Hunter: MC Romance (Hell Reapers MC Book 1) (21 page)

Jameson got up and clasped hands with me, “Nice of you to finally show up, brother,” he said.

I tilted my head in the direction of Jessica, “Can’t trust that one. Had to make sure she’d behave herself on the way in.”

A chuckle rolled from Jameson’s throat and he stepped over to Jessica.

She gave me that pissed hellcat look from the comment I’d made, but her and Jameson hugged regardless.

“You’re stealing one of my best men,” Jameson told her before everyone found their seats.

Jessica’s dark eyebrows narrowed, “This guy?” She looked to me, “I hope he’s not your best. He’s an asshole.”

Jameson nodded his head, “Ah, yes. Except he’s our
professional
asshole. Always hard at work and exceptionally harder at play,” Jameson brought a hand to his chest, “of course now he seems to want to do more important things with his time. Such as chasing you, my dear.” His smile was bright and infectious. But I knew he was mad about what I’d done.

I could see that Jessica was starting to get a little red in the face, “I’m sorry,” she offered.

“Oh don’t be,” Jameson waved his hand, “just make sure that he is kept in line. That’s all I’m asking.”

I folded my arms over my chest, “Don’t tell her that, James. She’s five feet of fury, and she’ll take the featherweight with the way she beats on me.”

We shared laughs and drinks and conversation, ordering pizza and wings and of course Jessica swore that she had to have a salad, even despite the fact that I suspected they’d made their salads with a pair of oven mitts. Probably sourced their leaves straight from the fake plastic plants out of doctor’s offices or some shit. Still, she had to have it, and she insisted that she would pay her bill separately, no matter how much I tried to strong arm or charm her.

Everything went well and good, and even the ever grumpy Reyes seemed to be in a light hearted mood tonight. Maybe he was finally starting to accept her a little bit; though it did hurt to know that Holly was still sore about it – even though me and her were done, I guess I never really thought on it too much, about how it must slight her for me to talk about Jess.

Over the course of an hour, we’d devoured the food until only a couple of slices of pizza remained; the wings that I’d ordered were nothing more than bone scraps now, and I’d needed another two beers outside of the first couple to even get started with feeling tipsy. This amazed Jessica, but it was a common plight that my two brothers-in-arms and I equally shared. It was even harder getting wasted, which was just one of many reasons why I didn’t do it as much anymore as I once did.

Jessica sipped on her second Long Island, and the girl that was up on stage was reaching the end of her song.
Money
by
Pink Floyd
blasted out through the speakers above, littered across the walls and the posts of the eating hall. She placed a hand on my thigh and my whole body lit up in attention. Even just a small, private touch like that was enough to easily turn me on.

Christ what was this woman. A witch?

Chapter 21

Jessica

The night was going along great and I could feel the liquid courage working it’s magic. I couldn’t believe the iron stomachs these guys had though, it was like they could just eat and eat for days and yet here they were, perfect models of muscle and being fit. How they were able to do it without getting fat was simply beyond me.

I leaned over to Hunter’s side and whispered in his ear, “This shouldn’t come as a surprise,” I started, “but I really want to fuck you.” I rubbed along his thigh, making sure not to get too close to his crotch. “I want to throw you down on the bed and ride you,” just the words leaving my lips was enough to send rivulets of fire through my veins.

Hunter exhaled an unsteady breath and I could see that Reyes and Jameson were glancing our way, “Let’s see how you feel
after
,” he cryptically mentioned.

That was not the answer that I was expecting. The song that the girl on stage was playing came to a close. She was a beautiful little thing, probably only just turned eighteen or nineteen no doubt, her black hair fell past her ass. She thanked the patrons and we gave her a brief round of applause. I had to admit, there were a couple of people up there that actually killed it; and of course, for every one that was good, five were god awful. But hey, I couldn’t rag on them too much – they’d more guts than I did. A small part of me wished that I had the courage to step up there and play something, but a clutch of dread held me tight.

The girl waved one last time and stepped down off of the little stage. Only the guy that was in charge remained, along with his keyboard, electric guitar and computer. He was a short dude, maybe five and three at the max. What little hair he had left was gray and he wore a set of trendy looking glasses, but he had a very friendly smile and aura to him.

If I was going to be drawn up to the slaughter, I’d want it to be done by that guy.

Naturally every god damn muscle in my body tightened up with a frighteningly nervous electricity when I heard
my name
over the speakers.

“Thank you for that, Amy. Seriously thank you. And one of our last acts for tonight, can we get a nice warm round of applause for Jessica number two.” The man’s voice boomed through the speakers as he looked out against the sea of people, hoping to spot this Jessica that he’d never seen. The patrons of the place gave a lighthearted clap.

I immediately shot a look at Hunter. All three of the men were looking at me. “Please,” I said, my guts wanting to fall out of me, “please do not tell me…”

Reyes gave it away the most, with the hard lines of his face forming in such a way that I could just tell he was trying his hardest not to snicker.

Hunter put a hand on my leg, “Baby, don’t hate me—“

“Oh it is
way, way
too late for that,” I said in a high pitched voice, unable to believe what was unfolding before me. “Did you—I mean, s-seriously? N-no. No, nuh-uh. Nope, no way this is gonna—“

The man on stage spoke up again, his voice sounding out my name characteristically and with extra syllables, “Jess-s-sic-a. We’re dying to hear your lovely voice, so if you could please come on-n-n up. Don’t be shy now.”

Hunter got up out of his chair and I swear my heart stopped right there. I pictured it in my head, my gravestone engraved plainly ‘died to embarrassment’. His big and strong hands went right to my waist.

