Striker: No Prisoners MC Book 1 (20 page)

“How do you want us to divide up?” Cammie asked from the center of the room.

“I’d like to keep the groups fairly even in number. So if you think your strengths would be better served in one group over the other feel free to join that group. If you could go either way, then please join whichever group needs extra people. Sound good?”

They went around the room and each person gave a little intro speech. Lila jotted down notes, and was glad to have a name to put with each face. She had to cut Earl off when he spoke for over five minutes about how wonderful it was for her to want to prevent injuries in the high school athletes. When they were finished, they split into the two groups, and ended up with two teams of six, exactly as Lila had hoped.

“Great guys. This is perfect. I’ll bounce between the groups as much as possible, but in the beginning I’ll probably spend most of my time with the education group so I can help with the medical jargon.”

Everyone nodded their agreement, and a buzz of conversation filled the room as ideas and plans began to form. Of course, Earl was in the group she’d have to spend most of her time with, but she vowed to treat him like any other committee member and not let him distract her.

Two hours later they wrapped up for the night with plans to meet at the same time and place next week. Each volunteer worked hard, and they accomplished more in one evening than Lila expected. She was nearly bouncing with fulfilled excitement as she crossed multiple items off her to do list.

“Hey girl.” Marcie strolled up to Lila and gave her a hug. “This is going to be great. You’ve really got a solid team here.”

“Thanks, Marcie. I think so too,” she said as she returned the embrace.

“And I see the president of your fan club is—”

“Excuse me, Dr. Emerson? May I have a word with you? In private.” Earl sent a distasteful look in Marcie’s direction.

Marcie raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on Mr. White’s rude behavior. “I’ll meet you outside, hon, I’m sure the guys are waiting on us.” She left the room after Lila nodded at her.

“I wanted to offer to walk you outside. There are about five of those motorcycle hoodlums waiting out in the parking lot, and I wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable walking out to your car alone.”

Lila considered him before she spoke. He had to know she was friendly with them. She’d just hugged Marcie, and after the incident at the hospital, most of the town was aware she had some kind of connection to Striker.

“You can walk with me, Earl, but I want you to know that the motorcycle club is no threat to me.” She wasn’t about to lay claim to Striker, her head was too mixed up about their relationship, but there wasn’t any point in hiding the fact they were, at the very least, friends. It was a small town. The cat was already out of that bag. “I’m friends with a number of them, so, while I appreciate your concern, it’s not necessary.”

They arrived at the parking lot, and Lila spotted Striker chatting with Marcie and Hook. She couldn’t believe Hook was able to ride his motorcycle so soon after he was assaulted, and had strongly advised against it, but here he was. Striker told her there was no way he’d let Marcie come without him while there was trouble with the Grimm Brothers.

“I see,” Earl told her as Marcie jogged in their direction. Rather than sadness as she had expected, his voice was filled with profound disappointment, as though he’d lost respect for her. “You’re too good for those criminals. Everyone knows that, and no one understands why you spend time with him. Mother told me stories about them that would make you think twice about associating with them. I can tell you if you’d like.”

Marcie reached them in time to catch Earl’s last few sentences. She shot a frown at him before she grabbed Lila’s hand. “Come on, girl. We gotta roll. Don’t want to be too late for Gumby’s birthday bash.”

Lila nodded at Earl White, and let Marcie pull her toward the bikes.

“I told Striker I’d come get you so your boyfriend wouldn’t get too jealous.” Marcie giggled as she towed Lila along.

“Gee thanks, Marcie.”

She reached Striker’s side, and he pressed a swift kiss to her mouth. “How’d it go, babe?”

Some of the excitement of the successful evening came back to her at his inquiry. “It was amazing. I have a fantastic team, and I think we’ll get done ahead of schedule.”

Striker smiled at her and handed her the helmet. “I’m proud of you, Lila. You’ve been working your ass off the past few days to prepare for tonight. I’m glad it went even better than expected.” He gave her another kiss. “We’ll swing by your house so you can change then head to the clubhouse. Ready to go?”

