Chapter 5

FIVE

GNAW

Once the contract is signed,I make my way out of the broom closet-sized office and toward the bar. That's when I see her again. She's got her chin tipped down, her teeth sinking into the corner of her bottom lip as she holds the clipboard in one hand and looks down at something.

Stunning.

I walk up to the bar and stop in front of it and place my hand on the warm wooden top. Tapping my index finger a few times, I wait for her to lift her gaze to meet my own. She smiles, her gaze searching mine for a moment.

"Beer?" I ask.

She opens her mouth, but I'm not sure what she's about to say because Sal's voice booms through the empty bar.

"Get a round of beers, sweetheart," Sal calls out.

Her eyes widen, and then she smiles—it consumes her whole face. She wanted to wait for permission from her boss, and I like that. A rule follower. Plus, she's beyond stunning.

No, stunning isn't even a word I could use to describe her. Now that I've seen her up close, I realize she's not as young as I thought she was from afar. She's not old, but she's closer to my age than the twenty-something I thought she was.

I like that, too.

A hell of a lot.

A few moments later, there are three beers sitting on the bar, and she disappears the way a good waitress, bartender, or employee would do. Her boss is here. He's in charge, and she is in the background to be available when needed.

Sal goes on and on about how happy he is and that this is going to be an amazing partnership. I can only smile. He's infectious. This man is, without a doubt, a joy to be around, and a character.

We stay at his bar, all three of us taking a seat on a barstool as he begins to tell us all about his plans. And what plans he has for the future. Atomic mentions a bigger place, and Sal suggests adding on.

"It's not a bad idea," I say. "Everyone already knows where the bar is. There's no reason to move it."

Atomic hums, then he continues, and when he does, I can almost envision everything. As if I'm standing right in front of the building and everything is already done. Or maybe it's just my overactive imagination and the fact that I've been thinking of this expansion for a couple of days now.

"I know the people who own the property behind the bar. That's what we'll do. We'll expand backward. Taking your concept of a gaming room and a strip club, except bigger. Separate entrances are connected by just a singular hallway."

"Two full buildings on each side. But not just a hallway. Vetting at each entrance with bouncers and security," I say. "An upper hallway as well, a pass-through for you and your guys. That way, you can get to where you need to be without going through the crowds, with no restrictions. And you can see everything happening on the floor from up above."

"A boss," Sal rumbles. "Better than I could have imagined. I want this to be like a mini-Vegas," he says.

Atomic chuckles, leaning forward, his gaze never leaving Sal's. "It's going to be better."

And it is.

We have plans for this, and everything the Dark Horse MC dabbles in, we always make it better than the condition we received it in. Like the keg deliveries. When we bought the company, we went to a handful of bars, and now we service every single bar within a forty-mile radius.

The warehouse pickups and deliveries are growing by the day as well, and I have no doubt the crew in Corpus is going to absolutely dominate when they open their strip club, and we are going to do the same here with Sal's club.

I also have a feeling when Sal is ready to retire, we'll be buying the place from him, which means we're not just investing in him and keeping the Southern Mafia out of East Texas. We are also investing in ourselves because that is who the Dark Horse MC truly is to the core.

All of that being said, we are still very much outlaws, rugged, and assholes. That is something that will never change. Not in a million years.

Sal's eyes light up, and he starts to ask some more questions, but my gaze shifts over to the sexiness that is the new waitress at the end of the bar. She's still doing shit with that clipboard of hers, but I'm going to interrupt her.

Slipping off my barstool, I carry my empty beer bottle over to her. Leaning against the side of the bar, I keep my attention focused on her and only her. Slowly, she lifts her head, her eyes finding mine, and my heart fucking stops again.

This woman has me instantly. All she has to do is look at me. "I'm Gnaw."

She frowns, her gaze flicking to my cut, then shifting slowly upward to meet mine again. "What kind of name is Gnaw?" she asks.

Although, she sounds more curious instead of rude about it. If she said those same words in a different tone, I'd probably turn around and walk away. Which I should probably do anyway because I'm sure, without a doubt, she's far too good for me.

