Chapter 1

Nadia

1

"These aren't your kind of people, Nadia," my dad used to say.

I shouldn't be here.

Yet here I am.

The King I'm wrestling with this stupid thing again!" I call back, trying to fit a new beer keg into the tap dispenser. The nozzle refuses to cooperate, as usual.

"Here, let me help," Francis, my bartending partner, says, taking over.

"Thanks. I'll take care of Paddy, then."

I sprint to the lager taps, grab a couple of glasses, and carefully fill them under Paddy's curious and amused gaze. Despite my outward confidence, I'm still nervous about this place. Sometimes, I worry that if I don't do a good enough job, I'll get canned.

The club's leaders are hard asses.

Devastatingly handsome, all in their late forties, and only getting hotter, but hard asses.

They don't cut anybody any slack, either. If you screw up once, you get warned. Screw up twice, and it's "bye-bye, little birdy."

"How you holding up, kiddo?" Paddy asks with a half-smile.

"Living the dream, Paddy," I reply, grinning. "Living the dream."

I'm fully aware that there are prospects currently ogling my ass from the other side of the bar. It's not my fault. Our bar uniform involves black jeans and white tees—it's supposed to be neat and simple, but my trunk carries some weight, and no matter what I wear, my rear will always steal the show. "And loving it!" I add with a wink.

I give him a full glass of golden lager and add a shot of whiskey on the side. It's Paddy's favorite combination. He winks and downs the whiskey first, then cautiously sips his beer.

"Glad to hear that, honey. When Mike first said you were coming to work here, I thought the old bastard was pullin' my leg," he says.

"Well, he thought I was pulling his leg when I first expressed interest in working here," I reply.

"Yeah, I'll bet. His precious angel, surrounded by all these filthy animals."

"Oh, please, like I'd be intimidated," I laugh.

Paddy's reddish face lights up with a warm smile. "You wouldn't. Your mother was just as fierce and brave. I think that's why Michael loved Cassandra so much. She stood up to him and everybody else. Always."

"You boys were afraid of him?" I ask incredulously.

My father is a stern man, a ruthless negotiator, and one hell of a business fiend to those who stand in his way, but somehow, I still can't imagine him as a badass biker. I've seen the photos from his club days. I've heard the stories. Yet the man I know, the man who raised me, is partial to Armani suits and fine liquor.

He insists that golfing qualifies as a sport.

The man drives a frickin' Volvo because of their safety standards.

"Hey, you'd have been afraid, too, if you'd known that version of him," Paddy says. "Cassandra softened him aplenty. And then you were born, and the man just melted. He was never the same again. I never blamed him for leaving the club. In fact, I supported his decision. Orion's dad, ol' Rufus Williams, had it out for Mike. He wanted to give him a good beating on his way out so the club wouldn't come across as weak."

"Really?"

Paddy chuckles dryly. "Those were the days, honey. We were fearsome."

"You still are," I reply. "I mean, from what Dad says, you guys practically rule Orange County."

"Yeah, but we're getting old. I'm the last dinosaur, you know? The boys, they wanna go legit. I don't mind that, but it involves cutting ties with some people who don't wanna cut said ties." Paddy pauses and takes a deep breath. Behind me, the bartenders buzz around like busy bees, serving drinks and loading the dishwasher with dirty glasses while music blares through the wall-mounted speakers. It's getting louder as more people pour into the bar. "You'll see and understand more soon enough," Paddy adds. "But in the meantime, you keep your nose clean, you hear me, Nadia?"

I can't help but laugh. "I'm just here to work, Paddy."

"Good. You stick to that. Don't let any of these dirty dogs get too close. You're a Kessler, remember that."

How could I forget?

I'm Kessler's pristine princess. His porcelain doll. His never-removed-from-the-box jewel. It's something I've grown severely tired of, though. I'd love to live more, to fall head over heels and experience everything that I've been missing out on.

That's the trouble with stepping out of one's gilded cage and experiencing freedom for the first time—it can be overwhelming.

