Free Assassin's Baby (A Bad Boy Romance) by Amber Branley Page B

Alexandra thought the night sky was beautiful. Around the warehouse there were some old rustic looking cabins. It was quite the compound, and she wondered how the men had afforded it – but being bikers and dealing in turn with illegal things, she supposed they were all pretty well off.
    Later in the night the men drank and smoked and Alexandra joined in on the fun, but watched her intake. She didn’t want to be out of her head, or anything, because bad things were on the horizon, and guaranteed to happen.
    It could be a minute from then, the next day, or the day after. She knew it was coming, and judging by the pistols clamped to the biker’s sides and the rifles slung over the bar, so did they. She hung onto Miles as they made their way through the clubhouse and watched the joy spreading across his face.
    He looked at home here. She’d love him for the quiet and confident bad boy he was, but now he seemed to be coming out of a shell around his own people. He looked like he belonged in this place. She’d never been around people of these sorts; good hearted criminals who happened to be filthy rich, and she’d have never guessed that they were rich to begin with. Based on the way they dressed, they all looked like they’d just rolled out of bed and thrown on twenty year old leather attire to cover their greasy, inked up bodies.
    “Girl, you got yourself into a mess, don’t you?” A grizzled older member pulled Alexandra aside with a gentle hand. He raised his glass to toast and they clinked theirs together, “But don’t you worry, hear me? Because we’re the baddest fuckers on this side of the state line. We’ve got contacts down in Mexico, we’ve got ‘em up in Northern Oregon, and we’ve got plans to relocate far up the coast if need be. We can be out of the state in a day, and we’ve got the firepower and ammunition to last us.”
    He was drunk, and slurring. But despite that, he appeared able to hold his alcohol. He looked like he’d been through hell and back. He was an old-time biker. Grizzled, graying, wrinkled skin that had been burned one too many times by the sun. It looked like a worn out baseball glove. Patches of age spots lined his forehead and his cheeks were covered by a fraying, frizzy beard.
    Miles nudged the man and began to laugh, “You scaring my woman, Pony?”
    “More like reassuring your woman, young man.”
    “Well tell me you at least properly introduced yourself.”
    “You know I ain’t good at introductions.”
    “Well let me assist you with that,” Miles chuckled, motioning to Alexandra, “Honey, this is Pony. He’s the oldest member of the club. Before we were born he was a member with his daddy, and his daddy before him. When shit hit the fan numerous times over the years, Pony always stuck with the club. He never backed out. He wasn’t a quitter, like myself and many others.”
    “But now you’re back, son,” Pony said.
    “Now I’m back, it seems.”
    “Nice to meet you,” Alexandra said. They shook hands and Miles pulled her away.
    They walked around the large club house and Miles introduced her properly to others. Alexandra heard conversations of crime and murders, but none of the men talked about them like they enjoyed it.
    “You son of a bitch, what the hell have you been up to?”
    “A little of this, a little of that. I’m making a living.”
    “An honest living?”
    “Honest as a lawyer, at least.”
    “Well I’ll be damned. Ol’ Miles here has got himself a job.”
    “I work for myself.”
    It was a conversation strewn with anxiety; filled with tension. It was between Miles and a younger man who Miles had briefly introduced to Alexandra as Joe Glass. Joe Glass seemed to be a real asshole, based on the way the crowd had quieted down and was watching the two of them duke it out verbally.
    “Oh,” Joe said, “You work for yourself. Doing what? Shining shoes?” He broke out into laughter and spilled some of his drink. As he lit a cigarette,