5 Bikers for Valentines

“Here's to another night in hell,” Raya mumbled.

You could say that again.

~ooo000ooo~

“Hey, hot stuff, here's your drinks,” Tommy said, pushing a tray of cocktails toward me.

“Thanks, Tommy.”

I would have grumbled about being called ‘hot stuff’ and put him in his place, but at the moment, I had bigger things to worry about. Like the group of men who'd just sauntered in and were getting a little handsy with the waitresses.

A tall man with no neck grabbed Sasha's ass, and then looked over at me with pure lust in his eyes. He looked familiar, and while I couldn't place him, I knew he was famous for one thing or another. His entourage parted like the Red Sea as I walked over with the drinks they'd ordered – originally from Sasha.

I took over the group for her when I found her hiding behind the bar, nearly in tears. Sasha was just a petite little girl, too shy for her own good. She couldn't handle a rowdy group of guys groping her. No one should have to, but, some of us were able to handle it better than others. Some of us knew how to put them in their places.

“Vodka tonic?” I called out, handing out the orders from the tray of drinks in my hand.

They'd moved over to a private table, clearing the middle of the bar they'd been clogging before, and proved what I suspected – the guy with no neck was someone I should know. Or at least, somebody I should've heard of.

“Charles, I think that's yours,” No Neck called out. “I had a scotch on the rocks.”

“Yes, sir, right here,” I grabbed the drink from the tray and handed it over to him.

“Where's Sasha?” he asked, meeting my gaze with a cocky-ass grin I want to smack off his dumb looking face.

“She's on break,” I lied, feigning a smile. “So, you have me now.”

“That's fine with me,” No Neck said, giving me a once over, his eyes sliding up and down my body so intently I could almost feel the touch. “I like curvy brunettes as much as I like petite blondes.”

As he spoke, he reached out and stroked my dark brown hair, twirling it around his thick fingers.

Everything about this guy was huge. From his chest to his hands, he was one of the largest, most muscular men I'd ever seen in real life. He was like a paler version of the Incredible Hulk or something.

I ignored his comment, moved my head so I could get his fingers out of my hair, and returned to handing out the drinks to his party.

No Neck asked, “What's your name?”

“Casey,” I answered.

“Do you know who I am, Casey?”

I smiled sweetly, placing the now empty tray down on the table, and faced No Neck.

“I assume you're someone important. Probably someone who thinks very highly of himself,” I said. “But I have a feeling you're going to tell me exactly who you are.”

The guys around him laughed uncomfortably. One patted him hard on the back.

“She got you, Johnny-boy,” he beamed.

No Neck, otherwise known as Johnny, cringed. As he looked at me, he clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together. I turned to leave, but he grabbed hold of my arm, forcing me to turn back around and meet his gaze. He was clearly not amused by my antics.

“I'm Jon Lincoln,” he hissed. “Does that name ring a bell, now?”

“Ah yes, it does,” I said, slipping my arm free from his grasp. I smiled, leaning toward him. “I've read all about you.”

Jon Lincoln was a football player, for either the Rams or the Chargers – one of the LA teams. I couldn't keep them straight. Honestly, I never really cared for football. I just knew the name. More than that though, I knew his reputation, and it wasn't a good one.

I knew I should stop myself. Knew I should have just walked away right then and there. But, the little devil that sat on my shoulder – I'm relatively certain he killed the angel because there was no balance there – egged me on. My mouth was open, and the words were falling out before I could even think to stop them.