The doors swing wide open, and some of the fellas whistle and clap as Orion, Kai, and Drake walk into the bar. I freeze by the beer tap, unable to take my eyes off them. Good grief, they're delicious morsels of pure manhood. Denim and leather-clad, broad-shouldered former Navy SEALs with that bad-boy vibe that gets every pair of panties wet in this place.

I hold my breath as our gazes meet for the briefest of seconds.

"Howdy, fellas!" Paddy greets them from the bar.

"Hi," I manage, my voice coming out in a squeak.

They have this effect on me, though I don't know what to call it. A crush on one of them would make sense, but I'm crushing on all three of them—hard.

God help me.

Orion is the club president. He is Italian, dark, and handsome. He has an athletic frame, salt and pepper hair, dark eyes, strong arms, and rippling pecs that struggle against any kind of shirt he wears. I'm told he hits the CrossFit gym three times every week to keep up with the crew—and it shows.

Tonight, he's donning blue jeans and a white tank underneath a black leather vest, his boots thudding heavily across the floor. It's his tattoos that always catch my eye; I try to make out what they are, though I can never stare at him for long enough, not without getting his attention.

Orion's attention is something so intense, so overwhelming, I have to look elsewhere just to catch my breath again.

Kai Medina is the club's vice president. He's also dark and handsome, though taller than Orion. He's built like a boxer, with tanned skin and short, black hair. He's getting a few grey streaks here and there, too, along with fine lines framing the corners of his delicious-looking mouth. His tattoos and battle scars make him look fierce and deadly, but it's his piercing blue eyes that make my heart stop.

Paddy says Kai is not to be messed with. He may come across as calm and calculated, but if anybody rattles him, they will surely suffer the consequences. I guess that's why the prospects are always so skittish around him. He still rips into the kickboxing dojo a few times a week, training with the younger prospects to get them ready for the real world while also keeping himself in tip-top shape.

Drake, on the other hand, seems like the odd guy out, somehow. He's the first lieutenant and in charge of all the club's accounting. He reminds me of the older, surfer dude type, light-hearted in his demeanor yet superhot, with sandy blonde hair and wicked green eyes, a permanent tan, and a warm, charming smile. But he's a Blackthorn Rider, and I need to keep that in mind.

He's just as hard, just as dangerous, and just as intimidating when he has to be.

And my heels are burning for all three.

According to Paddy, they've been best friends since they were kids. They grew up together in the club before they took over their respective roles from their predecessors. Their bond is unbreakable—not only did they grow up together, but they also served in the military together.

They maintain a tight, impenetrable circle.

Everyone in the club knows that they share everything, including their women.

It took me a while to wrap my head around that particular morsel of gossip, but I have to admit I'm curious.

Very curious.

"You okay, honey?" Travis asks me.

"Yeah."

"You blanked out for a second there, and you've got customers," he says.

I look to my left and realize that he's right. "Oh, shoot, I'm sorry," I quip and put on my brightest smile as I start taking orders.

My brain switches back into work mode. Although I'm focused on every task at hand, I still manage to listen, steal glances, and follow the three club leaders as they move around the bar area like panthers on the prowl.

"I'll have two lagers, please," one prospect says. He seems nice. He said the magic word, so I give him a smile to go with his drinks.

"Here you are," I say, sliding the beers over to him.

"Thanks," he replies, tipping me generously.

Paddy corrals Orion, Kai, and Drake away from the crowd and over to their usual booth by the stairs leading to the upper floor. Up there, they have bedrooms, private offices, and a few rooms available to rent for the night.

Some of the club members use those when they're looking to get laid—and they're always looking to get laid. The King & Sword is a magnet for wannabe MC "old ladies" and barflies.

It's a culture of booze, drugs, and indulgent decadence. The complete opposite of what I grew up with, yet fascinating, nonetheless.

Sometimes, when I'm closing the bar for the night, and the music is off, I can hear the guys pounding into one girl or another, even two at a time when they've had enough tequila shots prior. I can hear the moans and the screams of raw pleasure, and I have to admit it turns me on and makes me want to lose control.

"Two shots of whiskey," another prospect says. Another newbie I'm unfamiliar with.

"Sure, which one? We've got single malt, blended—"

"The smokey one, right there," he says, pointing at a specific bottle.

