Chapter 6

The next morning I awoke to an empty bed. Confusion swamped through me as I climbed off the mattress, then made my way out of Torin's room and toward my own.

After softly closing the door behind me, I made my way over to my dresser and pulled out clean panties, a tank top, and a pair of shorts. Once dressed, I hurried from my room and toward the kitchen. 

As I entered the room's large expanse, I was happy to see the only one occupying it was Crystal. Over the rim of her coffee cup, she eyed me, amusement and a knowing look written on her features. Smiling at me, she greeted me with a chuckle in her voice. "Good Morning, Marlowe. Did you have an enjoyable night's sleep?"

"Morning, Chrys," I returned, giving her a curious look at seeing her lips twitch with held back laughter. What's with her? I mused, giving my head a small shake.

The sound of bike's revving their engines filtered into the kitchen as I moved about, preparing myself a cup of coffee. There was always some kind of noise and activity going on in the compound, and it seemed today was no different than any other. I could hear the buzz and grind of power tools being used in the shops. As well,  the sound of a playful argument out in the yard. But even with the usual sounds, it was quieter than normal. 

"Why's it so quiet?" I asked.

"Guys went on a run. Something about the Proofers trying to muscle in on some of our territory," Crystal responded nonchalantly.

Crystal was Tat's ol' lady, and she was stretching her neck out just to keep me abreast of what was going down with the runs, or conflict with our rivals. Tat confided in her confidentiality as usually club business wasn't considered women's business. The only exception was if it directly affected us. I was always appreciative of the information she offered, and especially so this morning, as Torin hadn't even woken me up to say goodbye.

~~

Hours later, I was again working the bar—drug-free and feeling better than I had in a long time—and handing out drinks, sandwiches and fried foods. 

Most of the members who hadn't gone on the run with the others were older, but not so old they couldn't take care of business if it was needed. They had served the cause and earned an easier lifestyle. 

They still wore their Kuttes, but slowed reflexes and achy bones, as well bad eyesight, had allowed them the slower pace of protecting the compound, rather than being in the thick of  the high-intensity and dangerous runs. Dad's Charter moved a lot of merchandise, anything from guns to drugs, so in many cases, it was the younger members who made these types of runs. 

I had just finished pulling a beer off tap, when I heard commotion outside the bar, and as I slid the glass toward Jerky, named so because he loved beef jerky, Dillon and a few of the members pushed into the bar. 

My eyes immediately caught the blood stains on their clothing. 

Damn near leaping over the top of the bar counter, I ran toward Dillon. I could see the half-crazy look in his eyes as they settled on me. Moisture filled their depths, then stepping toward me, he pulled me against his chest, his voice emerging in a husky cry. "They didn't make it out, Mar—...Dad and Torin didn't fucking make it out."

FOUR YEARS LATER

Setting the glass of bourbon and coke down on the smooth surface of the counter, I slid it toward the man sitting before me. Turning, I grabbed a bottle of tequila, Curacao, and lime juice. After pouring the mixture over ice in a salt-rimmed rocks glass, I grabbed a swizzle stick and poked it within the Margarita. Afterward, I placed a napkin and the drink down on the waiting tray and turned toward the man waiting bar next to me.

"Jess, you've asked me that same thing a dozen times. A dozen times, I've said no—must I really make it a baker's dozen?" I questioned.

"No, this time you can say yes," he replied, winking at me, then twisting the top off three bottles of Corona, he poked three lime wedges within their mouths. Afterward, setting the beers on the same tray as the drink I'd just prepared, he pushed it toward the waiting server and turned back to face me.

"What would you do if I said yes?" I teased, my hands busy wiping the counter off.

"Run the fuck other direction and as fast as I could—that mean motherfucker of yours would slit my throat in a heartbeat," he muttered.

I didn't bother correcting him about calling Rook mine. Instead, putting away the cloth, I just laughed and murmured, "Nah, Rook's a giant teddy-bear! Speaking of Rook, I'm outta here."

Seconds later, I stepped out from behind the bar, and paused as the reflection in the wall mirror caught my attention. I gazed at the woman I saw in it. Her sable colored hair was long and sleek. Several strands on the right side supported dark blue streaks down their length, and her eyes, a deep blue in coloring, were slightly tipped at the sides as they gazed back at me.

The woman's eye makeup was a bit dramatic—smokey-eyed and heavily lined with black eyeliner and mascara—an addition, which enhanced lashes already thick and long without the artificial help. 

In her left eyebrow, she wore a small hoop, and a tiny diamond stud graced the crease of her left nostril. An additional grouping of small hoops took up residence on the side of her bottom lip. Her left ear supported a Daith piercing, and in her right, a Helix.

I shook my head as I inspected my reflection, wondering if I would ever get used to seeing myself look so different. My new image was far sultrier, far sexier, than the old me had ever been.