CRISTY
I arrive at the clubhouse about four hours later. I was honestly not going to come, but one call from Helena got me moving at sonic speed. She can be really persuasive when she wants to be. More than persuasive. When Helena wants something, it happens. That's just how she operates.
The Iron Brotherhood compound looks different at night. More dangerous, more alive. Motorcycles line the parking lot like sleeping predators, chrome gleaming under the security lights. Music throbs from inside, bass notes that vibrate through the ground.
"Hey beautiful. Whatcha doin' here?"
A young guy with the patch 'Prospect' slurs in my direction when I head towards the door. I don't know him. His eyes are unfocused, his stance unsteady. Oh God, someone save me.
My heart hammers. I freeze, every instinct screaming at me to run.
As if hearing my prayer, Helena comes outside and slaps the man on the back of the head.
"Back off. She's with me."
She sternly states, then turns to me with a softer expression.
"Come on, he won't bother you again."
She smiles at me, leading me inside. Her hand finds mine briefly, a quick squeeze of reassurance before she lets go.
"Thank you."
I decide to express my gratitude. I forgot how dangerous it could be to show up here alone. The compound operates on rules I'm still learning, hierarchies and protocols that everyone else seems to understand instinctively.
"Don't mention it. Gotta protect my cute squirrel, right?"
I scowl at the nickname. Helena's been calling me a chipmunk at first because of the cheerful disposition I showed at school, but now she sticks to 'squirrel' or 'Goldie', saying I'm cute. What does me being 'cute' have to do with anything with me being a 'squirrel' is a mystery to me. I'm only glad Helena doesn't call me that in public. She claims it's 'for her use only'.
The inside of the clubhouse assaults my senses. Smoke, leather, whiskey, and something else. Testosterone maybe. Danger definitely. The kind of place my mother would have a heart attack just thinking about me being in.
"Want a drink?"
Helena asks as we near the bar. The place is packed, with a lot of bikers lounging at the bar or in the booths, and girls in skimpy clothes either strolling around the room or sitting with the guys. The women are beautiful, confident, wearing clothes that show every curve. I wish I was brave enough to wear something like that, but with all the weight on my body I would probably look ridiculous.
"Hey, Cristy! Damn, you got even more beautiful since the last time I saw you!"
Wolf appraises, checking me out with a predatory look. I've learned that he's quite a player. He's been flirting with me after being turned down by Helena, but I have no interest in him. Wolf is attractive, charming even, but he's not the one who makes my pulse race.
There's someone else that caught my eye.
And he doesn't look happy.
Gunner sits in a booth across the room, and his expression is dark, almost angry. His jaw is tight, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip. Why is he angry? Does he not want me here?
The thought makes my chest ache. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe those moments last summer when I thought he looked at me differently, when his touch lingered just a second too long, when his voice went soft when he said my name. Maybe it was all in my head.
"Hi, Wolf."
I shyly greet, suddenly feeling self-conscious. My hands fidget with the hem of my shirt. Before I can say anything else, Helena takes me to the booth with her.
The booth where Gunner is sitting.
My heart stops. Starts again. Races.
I'm so screwed.
Every step toward him feels like walking toward the edge of a cliff. Part of me wants to run. Part of me never wants to leave. He watches me approach, and I can't read his expression. Can't tell if that darkness in his eyes is anger or something else entirely.
Helena slides into the booth first, confident and easy. She belongs here in a way I never will.
I hesitate.
"Sit down, Goldie."
Helena pats the seat next to her. I slide in, acutely aware of Gunner across from me. His presence fills the space, makes the air feel thick.
"Hey."
The word comes out smaller than I intended. Quieter. I hate how nervous I sound, how young.
"Hey, Cristy."
Gunner's voice is rough, like gravel and smoke. His eyes meet mine for a brief moment before he looks away, jaw working like he's chewing on words he won't say.
The tension is suffocating. Helena glances between us, a knowing look on her face that makes me want to disappear through the floor.
This is going to be a long summer.
A very long summer.