"Good taste," I shoot back with a smile and proceed to pour his two shots.

He chugs them both down in the blink of an eye, then asks for a refill. I take a second to get a better look at this guy. He's young, in his early twenties, with messy brown hair and dull hazel eyes.

The clean-shaven, plaid-wearing type looks like he doesn't really belong here, but he wants to fit in. He needs liquid courage for that, hence the double shot consumption.

"Are you sure?" I ask before pouring him two more.

"Oh, yeah, I need it," he says, then narrows his eyes at me. "I'm Kyle."

"Nadia," I tell Kyle.

"How well do you know them?" he asks, tipping his head toward where Kai, Orion, and Drake sit.

I flash a quick glance at the table and give him a pleasant smile. "I'm just a measly barkeep," I reply. "Anything else?"

"No, that's it, thanks. Unless you wanna give me your number?" Kyle says, the corner of his mouth ticking nervously.

"I'm sorry, I don't date customers," I shoot back and gladly move on to serving a young couple.

I can still feel Kyle's eyes on me, however. They are persistent and kind of creepy—the kind of persistent that makes my skin crawl. But I stay focused on my work, talking and laughing with Travis and the other guys at the bar. I do everything I can not to look at Kyle until finally, he moves away to a different corner of the venue.

It's a busy night, and then some.

I'm counting ten new prospects milling about with the club members present. There are plenty of locals, too—working men and girls in skimpy outfits and wearing too much makeup. I could drown in the smell of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke wafting in from outside. At least the music is good.

"Gimme a shot of tequila," a woman's nasal voice cuts through my thoughts.

I stop in my tracks and turn to find her practically holding on to the bar counter for leverage. Carla. I don't like her. A former prostitute, according to Paddy, moved to our neck of the woods after a few months spent in prison in Northern California. She works as a stripper now, and she comes down here almost every evening before her shift starts.

"What is she doing here?" Travis mutters as he passes by me.

"Damned if I know," I whisper, then put on a fake pleasant smile and serve her with a shot of tequila.

Carla gives me a sour look, pointing a thumb over her bony shoulder. Tonight, she's wearing fuchsia sequins, showing too much skin, and wearing too much makeup, as usual. Her hoop earrings hang heavily from her ears, and her hands jingle with an abundance of cheap rings. "Put it on Orion's tab," she says.

"I can't do that without his permission," I politely reply.

"You're not a newbie here anymore, sweetie. You know who I am," Carla says, determined to seem offended. All I can do is smile again.

"I'm sorry, but unless the president confirms this, I have to charge you."

"Bitch," she mumbles as she takes out a ten-dollar bill, practically throwing it in my face. "Keep the change."

I want to tell her off, but I keep my plastic smile on until she leaves. I watch her as she saunters over to the corner booth—to my secret delight, none of the guys seem pleased to see her. Kai actually rolls his eyes. At least I'm not the only one who can't stand her, though I do know the guys occasionally shared her in the past. Maybe it's why she keeps coming around, why she keeps trying to get their attention.

At least I'm not the only one who can't stand her, though I do know the guys occasionally shared her in the past. Maybe it's why she keeps coming around, why she keeps trying to get their attention.

"There's nothing a man dislikes more than the reek of desperation," Travis says.

He's watching the scene while standing beside me. "It's her body, her dignity, I guess," I tell him.

"What dignity?"

Later, after the prospects are introduced and challenged to a slew of drinking games, the crowd begins to thin. It's almost midnight, and half of the contenders have been sent home, barely able to stand.

"If you can't hold your liquor, you can't be a Blackthorn Rider," Paddy tells me.

He's back at the bar, having left Orion, Kai, and Drake in their booth to discuss more private and personal issues. Unlike other old-timers, Paddy has the utmost respect for the club's leadership. He still has about ten years on them, but he was one of the first to endorse them. Orion has been president for almost ten years now, and Paddy has repeatedly expressed his admiration for how the guys are running the joint.

"So, that leaves us with what, six prospects?" I ask, analyzing them on an individual basis.

