Page 4 of Caged Hunger

Finally, Basher managed to gather enough strength to turn and face his buddy and boss.

He wasn’t being kicked out or abandoned.

He was being sent away for his own protection because his boss cared about him… and wanted to make sure he didn’t get hurt.

“Sure thing, boss,” he managed to say, trying his hardest to believe what his head was telling him, even though his heart was telling him something else.

2

CAMERON

Rounding the bar, Cameron let out an exhausted breath as he placed the case of beer onto the polished bartop.

“Jesus, that’s heavy,” Cameron huffed, opening the top of the case and pulling out each bottle one after the other.

“Don’t complain. It’s a great way to work out those massive pipes of yours,” Alexis joked.

Cameron looked down at his arm and groaned.

He knew he wasn’t the strongest chap in the bar, and his muscles could be classified as “under development” if they had to be categorized, but he wouldn’t say he lacked muscle by any means. He was a… work in progress, if anyone asked.

“We can’t all be massive beasts like Marcus and Nikolai. Some of us need to be cute and fun,” Cameron explained.

“Hey, I’m cute and fun,” Nikolai noted as he walked around the bar, carrying two cases in his massive arms. His Russian accent only added to the impression that he was built to break things.

“Yeah, in that ‘I bite the heads off puppies’ sort of way,” Cameron added, breaking down the empty box and passing it to Nikolai so he could take it with him when he went into the back to grab more cases of beer.

“You’re just jealous because my muscles can eat your muscles for breakfast,” Nikolai responded.

Well, he wasn’t wrong there.

“That they could,” Cameron muttered.

They watched as Nikolai disappeared into the back with the empty boxes, then returned to their preopening bar prep. Alexis wiped down the bar while Cameron put away the clean glasses.

The front door opened, flooding the bar with light before plunging it back into its usual smoky darkness.

“Oh, sorry, we’re still closed,” Cameron hollered, turning toward the man who had just walked into their bar. “We open in about an hour.”

His breath caught in his chest the moment he laid eyes on the sexy beast of a man standing in front of him.

The man was tall, at least six foot two, with a shaved head and a beard that gave him a rough and dangerous look.

He was wearing a black, sleeveless, button-up denim shirt, with the first three buttons undone, showing off his massive chest and heavily tattooed arms. To top it all off, the man had a tribal design tattooed on the side of his skull that extended down his neck and disappeared under his shirt.

“I’m looking for Marcus. I’m Basher,” the man said in a deep, growly voice that went straight to Cameron’s dick.

He placed his right hand on the bar, showing off the large rose tattoo he had inked on the back of his hand as he waited for Cameron to answer his question.

Jesus, the man was smoking hot in that ex-convict sort of way.

Cameron immediately felt his dick begin to swell and his throat go dry.

He had a thing for heavily tattooed bad boys, especially those who disrespected their partners. What could he say? He liked toxic men.

That was one of the reasons he had taken a job working as a bartender in a biker bar. Loads of hot and sexy men.

Some gay… some questioning—all toxic as fuck.