CORA

“Where’s Stella?” a man asks. I recognize him instantly as the dude that had been banging her in the boss’s office a few days ago.

“She didn’t show up today,” I inform him, popping the caps off of three beer bottles and placing them on the waitress’s tray. “Again.”

The man frowns. “I was with her last night.”

“Don’t know what to tell ya. Stella hasn’t been here for two weeks, and she’s already missed three shifts. She’s not exactly reliable, if ya know what I mean.”

The biker ponders that a moment, his brow still creased, but I don’t have time to sit around and discuss the many reasons he should steer clear of Stella. Because she didn’t show up, I haven’t had a moment to breathe all night.

Looking at the clock, I sigh. It’s barely eleven, which means the bar is open for another three hours, and I still have to clean up after that. I just want to go home, crawl into bed, and forget today even happened.

But I’ll never forget today.

The memory of TK on his knees before me, his eyes on mine as he drew my nipple into his mouth, flashes through my mind. The way his hand had wrapped around my throat, both gentle and firm, claiming me in a way that no man has ever done, nor likely ever will again.

“Miss!”

I shake my head and focus, surprised I hadn’t seen the middle-aged man standing right in front of me, clearly waiting for an answer to a question I hadn’t heard him ask.

“I’m sorry. What was that?”

Holding up two fingers, he says, “Two Buds,” and then returns to the conversation he’d been having with a tattooed woman with impressively high hair.

I grab the beers, pop the caps, and place them in front of him. Setting down a twenty-dollar bill, he saunters off.

Placing the money in the cash register, I make the change and drop that into my tip jar.

“Cora.”

I turn at the sound of my name, half hoping to find TK, but instead it’s Big Dick standing there. I swear, I’ve never been more thankful for the chest-high bar.

“I have nothing to say to you.” I move to serve the next customer.

Moving down to serve the next customer, he opens his mouth to order, but Big Dick steps in and grabs him by the collar, pulling him close. I can’t hear what he says, but I watch the man’s face visibly pale as he bobs his head, agreeing with whatever he’s being told.

As soon as Big Dick releases him, the man quickly disappears into the crowd.

“We need to talk,” he says, placing both hands on the bar.

“I’m working.”

“After work then,” he insists.

“I can’t.”

Big Dicks chuffs out a humorless laugh and glares at another patron that attempts to approach. The man slinks away, apparently deciding he’s not so thirsty after all.

“You owe me, Cora.”

That does it for me. At that moment, I know exactly what people mean when they say they see red. How dare this motherfucker come into my town and my bar and tell me that I owe him a damn thing, especially after what he did to me.

I lean in close so I don’t have to yell to be heard. “I don’t owe you shit.”

Nostrils flaring, his eyes flash with rage.

Just then, TK and Priest take up positions on either side, clamping their hands down on his shoulders and boxing him in against the bar top. I nearly sigh loudly in relief.

“Hey, fuckface,” TK says in a cheerful tone. “I tried to talk to you yesterday, but you took off.”

Big Dick jerks forward, his arms coming up as he tries to shake them off, but neither TK nor Priest release him.

“You were following Cora,” Priest reminds him, “and now you’re bugging her at work. We don’t like that.”

Big Dick turns and glares at Priest. “I don’t care what you like. Now get your fucking hands off of me, or I’ll have you dead before the sun comes up.”

TK looks over at me and grins. “Oh, he’s feisty. We like feisty.”

“You boys have no idea who you’re messing with.”

“Sure we do. Your name’s right there.” TK pokes a finger into the patch on his cut. “Big Dick. So do they call you that because you have a big dick, or because you are a big dick?”

A vein throbs in Big Dick’s temple, but both men are holding his arms down at his sides. He’s not moving.

“I’m the fucking president of the Screwballs MC, assholes,” he growls.

Looking over at Priest, TK’s brows shoot up in mock surprise. “Oh, a president. Did you know this guy was a president?”

Priest’s face stays stoic. “I did not.”

TK yanks Big Dick toward him, placing his mouth near his ear, but I can still hear him when he says, “Well, Mr. President, since you’re so important, we’ll escort you outside instead of tossing you out on your ass.”

It takes the two of them to pull Big Dick away from the bar, because he doesn’t go quietly. The guys don’t seem to be breaking a sweat, though. TK and Priest never waver, though. I can’t tell you how much amusement I’m getting as they escort him out.

For just a second, I wonder what kind of trouble this will cause for the Black Hoods. But seeing as TK and Priest don’t seem too worried, I won’t worry, either.

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I blow it out slowly through my mouth.

Even after running out on him, he had shown up for me.

He’s more than I thought he was. God, he’s so much more.

And he’s leaving in a couple of days.