“You bet.” She climbed on behind him and her eyes drifted to Mr. White as Striker pulled out of the lot. He stood, staring after her with his mouth turned down. She couldn’t help but replay his last words in her head. Were people in town talking about her? Is that how life would be if this relationship became something more? Would she be viewed in a negative light because of her association with Striker? Worries swirled around her brain and took up some of the space that had been occupied with positive thoughts only moments ago.

She forced herself to push the worry aside, determined not to be a downer for tonight’s event. It was important for the club, they needed a reason to celebrate and take their minds off the trouble with the Grimms for one evening.

Not everyone would be at the party. At least three men would be on surveillance tonight, trying to find out exactly what was going on within the Grimm’s walls. The club needed some intel they could use in their favor, to turn the tables on the rival MC.

Lila sighed and rested her cheek against Striker’s back. When she inhaled, the leather smell made her smile. The negative consequences to staying with him seemed to far outweigh the positives, and she wanted to soak up every morsel she could before reality came crashing down around her like an old building hit by a wrecking ball.

By the time they arrived, the party was already in full swing. Striker hooked an arm across Lila’s shoulders, and drew her to his side while they walked toward the entrance. He never neglected an opportunity to touch her in some manner, a fact that thrilled her, and one she was quickly becoming addicted to despite her misgivings about their relationship. He communicated with touch, and could sooth her as well as arouse her.

“You ready for this, babe?” He looked sexy tonight, dark and a little dangerous in deep blue jeans with a black button up shirt under his cut.

“Of course.” She winced at the slight squeak in her voice. So much for hiding her anxiety about her first biker party.

“Right.” He tugged her along toward the door. “You and your old man spend a lot of time at wild biker parties back in DC?”

“Har har, Mr. Hilarious. Just because I didn’t hang out with bikers then doesn’t mean I can’t hack it now.”

He chuckled, and gave her a quick kiss on her neck. “Have I told you how smokin’ hot you look tonight?” The words were whispered against her ear.

Lila wore ass-hugging black leather leggings with a shimmery silver halter. The top ended about an inch above her pants, and showed off a peek of bare stomach, and the neckline had a deep V that revealed more than a hint of cleavage. Black leather ankle boots with a silver zipper and three inch heels completed the outfit. At Striker’s request, her hair was down and flowed past her shoulders. Her style was very different from most of the women here, but she liked to think of it as biker chic. Striker seemed to approve, and that was all she cared about. “I think you may have mentioned it right before you felt me up as we were trying to leave.”

The grin he gave her could only be described as wolfish. “Want a repeat?” he asked, wagging his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

Lila laughed and lightly smacked his arm. “We’re already thirty minutes late, it will have to wait until later. Good thing you have a room here.”

They arrived at the door, and Lila took a fortifying breath. Here goes nothing. Striker stepped in front of her, and turned, facing her. He slid his hands into her hair and held her still. “Seriously, babe, don’t worry. I’m sure this will be different from any party you’ve been to, but I promise you no one will bother you. I’d kill them. Okay?”

“I know, Striker. I always feel safe when I’m with you. I’m really not worried.”

He held the door and she stepped into the building. The clubhouse was packed. Bodies were crammed in everywhere she looked. Waiting for Striker to follow gave her eyes a chance to adjust to the dark smoky atmosphere of the open space. As she gazed around, Lila had to clench her teeth to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. Women wearing little more than their skin were everywhere. They danced out on the floor, danced on tables, and danced on laps. Actually dancing might have been too formal a word. Gyrating or writhing was probably more accurate.

Some of the women were doing way more than dancing. She saw couples making out, groping, and a few she couldn’t help but wonder if they weren’t doing even more. The whole place reeked of cigarettes, a bit of marijuana, and booze. A good majority of the partiers seemed more than halfway drunk already. Okay, Striker was right. This was not her scene at all, and she instantly felt out of place, like a shy kid on her first day at a new school.

Striker’s arm slid around her waist, and she turned until she faced him. “You look terrified, Doc,” he said chuckling.

“I’m not. It’s just, well I’m—” She rolled her eyes at her own foolishness. Striker kissed her and she felt slightly better. “Who are all these girls?”

“Some ol’ ladies, some local girls who just come to party, and strippers.”