Immediately and without thought I protested with no’s and Hunter’s and I looked over to Jameson and Reyes with puppy dog eyes, hoping to score some kind of sympathy.

Hunter whispered in my ear as he started leading me towards the stage, “I know this is scary babe, I know. I’m gonna do the first one with you, okay?”

“I can’t do this,” I exhaled a sharp breath, trying to get the glass out of my system. It wasn’t working. Every step we took was like trying not to step on a bed of hot coals in a factory that was
designed
to make a ludicrous number—

“Yes you can,” Hunter assured, that soft, beautiful voice chipping away just a small bit of my apprehension.

“No,” I blurted as the guy on stage smiled, “no I don’t think I can.”

The guy on stage said, “There she is!” He waved a hand in my direction, “let’s give our darling dearest another round, yes?”

Everyone applauded and when I looked back I could see Jameson with his goofy smile giving me two big thumbs up. “I hate you all passionately and equally,” I mumbled to Hunter as we ascended the stage.

“And I totally get that,” he said and then gave a short little laugh, “trust me you’re going to blow them all away. You’re going to do three songs.”

“Three?!” I said a little too loudly, getting a funny look from the ringleader of this nightmare.

“Don’t worry,” Hunter put his hands on my shoulders and looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes, “the first one you know, the other two – you can pick whatever you want, pretty much.”

I moved over to the microphone stand, and Hunter sidled over to the medium sized Marshall amplifier. which had a mic resting on top of it. “What song?” I asked him.

Hunter picked up the mic and shot me a playful grin before moving next to me, “Oh you’ll know it when it starts playing.”

The stage lights dimmed and the Ringleader walked passed me. As he did so, he said, “You’ll do fine,” he was clearly picking up on my nerves. “I’m Bob, by the way.”

“Thanks,” I offered, trying to swallow away my nerves. Surprise: that did fracking nothing.

Bob pecked away at the keyboard of his laptop and before I knew it the speakers were playing something. Something very familiar.

I looked over to Hunter and I couldn’t help but smile even against my nerves, exhaling a sharp breath and shaking my head. I brushed at my face, internally fist pumping at the lack of sweat. You can do this, I repeated that like it was a mantra.

Hunter grabbed my hand and cocked his head to the side, a popping noise happening as he did. He looked my way and smiled, assuring me with just his looks that everything would be okay.

I fiddled with the microphone stand, adjusting it as much as I could figure out ‘till I was satisfied. I looked over to the screen and a four beat countdown began, Bob signaling with his fingers just when it was time for us to sing. I tried to block everything out, tried to ignore the veritable sea of faces looking over to me – or most of them were anyway, some of them were eating or talking to others. Still, even the ones that weren’t eying me, it felt like I could feel the pressure of them watching me anyway.

Taking in a large breath, I sung:

“Love is a burnin’ thing.

And it makes a fiery ring.

Bound by wild desire.

I fell into a ring of fire.”

I focused on Hunter’s hand, and looked to his club brothers for reassurance. Some of the nerves floated away, but I still felt caught between heaven and hell. When the chorus rolled around, Hunter’s voice melded with mine – and we came together in a pretty kick ass harmony.

“I fell into a burnin’ ring of fire.

I went down, down, down.

And the flames went higher.

And it burns, burns, burns.

The ring of fire, the ring of fire.”

Closing up the song, I noticed this particular looking fellow way off in the back who had his arms folded over his chest, looking serious. My ‘audience’ went unexpectedly into this crazy, thunderous applause and I couldn’t for the life of me believe how much
noise
they were making. I could hardly hear myself think and if my heart wasn’t pounding so hard in my chest, I wouldn’t have been able to hear it, either.

Hunter quietly and gracefully left the stage, mouthing ‘you got this’ to me before making his way back to his seat.

I spoke briefly with Bob and had him set me up with
Don’t Stop Believin’
by
Journey
. When I was halfway through the song, it was the strangest feeling in the world – to be up on stage and wondering what I’d be making for breakfast in the morning, or if I’d go to Hunter’s for the night, or if I’d have him come to my place. I felt weightless.

When I was singing, I felt free. Alive. This surreal surge of power and joy and this want to weep crashed over me mercilessly.

This was what it was like singing in front of an audience. To be so hideously and yet wonderfully exposed at my core. I’d seriously wanted to punch Hunter, and I still kind of do, but with each line that I sang I realized something.

He was giving me a gift. My eyes crawled along the audience and stopped briefly on that serious looking guy. When I finished the song and was met with that same level of appreciation, I wanted to melt away on that stage; I felt my eyes stinging and I had to look away for a moment and brush at the tears that weren’t quite there.

It was tough to believe. But drunk, sober, maybe they were paid to like me? Whatever. They
liked
me. All those days when I was in school I was always mocked by my girlfriends for my voice. I’d never told anyone that, and it was so long ago. I could still hear them in my head, the way they would snicker and they were so blunt at how bad they thought I was.

I sang
Dream On
by
Aerosmith
for my last song, and though I mostly looked to Hunter, there was something about the mysterious person in the back. He wore a decadent black suit and he had a nice patch of unshaven, blond facial hair. Where his hair should have been, he was bald, save for the sides of his head – they were maybe an inch thick at the most.

I took a final bow and hugged Bob, thanking him way too many times in far too emotional of a tone. He told me that I was truly amazing and hugged me right back.

Getting off of the stage, I walked back to Hunter’s table as Bob called up the next person destined for that yellow microphone – that microphone that I never would have suspected would become such an integral part of my life.

When I went over to Hunter, I hugged him so tight that I was sure I’d be crushing him.