Two of them look like they're about to pass out. Three have gone upstairs, each in the company of a buxom lady of the night, eager to get their rocks off. The last ones standing are gathered around the pool table, struggling to win a bet. They're loud and full of laughter.

"Yeah, six, but we'll see how many of them are left standing in the morning. That's the point of tonight's test," Paddy says. "Making it through an entire night of drinking and screwing, and then getting on a bike tomorrow without getting themselves killed."

"Quite the initiation," I mumble.

"The life of a Blackthorn Rider is anything but easy," Paddy says. "Our riders have to be resilient and thick-skinned. If trouble pops up, we've all gotta be ready to answer the call." He pauses when he sees Carla swaying her hips toward Orion's booth again. "Oh, for fuck's sake, she can't take a hint, apparently."

"It's a tad pathetic," I reply with a casual shrug.

"It's like she never learns," Paddy sighs. "I've warned her not to push them. But I'll give the guys credit—whatever they do to these girls, it's like crack. They're always coming back for more."

Yeah, I'm curious about that, too, I think.

I've had my share of daydreaming where those three are concerned. I blame it on being twenty-two and still a virgin. Of course, no one here knows this. I'd die of shame if anyone learned about my lack of experience in the bedroom.

I'm the only one in my circle still holding on to my so-called purity. So-called because, out of all my friends, I have the dirtiest mind, hands down. It has to be the dirtiest because what other kind of mind conjures up such depraved scenarios?

Scenarios where I'm rammed and pounded hard by Orion, Kai, and Drake at the same time. I have my hair pulled, my ass slapped, my breasts squeezed and pinched as they viciously claim me, as they make me scream for more.

Yeah, my imagination doesn't hold back.

I've pleasured myself more than once thinking about them. When reality gets a little too dull, my mind picks up the slack and runs wild. They're the stars of my most scandalous fantasies, the kind that would make a seasoned erotic novelist blush.

Just as Carla is about to land at their table, creepy Kyle walks back to the bar with a dark look in his eyes. "Another whiskey," he says in a commanding tone.

Paddy is nowhere to be found. I didn't even notice him slip away, but I feel vulnerable all of a sudden. Nevertheless, I straighten my back and pour Kyle his drink. "Here you go."

"Thanks," he says and grabs my hand just as I'm about to take his money.

"Whoa!" I gasp as he yanks me by the wrist and climbs halfway over the bar to pull me in for a kiss. "Hey!" I shout and manage to free myself from his grip.

"Come on, you want it, I can tell," Kyle manages, slurring his words.

"I certainly do not want it. Now get the fuck off me!" I snap.

People are starting to notice and Kyle clearly isn't smart enough to know when to stop as he's about to come over the bar to try again.

"Hey, dude, cut it out." Travis tries to get in his way, but Kyle is stronger.

Not strong enough for what's about to happen, though.

Orion jumps over the bar—I didn't even see him coming—but he now stands between Kyle and me. A hulk of a man, dark and menacing, as Kyle hits the brakes hard, the color instantly draining from his face.

"I believe the lady said no," Orion's voice thunders throughout The King & Sword, and the bar noise goes quiet.

Everything has come to a sudden halt. Kai and Drake sit comfortably in their booth, but their gaze is locked on us. The air thickens with a deadly threat as they await Kyle's reaction.

In the meantime, all I can do is stare at Orion's massive back, unable to move or say a thing. I can hear Kyle's ragged breathing, his whimpering voice as he takes a couple of steps back.

"I'm sorry, Orion, I didn't know she was taken," he manages.

"It's not a question of whether Nadia is taken or not. It's a question of consent and whether she gave it to you," Orion replies bluntly. "It's painfully clear to everyone in this room that she didn't give you her consent, so why the fuck do you think it's okay for you to just walk into my bar and behave like an animal?"

"I'm sorry."

"Not enough. Get the fuck out of here. And leave your prospect patch at the door. You're done," Orion shoots back.

Kyle stares at him in sheer disbelief. He's been trying so hard to get in their good graces. Drinking and pitching his future role as a club member. I doubt he has much else going on in his life otherwise he wouldn't be in here acting like a mongrel.