I"m silent for a moment as I think about not telling her what my road name means. "It's not my legal name," I half explain. She arches her brow as if she's waiting for me to continue. I think about leaving it at that but decide against it. "It's because my personality is focused. Like a dog with a bone," I state.

"So, it's your nickname, given to you by your group?" she asks, lifting her hand as she extends her index finger and points to the patch on my cut that I know reads in capitalized letters: DARK HORSE MC.

"That's exactly it."

Her tongue sneaks out and slides across her bottom lip. I want that tongue and lip in my mouth.

All the way in.

I want to taste her.

"I'm Kyle," she says, finally introducing herself.

"Kyle?" I ask,

She hums. "I think my dad wanted a boy. My mom didn't want anything. So, he named me Kyle."

My eyes widen at her words, and I can't help but smirk. I don't know why, but that's cute as fuck. Not that her parents are assholes, because I have my own issues with my parents. But her name. Kyle.

Cute as fuck.

"Well, Kyle. I'll see you again soon, yeah?"

She hums, but a shadow crosses her eyes, and she shrugs a shoulder. "Okay."

That part.

I want to know more about that, but not right now.

Soon.

KYLE

Gnaw is fine…with a capital F.

I don't think I can even breathe around him. He's so beautiful. I know I said I would never get involved with another man after Xavier, that I need to heal and all of that… but I think I would have amnesia about my own thoughts given a chance with Gnaw.

What a dumb name, though.

But he's hot enough that he can have a dumb name and work it still. Tall, muscular, in leather jeans made for his body, and boots. Short, neatly clipped hair and scruff. I am completely sold.

And that doesn't even mention the full sleeve of tattoos I spotted on one of his arms, but I think there's more of them. There has to be. I want to find out, and I want to trace them with my tongue.

Every single inch.

He walks away from me, out of the bar with his friend, but I can only stare at his ass as he goes. I should get in my car and drive straight out of here. Because that man is going to be trouble to me, and I have enough trouble with Xavier on my tail.

"Those boys are good boys, but they are not angels," Sal announces.

Turning my head, I look over at him. He's got a beer in his hand and lifts it to his lips, his gaze on mine. I don't ask him what he means because I don't think I need to. I could tell just from one look that Gnaw was no angel. He's the real deal. He's not playing bad boy. He is the bad boy.

"If you need protecting, though, those boys will lay down their lives for their women. Not telling you what to do or how to do it, but know they will fight for their own."

With that, he drains his beer, sets it down on the bar, and stands from his seat. He's telling me something that he thinks I need to hear. And he's right. I do need protecting. I'm just not sure that I can ask anyone to do that for me. But if I could, I think I might be willing to ask Gnaw.

"The bar will be opening soon. You ready?"

"I'm ready," I say, confirming with a single nod.

"Good," he grunts, beginning to walk away from me. "This is going to be a good night, and I think you're going to fit in well here."

"Sal?" I call out.

He stops moving and turns to face me. "Where do the other girls work?" I ask. His brows lift, and he grins, giving me a wink.

"Nothing salacious. Got a little dance club in one of the back rooms. Girls work there, but you don't."

My lips curve up into a small smile. "I don't?" I ask.

He shakes his head slowly. "Can tell just from one look it ain't for you, sweetheart."

I start to open my mouth to ask him why, but he doesn't let me say a single word. Instead, he continues talking.

"Not only is it not for you, but the way that man looked at you, he would have my balls if I even attempted to let you."

Maybe those words should offend me. That sounds controlling… the single word let should send me into a tailspin. I know what it is to be controlled by a man. But when my belly fills with butterflies, I realize I like it when it comes to him.

I'm not even sure why.

I just think Gnaw is cute. I don't even know him. And the last time I picked a man, it ended up being fourteen years of abuse that I can't seem to escape from. But I'm not the sixteen-year-old girl I once was. I've been through hell and back. And Gnaw gives me butterflies.

Real ones.

The look in his eyes isn't bad. Sure, he's a bad boy, but I don't think he's bad.

I want to know what he tastes like. I want to know what every inch of him feels like. I want it all. I can't remember the last time I even had desires, but when I look at him, that's all I feel—raw, uninhibited desires.