“Ah, strippers.” Lila rolled her eyes again. “Of course. Sorry, lost my head there for a minute. Who doesn’t have strippers at their parties?”

Striker winked at her. “Come on, wild thing.” He guided her to the right side of the room where a row of square tables was lined against the wall. When she spotted Marcie and Hook, Lila felt herself relax. Their table was devoid of strippers, and Marcie had all her clothes on, which Lila took as a good sign.

As they drew closer, Marcie hopped up and rushed over to greet them. After accepting a hug and peck on the cheek from Striker she focused on Lila. “Hey girl! Are you freaking out yet?”

“She’s good, Marce,” Striker answered for her.

“I’m good,” Lila parroted.

“Sure you are.” Marcie laughed. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to give you the four-one-one on parties around here. With all Hook’s drama, it didn’t even occur to me to warn you about what you’d be stepping into.” She linked her arm through Lila’s and drew her away from Striker, toward their table where two empty chairs sat waiting for them.

When they reached the table, Marcie resumed her position next to Hook. He slung his arm across her shoulders, and pulled her close to kiss the side of her head. “Sit down, Lila,” he said as he gestured to the two empty chairs. “This area is where those of us with a ball and chain hang during these parties.”

With a roll of her emerald eyes, Marcie smiled at Lila. “It gets pretty crazy out there. A lot of the guys who come here with their ol’ ladies hang off to the sides like this. Although I know for a fact that these two,” she said, pointing her thumbs at Striker and Hook, “and a few others who aren’t into the whole strippers gyrating in their face thing, hang out over here just because.”

Lila moved to sit in the empty chair, but Striker snaked an arm around her waist, and hauled her onto his lap. He settled her against his broad chest, before he rested his hands on her thighs. After giving her waist a squeeze, he pressed his mouth to her ear. “See, not so bad over here. Like Marcie said, it’s been a long time since I was over there in the madness. Gets old after a while.”

“Not quite the badass you pretend to be, are you?” she teased, earning her a nip on the ear. “Hey.” She giggled. “That hurt!”

“You want a drink, gorgeous?”

“A beer would be good.”

“Hey, Kid!” Striker bellowed.

“Yeah, VP?” A tall, lanky young guy with buzzed blond hair and a prospect patch jogged over. Lila recognized him as the prospect that was with her the day she was attacked at the hospital.

“Couple of beers, and four shots of tequila.”

“Sure thing.” He jogged toward the bar.

Lila raised an eyebrow at him. “Thirsty?”

“We’re late, we have some catching up to do. Besides, we’re planning to crash here tonight. Might as well make the most of it.”

The prospect returned after a minute with shots and two beers as requested.

“Thank you.” Lila gave him a smile when he placed their drinks on the table.

“No problem, miss,” the prospect said as he beamed at her. “You sure are pretty.”

Jester chose that moment to amble up to their table, his arm slung around the shoulders of Gumby, who leaned heavily on Jester for support. “Bring me one of those, prospect.” He pointed to the tequila shots. “And it’s doctor, not miss. And stop flirting, asshole. She’s sitting on the VP’s lap for Christ’s sake.” He slapped the prospect on the side of his shaved head. Pretty damn hard in Lila’s opinion, but she kept her mouth shut.

“How’re ya feeling, Gumb?” Marcie asked with a wink at Lila. Gumby’s cut was hanging off one shoulder, his typically impeccable hair was mussed and pointed in multiple directions, and there was something pinkish all over his collar. Was that lipstick?

“I am feeling great, doll. You gonna save me a dance?”

“I don’t think so, bro, you can barely stay on your feet. Don’t need you breaking my woman’s toes or knocking her down,” Hook answered for her with a snort.

“Seriously, Gumby, maybe you should sit down or something before you pass out, and Stitch has to glue your head back together,” Marcie suggested.

Jester unwound his arm from Gumby’s shoulders, and shoved him down into the vacant chair. Gumby leaned his head against the wall and his eyelids dropped shut.

“Well, so much for the birthday boy.” Striker laughed. He handed Lila a shot and pushed the other two toward Marcie and Hook. Kid had returned with Jester’s shot by then, and they all lifted their glasses. “To Gumby. Let’s hope he makes it to thirty-five and one day.”