****
Sable spent most of the afternoon crying in her room. She felt like garbage. Worse than garbage. No, she had no rights to the VP of the club, not even close. Apparently, he couldn’t even stand her.
Then why did she love him?
She remembered having a crush on him since she was seventeen. He was strong, ruthless, and in control. She’d watch him lift weights, pretending to be cleaning or sewing patches on cuts. His body was rock hard, weathered, and toned to perfection. The scars and tattoos only made him sexier.
Her mother had tried to get in his bed, but he’d refused her. The fact he wasn’t a pig like so many of the other men in the club only made her attraction to him grow.
But, like he said, she was club pussy and nothing more. She had no rights. She had no future.
Her little sister was four years younger and loved her role in the club. She’d fuck anything that walked. Sable supposed her future had been mapped out for her before she was even born. Her mother was a club whore, and Sable was born into the club, daughter to one of the bikers. She had no clue who. Her sister likely had a different father considering how much her mother got around and how different they looked. Honey had blonde hair and blue eyes and was a favorite with the men.
Sable preferred to keep on the down-low. Every time there was a party or cookout, she’d stay behind the bar, handing out beer and mixing drinks while the other girls competed for the guys’ attention. Keeping a tally of how many guys she could fuck in one night wasn’t her idea of a good time.
After feeling sorry for herself most of the afternoon, she decided she needed to get off the compound for a while. Maybe some retail therapy.
She found Old Boy in the yard, shining the chrome on his bike. Sable smiled as sweetly as she could, then begged for a ride to the strip mall. It was the closest point of civilization from the club, and it promised a few hours of escape from her depressed mood. It was hard wanting something she knew she could never have. Soul-crushing. One day, Dog would find the right woman, and she’d have to watch from the sidelines.
Sable wasn’t sure what happened to Dog. He’d changed into another person seemingly overnight. He’d been so good to her in the past, and now his true feelings were shining through.
Old Dog and Brass dropped her off in front of a clothing store, then rode off together. She was supposed to call them when she was ready to head home.
Sable looked through the window at the clothes but decided she was too hungry to do anything but eat first. She’d missed dinner, so she walked over to the diner. All-day breakfast was her favorite.
The waitress came over once she’d settled into a booth. “You one of those girls from the Hell’s Slaves?”
She just nodded. Sable hated how outsiders judged them, especially the girls. She made her order and watched the cars and people from beyond the large windows. The scent of bacon and eggs made her stomach rumble.
“Hey, beautiful.”
Sable looked up to find a cop standing at the end of the booth. Being raised in a motorcycle club gave her a natural distaste for law enforcement. She ignored him. Cops were usually trying to get information on the club. Being part of Hell’s Slaves was who she was, and she’d never betray them.
The cop was much older than her, clean cut and skinny. She already hated him.
“I’ve seen you here before. I never forget a face. Especially your face.” He sat down in the booth opposite to her.
She rolled her eyes. They’d been taught to keep quiet. It came naturally to her.
“What are you doing out here all alone? They leave you unprotected? You mustn’t be very important to them.”
Her heart raced a little, but she kept calm on the outside. She’d done nothing wrong.
The food came and the waitress dropped it down in front of her. “Want to order, Hank?”
“Give me the usual. Luckily, I won’t be eating alone today.”
He winked at Sable and her stomach roiled.
“I’ll take my food to go,” she said.
Hank grabbed her wrist, way too tight. “Stay put. You’d be stupid and make a scene here. It won’t end well for you.”
She hated how the cops profiled everyone from the club. They’d become enemies, and sometimes allies when they wanted to make extra cash. Forge had a handle on the local police and politicians, but this guy was pushing his authority. The only people who could keep her safe were the brothers at the Hell’s Slaves.
As soon as he relaxed his grip, she pulled her hand away and rubbed her wrist. This was the last thing she needed right now. All she’d wanted was a couple of hours of peace.