Secret Desires (Roughshod Rollers MC 4)

He doesn’t say anything. He just comes up behind me and looms over everyone, dropping his expression into a dark look. As soon as the two men notice, they snap their mouths closed and drop back into their seats.

This isn’t the first time that I’ve used Kyle’s enormous height and muscled bulk to my advantage. More than once, I’ve joked that I need to employ him officially as a bouncer. He’s always joked back that he wouldn’t take the job, because then he wouldn’t get to drink.

“Right,” I say pleasantly. “Now, can someone tell me what happened?”

The drunk guy sinks lower in his seat.

“Dropped my drink,” he mutters.

“If you do it again, I’m going to have to kick you out,” I warn. “Now, can the two of you please move? I need to clean up this glass.”

The men were gone before the last words left my mouth. I snort.

“Intimidating as always,” I say to my friend.

“They’re just fucking cowards,” Kyle says easily. “Want some help?”

“It’s fine, it won’t take too long,” I say, shaking my head.

I clean up the glass, wiping up the spilled alcohol (the bastard spilled almost an entire drink), and head back to the bar. There are several people waiting now, some more patiently than others. Kyle is sitting back on the stool, nursing his drink, occasionally glancing at the door as he waits for Allison and her friend.

“Maybe her friend just doesn’t want to come,” I suggest as I pass him.

“Nah, they’re on their way,” Kyle says, waving his phone. “They’ll be here soon. Allison’s got the car.”

I grin. There’s still something amusing about seeing the small car Allison and Kyle bought together. It’s not tiny but it isn’t large, and watching Kyle squeeze himself into it is hilarious. It’s also a little weird; in all the time I’ve known him, Kyle has only ever driven his motorbike.

“So, will you be good for tomorrow?” Kyle asks.

“Tomorrow?”

As soon as I say it, memory hits. We’re meant to be taking down some walls tomorrow. Now that the founder’s house is back in our hands, kindly donated by the sheepish authorities for our use as long as we fix it up and pay minimal rent, we’ve all been doing our best to work hard on it. Even Tom Green has turned up once or twice, taking a hammer and swinging it with all his might. Some of the others have wondered if the only reason he comes is to take his anger out on something that won’t swing back.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I say. “I haven’t had time to look at it this week. How is the work going?”

“Not much left,” Kyle says with a grin. “Some of the builders are starting to look at laying concrete.”

I grimace. The original flooring was motheaten wood panels; my foot went through one board last year, twisting my ankle and putting me on crutches for a few weeks.

“I’m just glad the work has been quick,” I say.

“Got a lot of people to help,” Kyle says, draining his beer. “Everyone’s pitching in. We can use the money to get materials soon. Fucking Alan keeps talking inflated prices for his help, though… We’re not going to ask him for help.”

I laugh. We have several builders in the Roughshod Rollers, and many of them have put their hands up to do the work at a discounted price. It doesn’t surprise me, though, that some of them are taking the opportunity to

get paid more than they normally would.

“Alan’s always been an opportunist,” I agree. “He joined the Roughshod Rollers for prestige.”

Kyle snorts and then laughs loudly. Several people look over curiously.

“Fuck that!” he crows. “He must be a fucking idiot if he thinks we get anything more than dirty looks!”

“I think he’s realizing that,” I smirk. “I won’t be surprised if he quits before long.”

Kyle’s phone buzzes. He glances at it and smiles.

“Allison’s here,” he tells me. “With her friend. Be nice to her, yeah? Allison said she’s nervous,” he grins. “Apparently she’s nice. You never know…”