Home > Imperfectly (Dante's Nine MC #2)(5)

Imperfectly (Dante's Nine MC #2)(5)
Author: Colleen Masters

“So you’ll come? I could really use my best friend right now,” Kassie says.

“My only question is, do you mind if I jump in my car and come immediately?” I ask.

“Do it!” she laughs, “Get that cute little ass over here this minute, Kelly Rodgers!”

“Oh, it’s so on,” I say, wrenching open my car door and hopping inside. “This is going to be epic, Kassie.”

“Floor it, baby!” she cries, “I’ll see you soon!”

We hang up as I roar out of the restaurant parking lot en route to my spare LA apartment. A wide grin is stretched across my lips, my heart races with gleeful anticipation. I know full well how impulsive it is, picking up and heading to Vegas on a seeming whim. But there’s nothing holding me here, now that Bryan has shown his true colors once and for all. All my work is freelance, my apartment is rented month-to-month. And when I’m honest with myself, I just wish I’d never left Vegas last year. There’s something about that place that intrigues me, something sexy and dangerous. Something I want to know more about.

I load up my car with all the clothes and things I care to grab, amazed by how light I feel. Crazy or no, this is the right decision. I take one last look around my impersonal apartment. I’ve been working so hard and spending so much time at Bryan’s cushy pad that I’ve barely even slept here. Maybe my cushy new pad in Vegas will feel more like home.

Feeling like a pioneer in a covered wagon, I peel off into the night. It’s going to be a long ride to Vegas, but I can’t wait another moment. Bryan’s failed proposal already seems like it happened in another life, to another woman. I’m only looking forward, now, ready for whatever lies in store for me. I’m not religious, but I believe in good vibes. And right now my heart is full to the brim with hope and excitement. For the first time since leaving Las Vegas last year, I can’t wait to see what the next day holds.

“Brace yourself, Sin City,” I mutter, racing along toward the California border, “Kelly Rodgers is coming for you.”

Chapter Two

Las Vegas, NV

I have not led what most would consider a tame life. As a kid, I was more or less left to my own devices. My single mother, god bless her, had too much on her plate to keep a close watch on me and my two older sisters, Abby and Britt. My sisters all but raised me, bringing me along to parties or bringing the parties home to me. I got crash courses in sex, booze, and drugs long before any of my classmates in school. I’ve been partying hard my whole life, and haven’t always run with the best of crowds.

Not even Kassie knows the extent to which I already know a thing or two about the MC life. There was a club that operated in our hometown in Southern California, and our very own cousin Matthew became a prospect for a local chapter of a club called The Devil’s Wraiths when I was still in high school. I was fascinated by the stories he would tell us about club life, and was thrilled every time another brother would show up at one of our house parties. Even their sigil fascinated me: a swirling, demon-like figure, holding out a bony, beckoning hand. I always felt, in some way, that that hand was stretched out to me.

The truth is, I’ve been fascinated by the MC life for a long time. I may have even messed around with a couple of Matthew’s brothers, back in the day. There was actually a time in my life, during my junior year of high school, when I considered running away and throwing myself at the MC life. I was totally overwhelmed by the prospect of trying to get into a good college, and not at all convinced that I was strong enough to rise above my less-than-impressive situation. I even talked to Matthew back then about becoming a house mouse—sort of a Girl Friday to one of the club members’ old ladies. But just as I was about to take the plunge, I got my acceptance letter from my dream school. I took a leap of faith in an entirely different direction and decided, for once, to have faith in myself.

I discovered, during undergrad, that I was actually smarter than I’d been led to believe. My street smarts and books smarts put me in good standing to not only succeed academically, but also navigate the murky social waters of college with ease. I knew what I wanted from my friends and lovers, and didn’t take any shit on either front. Sure, this made me sort of an outsider, and caused more than one person to consider me a bitch, but what did I care? I was kicking ass, setting myself up to get into a great grad school and even better career.

But for all that, part of me still wondered what would have happened if I’d taken the other path. The MC path. I was always too nervous to tell anyone about that part of my past. I’d chosen to reinvent myself in college as cool, whip-smart, and mature. What would people think of me if they knew that I was really a white trash would-be biker groupie? I couldn’t even come clean to Kassie, when we started getting close.

All thoughts of my conflicted past dissipate as the horizon starts to glow with the bright lights of Vegas. I’ve been driving like a maniac, flying well over the speed limit. But I can’t bring myself to care about that, now. The beacon of Sin City gleams like a light house before me, and I’m sailing this ship full steam ahead. I just have to hope that the seductive draw of this place isn’t just a siren song, that I’m not about to dash myself against the rocks. But with nothing to return to, now that Bryan’s scattered my life in LA, what have I got to lose?

Las Vegas swallows me up the second I roar past that famous sign. It’s early morning, now. I’ve been driving all night. I can barely keep my eyes on the road as the strip rises up all around me. The neon and glitter, bare skin and outrageous glamor, are unlike anything else in the world. You’d think that this is the last place I’d ever want to venture again, after what happened to me and Kassie. But that little taste of danger has awakened something within me, that curiosity I had as a lost teenager. I just have to be careful not to let it take control.

I find Kassie’s building and am overjoyed to find Franklin, the steel-nerved doorman, waiting by the curb. Despite the early hour, he looks chipper as ever.

“Ms. Bennett said you’d be joining us for a spell!” he crows, as I step out of my car, “We’ll have a valet park this for you, never fear. I’m sure they’re waiting for you upstairs.”

“Thank you kindly,” I say, throwing my arms around the aged protector. Propriety be damned, I’m happy to see this guy.

   
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