Blood & Bones: Ozzy (Blood Fury MC 9)

She shimmied herself forward until she was close enough to be glued to the patches on his back that she wanted to check out in the light.

She grabbed onto his narrow hips, but he quickly grabbed both of her hands and planted them on his gut instead so she was embracing him tightly. “Don’t wanna lose you,” he grumbled, then hit the throttle, shot out of the parking lot and onto Main Street.

As they rode through town, she closed her eyes and remembered herself when she was a child, holding onto her father just as tightly as he took them through a maze of back country roads.

Halfway through their rides, he would stop in some random town and grab her an ice cream cone or a hamburger with French fries before they headed home. Those rides were the only time she put her books down willingly.

All her father had to do was show her his Harley key by shaking it in the air and excitement filled her.

She really missed him. She also missed her mother.

She blinked back the sting in her eyes and simply breathed in the mid-August night air as the motorcycle roared down a couple of side streets before Ozzy steered his “sled” down a dark, narrow alley.

He slowed it to a stop, then crab-walked it backwards into a line of similar motorcycles.

When the bike finally went quiet, she said, “Wow, you really do have VIP parking.”

“Got connections,” was all he said as she unwrapped her arms from around his waist and he helped her dismount.

She glanced around and had no idea where they were or what kind of “joint” they were entering since there were no signs out back. Well, except for one on the door that said, “Employees Only.”

As she wandered closer to the building, he quickly dismounted and called out, “Hang on.”

After grabbing her wrist and tugging her back to him, he dug his fingers into her hair, pulled the elastic hair band and dug out any pins, this time not throwing them over his shoulder but offering them to her in his open palm. “Gonna need these later.”

She tucked the items into her front jeans pocket and then followed on his heels when he strode over to the steel rear door of wherever they were and opened it for her. “Where are we?”

“Bar called Crazy Pete’s.”

She frowned at the familiar name. She remembered hearing about this bar since it had been around when she was a kid. In fact, her father used to go there regularly to hang out with his buddies.

She also remembered asking him once why his buddies never came over to their house to hang out and why he always met them elsewhere.

Her father had only said, “Best that way,” and never explained further.

“I can’t believe this place is still around.”

He turned toward her, holding the door open, and waited. “Still around.”

The sound of the band playing inside could be heard with the door closed but now that it wasn’t, it seemed really loud.

Extremely loud.

She also heard raised voices of people just trying to be heard over the music.

She stepped inside and instantly had a flash of regret for coming here. This wasn’t her type of scene. But then again, she had to remind herself that Ozzy wasn’t the type of guy she hung out with, either.

Right now she was far out of her comfort zone. Even more than earlier at the class reunion. The only difference was, as opposed to the high school gym, no one would know her here.

He grabbed her hand in his and tugged her along the packed, dimly-lit, short hallway, and with every step they took, the noise became louder and the bass of the music began to thump more intensely in her chest.

Rock.

That was the type of music the band was playing.

She was surprised she actually recognized the song. They were playing Who Do You Love by George Thorogood. It also sounded like the whole bar was singing along.

He didn’t stop moving once they hit the open area of the bar and she realized just how packed the place was. Where the crowd stood near a low stage, the only lights were shining on the band itself.

She took a quick glance at them but quickly realized she had to watch where they were going because Ozzy was like a draft horse pulling a wagon. Her being the wagon. She wanted to do her best not to trip over her own feet, or someone else’s, and not face-plant in front of what might be a hundred people.

He didn’t stop until he got to the crowded bar and instead of wedging himself between two patrons to get the attention of a bartender, he pulled her around to the end, flipped open the hinged section of the bar that kept customers out from behind it, and yanked her with him into the area where those customers were forbidden.