Summer Pain

By: Destiny Blaine

Heroes and Rogues: Book Three

Chapter One

She walked in the Heroes and Rogues motorcycle clubhouse like she’d been there a dozen times before. Standing about five-foot-three, if that, she wore her confidence and attitude about as tightly bound as that mess of golden blonde hair piled high behind her head.

Tigger couldn’t imagine why she was there, but he saw a major life disturbance brewing from a mile away. Apparently his sidekick, Cara, understood the kind of trouble she represented, too.

Cara, also known as Mama and commonly referred to as the club’s sheep—the woman who’d been slung around more times than a bale of hay—made a beeline for the front door. By the time she reached the middle of the room, she was face-to-face with the beautiful stranger responsible for turning Tigger’s head for a second time.

“You gotta be lost,” Cara said, slapping a dish towel over her right shoulder and tapping her left foot.

The gal looked Cara up and down before stretching her neck in an effort to meet Tigger’s gaze. A crooked smile claimed her lips and she returned her focus to Cara once more. “No, lady, I think I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

Tigger rushed over then, catching Cara by the arm right as she balled her small fists tightly together. “Here now, woman. Go fix us a drink.”

Cara snorted. “Why do I feel like this is déjà vu?”

Tigger scratched his head. He recalled the moment when Sassy Road had marched her cute little ass inside the clubhouse and decided to take up residency in Logan Marc’s bed, a fact that sent Cara spinning at the time even though she and Sassy eventually became friends.

“What can I do you for?” Tigger asked, appreciating the twinkle in the newcomer’s big brown eyes when he made the deliberate slip. Since he took her for the kind of gal who could stand the scrutiny, he allowed himself a quite enjoyable visual tour.

The girl wasn’t modest. That was for damned sure.

Wearing a low-cut, white silk blouse and a sharp business suit designed to hug every curve, the woman gave off an immediate impression. She didn’t belong in their neck of the woods and perhaps had wandered too far from home. In fact, she probably had no idea how far off the tracks she’d tread.

“I’m looking for someone,” the woman said.

“That alone ought to tell you something, Tigger,” Cara called out from behind him.

Tigger tensed. Damn. Sometimes, well not often, but sometimes, he wished Cara would let him have a moment alone. In situations like these, he would’ve enjoyed flirtations. Besides, he needed to test the waters, just to be sure his upcoming proposal to Cara was one he could eventually honor and live by. No other woman had strolled into the clubhouse and immediately gained his nod of approval. He wanted to know if there was more to it than loose interest and a wandering eye.

Releasing a burdened sigh, Tigger glanced over his shoulder. “Not another word, Cara.”

A door slammed behind him. Cara had left the building, or at least the open barroom.

The newcomer snickered. “Is she always this testy?”

“Pretty much,” he replied, his gaze settling on the fullness of perky, young breasts pushed way too high for a casual show. Oh no, this gal wanted everyone to stare.

If he questioned that thought, it was only for a tick. The lady took off her jacket and draped it over her arm, straightening her shoulders in the process.

A low, guttural growl seeped from Tigger’s lips. He eyed those hardened nipples pressing against the young woman’s too-thin blouse and didn’t feel the least bit guilty.

“No wonder your old lady isn’t exactly the picture perfect hostess for the local Welcome Wagon. I bet she has a hard time keeping you in line.”

“She manages,” Tigger grumbled, though he couldn’t find enough enthusiasm to sound convincing.

She moistened her lips and extended her small hand. “I’m Summer Pain.”

“Tigger,” he said, taken aback when she gripped him with a firm handshake. “Just Tigger.”

“It’s nice to make your acquaintance, ‘just’ Tigger.” She batted her eyelashes and looked at the long bar behind them, smiling as if she knew they were under surveillance.

“So who is it you’re looking for?” Tigger asked.

“Damsel Road,” she replied.

“Damsel?” He grunted. “Darlin’, you got the wrong clubhouse.”

“Really?” she drawled, fiddling with the zipper on her handbag. Retrieving an oblong white envelope from her purse’s contents, she studied the scribbled handwriting on the exterior. “I could’ve sworn I had the right place--5555 Beech Creek Road?”

“Damsel was with the Devil’s Angels. They’re located about three miles back down the road.”

“Was?” She thrust her arm forward and showed him her notes. “I was told I could find him here.”

Taking the envelope, Tigger read aloud, “Damsel Road. Club President. Heroes and Rogues. 5555 Beech Creek Road.” Clearly there was a mistake somewhere.

“See?” She looked around. “I guess I’m in the right place after all.”

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