I’ve only been here one time. Either I missed the looks of this place in the excitement of getting to Cain all those years ago, or things have really changed. There are people milling around everywhere. Scary-as-all-hell looking people. There is one big building with neon lights flashing. Loud music barrels through the door as people stroll in and out. What is this place?
This is the life Cain has built for himself. My eyes observe it all. I keep my focus on trying to find a place to park and not on the men whose beady eyes I can feel on me as I come to a stop in front of the building, the same one where Cain’s dad’s office used to be.
I don’t know if this is where Cain will be or not, or if there’s another building somewhere. My instincts tell me to stay in my car, turn around, and get the hell out of here, but there’s a magnetic force tugging at me to stay. So I do. I snatch up my purse along with the divorce papers and get out of the car, hitting the key fob to lock it.
As I make my way to the door, I ignore the various cat-calls and name calling coming from these assholes.
“I’ll tap that ass!”
“How much to suck my cock, bitch?”
Feeling more pissed off than scared, I push open the door, my mouth gaping when I step inside the dimly lit room. Oh, my God. This place has turned into a bar? The internet never mentioned that little fact. The guard did say Cain could be at the bar, but it never clicked for me that this is what he meant.
This is nothing like what I remember at all. Pool tables sit side by side in the back. The dance floor lies deserted in front of an empty stage. The loud music is coming from the old-fashioned jukebox up against the wall opposite of me. The bar itself is long, trailing the whole width of the room.
All the men are wearing black leather vests, which are adorned with a motorcycle on the back and the saying ‘Live Fast-Ride Hard’ along with the club name ‘Sinners of Revolution.’ Some of them have arms draped around women who are dressed normally, like me, but a few of the women hardly have clothes on at all. Here and there I see females also wearing the club vest.
My feet stay deeply rooted to this spot. No one is even giving me the time of day; they’re all in a circle in the middle of the room in what seems to be some sort of meeting. I’m observing them all, and whatever the topic is, they clearly don’t like it. The veins in the men’s necks are bulging, and many hands are clenching into fists.
And then I see him, my darling husband, in the center of it all. His arm is dangling around the neck of the slut whose face I will never forget. She’s fucking beautiful. Her long, blonde hair flows in waves around the flawlessly made up porcelain skin of her face. She’s the only one not paying any attention to what Cain is saying. Instead, her head tilts to the side, recognition of who I am written across her face. I watch her intently as she snakes her arm around his waist, showing me she is staking her claim. I lift a brow, grinning back. You don’t have a damn thing to worry about, sweetheart. The cheater is all yours.
I glance back at Cain. The pictures on the internet do him no justice at all; he’s still fucking sexy. If he were a stranger, I believe I would drop my eyes right down to his package and forget my own damn name.
He makes eye contact with each member of the circle as he continues to talk, his voice too low for me to comprehend exactly what he is saying. I take a tiny step forward and the movement attracts his attention.
Suddenly, his gaze snaps to me, his arm dropping from around his slut as his eyes search my face almost as if he is trying to figure out if it is really me. And then his deep blue eyes travel to that magical spot on my neck where he knows I used to love being kissed by him.
A groan threatens to escape me when deeply buried memories resurface of the way his warm mouth would linger there. My nipples harden and my core aches from just this one look, but I refuse to let my own eyes roam his cut physique, afraid they will betray me like my body is doing now.