Page 9 of All's Fair in Love & Wrath

“That’s right. Make sure you remind Mad a few times, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that. Now get off me, you stink,” I say as I shrug out of his hold.

“Funny. You and I both know that’s a bold-faced lie.” I roll my eyes, knowing he’s right, I just don’t want to admit it. “Now, be safe.” Lincoln’s parting words linger as he leaves me at the sleek bar my dad built himself inside the clubhouse. I’ve never seen it close up, but he showed me photos, and I knew it was beautiful. But nothing could prepare me for seeing it in person. My dad’s always been an extremely talented woodworker, but he outdid himself on this one.

A guy who can’t be much older than I am stops in front of me from the other side of the bar. He’s got a head full of blond hair and deep-set blue eyes. The leather cut he wears says PROSPECT, so I know he’ll be focused on working tonight and won’t be an option to chat with.

“What can I getchya?”

“Oh. Uhm, a beer? I guess?”

“Oh, you don’t want that, the beer here tastes like piss. She’ll have a ruby red,” a deep voice adds from over my shoulder. I turn slightly to face him. He’s much older, with dark hair shaved close to his scalp, deep brown eyes, and the start of slight wrinkles at the corners. He’s definitely closerto my dad’s age than mine. I wouldn’t say he’s good-looking, but I suppose for his age, it works for him. My eyes flash from the rough, dark hair on his face to his leather cut, reading his road name in my head. Cain. Interesting choice. Not that the wearer is given one. Road names are bestowed on each member as they’re voted in, usually from a club president or someone important in their life.

“Pretty presumptuous of you to assume I like my drinks sweet. Maybe I wanted the beer.”

“Honey, nobody wants the beer here, so you ain’t foolin’ me.”

I laugh at that; he’s probably right. The last beer I had made me want to immediately spit it right back out. But he’s dead wrong about the fruity little cocktail he ordered me. I’ve been sipping on Aspen Ridge whiskey with my dad since I turned fifteen. It was the one thing he was cool about. Wanted to make sure his only daughter knew how to shoot whiskey.

“What’s your name?” he asks, taking a seat on the only free barstool. I stand sandwiched between him as he faces me, legs spread wide, and another member to my other side, a patch bunny practically dry humping his leg.

I tuck some hair behind my ear. “Sienna.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” Okay, so he’s definitely flirting now, not just being nice. A weird sensation washes over me. It’s not flattery, it’s more . . . ominous?

“Yours?” I ask in return, trying to be polite while I wait for the drink I definitely didn’t want to arrive.

“Cain.”

“That’s your road name. What’s yournamename?”

“Everyone calls me Cain.”Okay then.“You don’t look like you’ve been here before.”

“Is it written on my forehead in big neon letters?”

He laughs, and it doesn’t sound terrible. “It’s the eyes. Always gives someone away.”

“Oh, yeah? And what are mine saying?”

“That you’re a little too excited to be here, which means you have expectations, something you wouldn’t have if you’ve been here before.”

Well, he’s got me there. “Yeah? What else?” I ask, leaning into playing his dumb little game. My drink is set down between us, and Cain pulls his hand free from his pocket, grabbing my drink off the bar top and handing it to me. I take it, our fingers brushing in the exchange.

“They’re saying you’re looking for a good time.” It takes all I have not to roll my eyes.Lame. Of course I’m looking for a good time, I’m at a motorcycle clubhouse party. Why else would I be here? To play a game of checkers?

Not wanting to piss him off when he’s being nice to me, I hum around the rim of my drink, taking a heavy pull of the pink, foamy liquid. It’s overly sweet and tangy, and I instantly hate it. But I know whatever is in it will take the edge off.

“You here with anyone, Sienna?”

Yeah, definitely don’t want to be honest about that question. The moment I mention my dad or my brother, word will spread. Not that some of these guys don’t already know who I am, especially considering I look just like my mom. But this one doesn’t, and I know guys from other clubs are here that won’t know either. The clubhouse is packed with a sea of leather right now. I told the guys I wasn’t looking for a hookup tonight, and I wasn’t lying, but some attention would be pretty fucking awesome.

The music blasts around us as Cain and I continue to make small talk. I polish off my drink in no time, warmth spreading through my veins and heating my cheeks. A strange feeling settles in my stomach that has never been there before, and Isway just slightly on my feet. I look around for Maddox, Lincoln, or Gage, but faces start to blur against the sea of leather and sequins.

Strong fingers dig into my hip enough to feel a bite of pain, and I’m pulled back quickly onto a lap, the scent of motor oil and something too spicy filling my nose and assaulting my senses. Hands are everywhere, sliding up my bare legs and dipping under my skirt. My stomach rolls as he pulls me up higher, the hard outline of his dick pressing against my ass. What was in that drink? I’ve been drunk a few times before when I snuck whiskey from my dad’s cabinet, and I never felt like this. My body doesn’t seem to be my own right now, and I only had one drink.

Hot breath hits my bare shoulder when he speaks, low and husky. “You feel what that slutty little skirt does to me? Imagine what it’ll feel like once it’s splitting you open.” My body recoils, stones sinking hard into the bottom of my stomach as my head starts to swirl, my vision blurring further.

My feet don’t work the way they should as Cain stands, holding up the majority of my weight. He leads me around the bar and into a storage closet, closing the door behind us. He lays me down on some broken-down cardboard and drags something in front of the door, flicking on the light above us. It’s harsh, and I let my head loll to the side to get away from it.