drunk who gets too handsy I have Federico, my beefcake bouncer, take care of them. Having him on the payroll is well worth the hit to profits every month.

I feel hot eyes searing my back as I turn and pour the shots. I say his name in my mind again,Duke Masters.

His name alone—makes my thighs quiver.

I was a toddler when he left and don’t remember him at all. But my father’s regulars remember. They said that Dad was best friends with his father, during the early years of my childhood. They both started the MC together. I don’t know why he’s suddenly been coming around—I’m afraid to ask. I’m dead set on my plan to make it in LA and live a different life. If it’s club business, I want no part of it.

The other chapters are not only still active but thriving. Now and then men wearing the Creed patch from out of state come in the bar when they are on a run up north to Canada. The big, bearded men full of tats scare the shit out of the suits when they tear ass into the lot one by one on their chrome machines.

It’s bad for business.

The two worlds don’t mix.

But thankfully the men respected my wish only to stop by at night. At night, just about anything goes in here. There are plenty of dark corners and back halls with doors that open to the lot out back that borders the woods and it’s not unusual for me to see an “after party” going on after closing when I walk to my car.

Some things you just can’t change. And frankly, I wouldn’t want to. Since Stan’s place opened, it’s been a place you can let yourself go, get wild and feel free without judgment. Lately, as I’ve been working, my eyes find those very dark corners, and I allow myself to imagine he hauls me over to one.

Blushing again, I meet his eyes promising me the world, before sighing and looking quickly away. I’m focused on this place, Pops, and establishing a new life once I get my degree. Not a beast of a man with the devil’s smile and bulging biceps full of ink.

Besides, I have a date next week with Spence. He’s in one of my business classes at Bradbury and the type of clean-cut, all-American college guy—I should be thinking about.

But he’s only seen the straight side of me; I can never let him see mybadside. Because his Santa Barbara-stick-up-their-butt family would never let him run with a wild-child like me.

One who grew up in a motorcycle club spending my days here playing darts and learning cards while women in bikinis and daisy dukes got fucked and high in the dark corners of this very room. But from their breathy moans, I could tell they all enjoyed it. The MC was my babysitter and the education I learned from the men in it—rivals Bradbury for sure.

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