Part 5 (1/2)

I took my I.D. back and meekly headed into the door. I would have one quick drink and leave. I didn't want the bouncer thinking I was scared.

The interior of the bar was dark and cool, less crowded than I had expected. I wondered if the bikes outside had anything to do with that.

A cl.u.s.ter of men in leather were laughing in the corner. I seated myself at the farthest edge of the bar away from them, and looked at my hands. They were shaking.

Robert may have come home by now. He would have seen my box in the middle of the floor, and learned I had defied him by keeping it. What had I done? What had I done?

The fear was enough to propel me from my seat and turn me to the door.

”Hey blondie, you just got here, leaving so soon?”

Chapter 9.

J.

”Strength doesn't come from numbers in our world. Strength comes from unity.” Teach raised his shotgla.s.s to the ceiling, his voice rising triumphantly.

J. nodded back solemnly, holding a straight face for as long as he could. Case elbowed him in the ribs and he had to duck his head so Teach wouldn't see his suppressed smile. That was enough for Case. He burst out in a roar of laughter and lifted his shot over his own head.

”Enough speeches,” he cried. ”It's time to drink!”

”f.u.c.kin' kids,” Teach sighed, and lowered his gla.s.s. ”Fine. Tonight we drink to Jeremiah Johnson, who is now a free man in every sense of the word. To J. our brother.”

He paused.

His mouth twisted into a broad smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. ”Don't f.u.c.k this up,” he concluded.

”Don't f.u.c.k this up!” roared the rest of the Sons of Steel, raising their gla.s.ses to their lips.

MacDougal emptied the bourbon down his throat like it was water, slamming the shot gla.s.s down with a grunt. Case and Doctor D. followed suit, with Case letting out a whoop. Doctor D. snorted and coughed, then spit something into a napkin.

J. knocked back his own gla.s.s and sputtered in surprise. The bourbon tasted like diesel fuel and felt even worse. It slammed into his belly like a bowling ball and he immediately had to suppress a burp.

Case laughed and clapped him on the back,,”Howzit taste, jacka.s.s?”

”Like s.h.i.+t,” J. grimaced. ”Guess freedom tastes like s.h.i.+t. Or are you a.s.sholes holding out on me and only getting the cheap stuff?”

”Hey, it's been so long I thought you wouldn't be picky. This is what we get.”

J. nodded in understanding. Rosie's Cellar was not on their usual list of hangouts, but Rosie was so grateful to the Sons for keeping her place from getting trashed during the last summer's flash mobs that whenever they showed up now, Sons drank free.

The cheap stuff for free, that is. The harsh taste of the bourbon burned his throat. ”f.u.c.k, I think I just got an ulcer,” J. choked.

”We gotta get your tolerance back up, man,” Case exhorted him, clapping him repeatedly on the back.

J. looked at his pale friend. The flush was already creeping up his bearded cheeks and the dopey smile was in full effect. Four shot gla.s.ses were already lined up along the bar in front of him. J. looked down at his own single shot gla.s.s and felt the woozy pleasure of a buzz starting to form.

I need to take it easy, he reminded himself. He had no idea how alcohol would affect him now that he could legally drink with his brothers. He hoped he was strong enough to keep the black thoughts and the red rage from taking over.

Case slammed another shot down onto the bar then looked across the room. ”Niiiiice,” he whistled through his teeth.

J. followed his gaze and then sucked in his own breath too. The sight of her huddled there in the corner hit him like a punch to the gut.

”Wow, you don't see chicks like that at the Dirty Dog,” Doctor D. piped up from behind them. The older man licked his lips.

”Back off,” Case mocked. ”She's not interested in an old fart like you. What're you gonna do, take her back to your s.h.i.+thole of an apartment and introduce your mangy cats?”

”Girls like that, they appreciate a man with experience,” Doctor D. shot back, grabbing his crotch. ”You wouldn't know the first thing to do with her.”

”I could think of a couple things,” Case argued.

J. nodded, watching the girl at the corner of the bar. He could think of a few things too. She was gorgeous, but J. could tell she didn't think so. She curled her voluptuous body around herself, like she was trying to take up as little s.p.a.ce as possible. Her white-blond hair fell forward as she ducked her head. It hung in curtains across her face, hiding her from him. J. felt himself step forward. He was moving towards her without meaning to. He ached to brush that hair back. Reveal that face. Expose that neck. He wanted bend his lips to her throat and taste that soft skin. In his mind it tasted like cream.

J. stepped back forcibly and hunched over the bar, trying to hide the erection that rose uncomfortably against his jeans. She wasn't just another piece of a.s.s. She was something new. He called Rosie for another shot. A bit of liquid courage.

”You gonna talk to her?” Case wavered in front of him woozily.

J. downed the shot and slammed the gla.s.s back on the counter. The bourbon didn't hurt as badly this time, and the fiery warmth helped steel his nerves. Just say hi, he exhorted himself, but the attack of nerves continued.

Prison had been a long drought, and since getting out there had been only a couple of girls. Hangers-on, mostly, girls who came to club parties for the thrill of sleeping with real, live bikers. He had gone to a few parties up at Temple with Crash, who lived up there part of the time, but the girls had all been so wasted it was barely worth it. More than one had pa.s.sed out on him midway through the act. It hadn't done much for his self-esteem.

Tonight, though, tonight was his night. Flush with the triumph of freedom, J. was feeling good about himself for the first time in years. Possibly in his life. He shot another quick look at the beautiful girl and told his nerves to go f.u.c.k themselves. He was going to go for it.

He was just getting up from his stool when the girl suddenly bolted from her spot and ran to the door. J. watched the door open at the same time and cringed as the girl almost crashed into Crash who was coming in from his s.h.i.+ft watching the bikes.

”Hey blondie, you just got here, leaving so soon?” Crash leered.

The girl looked up at him, panicked, and J. felt a sudden protective urge. He crossed the floor in three long strides and folded his arms across his chest. He knew his brother was self-conscious about his height, so he drew himself up to his full six feet and crossed his arms.

”Crash, stop being creepy and apologize. You nearly knocked her over.”

”I'm not being creepy. You don't think I'm creepy, do you baby?” Crash put on his best Casanova grin, the kind that worked wonders at sorority parties. J. snorted.

The girl looked from Crash to J, then back to Crash. ”Umm...” she wavered.

”Yeah Crash, you're being creepy,” Case called from the bar. ”Besides, your s.h.i.+ft ain't up yet.”

”Aw c'mon.” Crash's grin faded. ”It's hot out there.”

”Your s.h.i.+ft ain't up,” Case repeated.

Crash looked at the girl and then back to J. ”Aw f.u.c.k it, it's your night man, have fun,” he relented and turned back to the door. He stopped momentarily. ”And sorry 'bout that,” he called contritely over his shoulder.

”Thanks,” the girl muttered in a small voice.