Free Los Perdidos: The Novel (Sons of Glory Motorcycle Club Romance) by Daphne Loveling Page B

that’s Snake.” A huge guy who looked to be in his late twenties to early thirties, built of solid muscle. A bottle-blond woman with huge tits was wrapped around him like a serpent. She looked at me with open suspicion verging on hostility. Rosie ignored her.
    We continued over to a bank of booths, where a small group of women sat together, all dressed in various types of denim and leather. “This over here is Roxy,” she said, leading me to a middle-aged woman with lustrous brown hair, whom I remembered meeting the first night with Smoke. The woman had a half-full glass of amber liquid – whiskey, I assumed -- in front of her, and she sat in one of the booths with a couple of younger women. “She’s Ram’s old lady.”
    “But Ram’s your dad, right?” I asked, frowning. “So this is…”
    “My mom. Yeah,” she said with a grin. “This here’s Flame,” she said to the older woman.
    “We’ve met,” Roxy said drily. “You here just for the evening, or you plan to be a permanent fixture around here?”
    I didn’t know how to answer. “Not just for the evening,” I said evenly. “We’ll see about the rest.”
    Roxy nodded once, and then turned back to her girlfriends. “Come on,” Rosie said. “I need another drink.” She led me back to the bar and flagged down the bartender for a beer. “So, how’s it going with Smoke?” she asked. Her tone turned girlish as she said this, and the exchange was so close to one I might have had with Dana or Kara that I almost laughed. “It’s going good, I think,” I replied, giving her a grin. “I really like him.”
    “What’s he like in bed?” she asked frankly, a wicked gleam in her eye.
    “Uh…” I blushed. Part of me shied away from talking about Smoke with a near stranger, but her friendliness broke down my defenses a little. Leaning in toward her, I said conspiratorially: “Un-freaking-believable!”
    Rosie’s jaw dropped, and then her face spread into a huge grin. She whooped with laughter: “Jesus Christ, I knew it! That man is sex on wheels! You lucky bitch!”
    “I know!” I grinned back. And as I said it, I realized it was true. Despite the fact that my best friends were worried sick about me, I did feel lucky. I liked how I felt when I was around Smoke. I felt stronger, more assertive. More alive. I felt less like boring, mousy old Jen, and more like Flame.
    I opened my mouth to say more, but as I did, I watched as Rosie’s eyes fixed on a point behind me and widened in shock. “Oh, shit!” she hissed. “This is not good.”
    I turned in the direction of her gaze, and saw that a tall, bottle-blond bombshell had walked into the bar. She was dressed in tight leather pants and a cut off T-shirt that left almost nothing to the imagination. The way she sauntered up to the bar, it was clear that she’d been here before, but her defiant expression showed that she was expecting some trouble.
    “Who’s that?” I asked Rosie.
    “That’s Liana,” she murmured back. “Smoke’s ex.”

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    Liana noticed Rosie and me staring at her, and sauntered over to us, a glass of something clear in her hand. “Hey, Rosie,” she said, looking at me with a disdainful expression. “Who’s this?”
    “I’m Flame,” I said evenly, meeting her gaze.
    “She’s with Smoke,” Rosie said, her tone challenging.
    “Is she, now?” Liana scoffed. “I doubt that will last for long.” The blond looked me up and down. “Smoke likes his women to be built like women – not little girls.” She stared pointedly at my breasts and sneered, then turned away from me dismissively. I felt a wave of heat redden my cheeks. It was true that next to her exaggerated curves, I felt like a little girl, but I refused to let her see this. I did my best to keep my face completely devoid of expression.
    “What are you doin’ here, Liana?” Rosie asked coldly.
    “I came to talk to Smoke.” She turned to me and said pointedly: “He left some