man's eye. It made her feel vulnerable and wet, very wet. “Maybe I do,” she said with a shrug, trying to stay cool.
She wanted revenge on Todd. She wanted him to know how it felt to see someone you cared about with somebody else. She wasn't doing this for him though, she didn't want him back. It was for her.
“Are you serious?” the biker asked.
Miranda nodded. “I saw your gang ride in this morning. You're the Braves, right? A heavy outfit, and I like your style. I want in.”
One of the men grinned and moved forward. He clamped his hand over her ass, squeezing it. “Sure honey, I'll give you what you want.” The man with the tear tattoo grabbed the other one’s wrist.
“You know the rules. We have to bring her to the war chief first. She's his property, until he says otherwise. You know better than that Ramsey.”
Ramsey scoffed, wriggling out of the tattooed man's iron grip. “To hell with the war chief! I'm tired of his sloppy seconds. I want some fresh meat,” he said, moving towards Miranda again.
It happened in a flash. The tattooed man buried his fist in the side of Ramsey's face. There was a sharp crack, and Ramsey fell limply to the pavement. Then, the tattooed man reached into a cooler next to him and brought out two frosty beers. “Here,” he said, giving one to Miranda and another to the other biker, who was gawking at Ramsey. “Give this to Ramsey when he comes to his senses and tell him he's lucky. If the war chief had heard him say that, he would have gotten a lot worse.” The other biker nodded.
“Alright, hot stuff. Follow me,” the tattooed man said, beckoning her into the neon glow of the bar.
Miranda took a sip of the beer. It was cool and refreshing. The bar was packed with bodies who were clad in leather. It smelled like leather, sweat, and smoke. Strangely, it turned Miranda on.
“Hey, war chief!” the tattooed man yelled over the noise.
A man swiveled around in his stool at the bar, and Miranda's heart froze. It was him! It was the man she couldn't stop fantasizing about. There he was, in the flesh, right in front of her. He was wearing the same leather jacket. It was unzipped, baring his beautiful body. On his left peck was a cross tattoo, the one she had sketched on herself. He had a square jaw, peppered with stubble, and a scar that ran across his left cheek. His eyes were brown and had laser-like focus. When they fell on her, she seized up. Suddenly, she felt hot. It was as if those eyes would make her burst into flames.
“Diego,” he said with a smile, flashing pearl-white teeth. “What can I do for you?”
Diego shook his head. “Not for me, war chief. For her,” he said with a nod. “She says she wants to be a Brave. She wants to be patched in.”
The war chief's eyes fell on Miranda again. They traced around her frame. Miranda did not shy away from them this time. She took another swig of her beer and stared right back at him. He was so muscular and broad, such an imposing figure and the height of physical perfection. “Is that true?” he asked her directly. “You want to be a Brave?”
Miranda nodded. “I do.”
The war chief nodded slowly, considering. Finally, he spoke. “Diego, give me a minute would ya?”
Diego nodded solemnly. “Yes, war chief.” Then, he disappeared back into the crowd without even a second’s hesitation, as the war chief beckoned for her to sit down. She did and was greeted by the same intoxicating scent she still dreamed about in the comfort of her bed, while her fingers slid deep inside of her.
“Do you have a name?” he asked.
“Do you?” she retorted.
He laughed. “Oh, a tough chick, eh?”
“Tough enough,” she responded.
“Brady, Brady Long is my name. Ever heard of it?”
She had, on the news. Brady Long was a notorious gang leader, one who was suspect to over a hundred different crimes, including drug
She wanted revenge on Todd. She wanted him to know how it felt to see someone you cared about with somebody else. She wasn't doing this for him though, she didn't want him back. It was for her.
“Are you serious?” the biker asked.
Miranda nodded. “I saw your gang ride in this morning. You're the Braves, right? A heavy outfit, and I like your style. I want in.”
One of the men grinned and moved forward. He clamped his hand over her ass, squeezing it. “Sure honey, I'll give you what you want.” The man with the tear tattoo grabbed the other one’s wrist.
“You know the rules. We have to bring her to the war chief first. She's his property, until he says otherwise. You know better than that Ramsey.”
Ramsey scoffed, wriggling out of the tattooed man's iron grip. “To hell with the war chief! I'm tired of his sloppy seconds. I want some fresh meat,” he said, moving towards Miranda again.
It happened in a flash. The tattooed man buried his fist in the side of Ramsey's face. There was a sharp crack, and Ramsey fell limply to the pavement. Then, the tattooed man reached into a cooler next to him and brought out two frosty beers. “Here,” he said, giving one to Miranda and another to the other biker, who was gawking at Ramsey. “Give this to Ramsey when he comes to his senses and tell him he's lucky. If the war chief had heard him say that, he would have gotten a lot worse.” The other biker nodded.
“Alright, hot stuff. Follow me,” the tattooed man said, beckoning her into the neon glow of the bar.
Miranda took a sip of the beer. It was cool and refreshing. The bar was packed with bodies who were clad in leather. It smelled like leather, sweat, and smoke. Strangely, it turned Miranda on.
“Hey, war chief!” the tattooed man yelled over the noise.
A man swiveled around in his stool at the bar, and Miranda's heart froze. It was him! It was the man she couldn't stop fantasizing about. There he was, in the flesh, right in front of her. He was wearing the same leather jacket. It was unzipped, baring his beautiful body. On his left peck was a cross tattoo, the one she had sketched on herself. He had a square jaw, peppered with stubble, and a scar that ran across his left cheek. His eyes were brown and had laser-like focus. When they fell on her, she seized up. Suddenly, she felt hot. It was as if those eyes would make her burst into flames.
“Diego,” he said with a smile, flashing pearl-white teeth. “What can I do for you?”
Diego shook his head. “Not for me, war chief. For her,” he said with a nod. “She says she wants to be a Brave. She wants to be patched in.”
The war chief's eyes fell on Miranda again. They traced around her frame. Miranda did not shy away from them this time. She took another swig of her beer and stared right back at him. He was so muscular and broad, such an imposing figure and the height of physical perfection. “Is that true?” he asked her directly. “You want to be a Brave?”
Miranda nodded. “I do.”
The war chief nodded slowly, considering. Finally, he spoke. “Diego, give me a minute would ya?”
Diego nodded solemnly. “Yes, war chief.” Then, he disappeared back into the crowd without even a second’s hesitation, as the war chief beckoned for her to sit down. She did and was greeted by the same intoxicating scent she still dreamed about in the comfort of her bed, while her fingers slid deep inside of her.
“Do you have a name?” he asked.
“Do you?” she retorted.
He laughed. “Oh, a tough chick, eh?”
“Tough enough,” she responded.
“Brady, Brady Long is my name. Ever heard of it?”
She had, on the news. Brady Long was a notorious gang leader, one who was suspect to over a hundred different crimes, including drug