My pulse is racing, but I keep my chin up and watch as Kyle nods slowly and walks away. He does as Orion commands, taking the patch off his vest and leaving it on a table on his way out.

As soon as the doors close behind him, it's like the planet has begun spinning again.

The music kicks back on, people return to talking, laughing, and drinking, and Travis and the others dive back into work.

I exhale sharply as Orion turns around and locks eyes with me.

"Are you all right?" he asks, his voice low and remarkably calm. It sends the sweetest kind of shivers down my spine.

"Yes, thank you," I reply, managing a smile.

"You're off-limits, Nadia," Orion replies. "The prospects will be warned from now on."

His words are a mix of command and protection, making my heart flutter. "I appreciate that," I say, still feeling the adrenaline ebbing away.

Orion nods, his intense gaze lingering on me for a moment longer. "Just doing what's necessary," he says, then turns to rejoin Kai and Drake.

I can only nod once and stare as he walks away. Oddly, the farther he gets, the colder I feel. His body heat from a short distance was enough to make me boil on the inside. I can only imagine the effect he'd have on me if he were closer if he touched me.

I shake the thoughts away and try to go back to work, but I keep stealing glances, trying to figure out what Orion meant when he said I was off-limits.

Did he mean off-limits to just the prospects or to everyone, including himself? I'm guessing the latter. These guys have the utmost respect for my father, and I know he'd burn everything in his path if anybody besmirched his precious daughter.

Not long after the incident with Kyle, Paddy heads upstairs to get busy with one of his regular girlfriends. Unlike most veteran club members, he's still single and loving every second of it. Travis said that Paddy was in love once a long time ago, but that the girl married another guy.

Orion, Kai, and Drake also withdraw upstairs with what's left of their whiskey, and I can't help but look around, wondering where Carla is. I spot her lingering by the jukebox, pretending to go over the song list, yet I can see she's got one eye on them.

"Give her a second," Travis mutters while we're both wiping glasses with dry clothes. "She's gonna go after them."

"Oh," I reply, feeling my shoulders drop.

"But they're gonna send her away," he says. "They always send her away."

"Why? I thought they had something going."

Travis shrugs. "At one point. But it's been over for a while," he pauses and frowns, trying to remember something.

"I wonder why."

"It's got something to do with your dad, I'm sure. They're probably trying to seem more respectable," Travis chuckles dryly. "Men in their forties are still fooling around like that, I guess it's not a reputable look. They're probably trying to make a good impression or whatever."

It doesn't make much sense, though I wouldn't dismiss the theory altogether. I've seen how fondly they speak of my dad, of the olden days. Even though it's been two decades since my father left, Paddy is particularly respectful and protective of me, and the club's leadership seems to have emulated that behavior perfectly.

Tonight's tense moment with Kyle only serves to amplify that belief. I'm off-limits because of my dad.

"There she goes," Travis says. We both watch as Carla hastily slithers up the stairs, her six-inch stilettos clicking nervously with each rushed step.

"Told ya."

Minutes pass in heavy tension as I try to keep myself busy, but I don't like the idea of her being up there, trying to get into their pants again.

Finally, my filthy curiosity gets the better of me, and I excuse myself, telling Travis that I need to hit the ladies' room.

As soon as I reach the top floor, I sense a change in the atmosphere. My heart's racing as I cautiously approach the second door to my left, their private office. I can hear all three of their voices inside, but I also hear Carla giggling. I can't make out what's being said, but the guys don't sound too pleased.

"Shit," I hiss as another door opens ahead on the right side of this narrow, dimly lit corridor.

Carla stumbles backward, damn near knocking me over. "I'm so sorry," I blurt out, reaching out to help her, but she instantly pushes me away.

"Get the fuck off me!" she snarls.

Kai is about to step out of the office, but Orion stops him. Behind them, Drake is also curiously watching the entire scene unfold in its awkwardness. I'm like a deer caught in the headlights, trying to figure out where I am and what I'm supposed to be doing.

"What are you doing up here?" Orion asks.

"Sorry, I got lost," is all I can say before I bolt back downstairs, my heart thudding like crazy. I hesitate at the bottom of the stairs.

You know damn well that they can smell the bull-shit, I scold myself.