walked in the door, I somewhat expected everyone to turn and stare at us—confirmation of the true outsiders we were. But no one really looked our way, and if they did, we were greeted with a nod of acknowledgment. Across the room, a house band had music pumping out of the speakers, and couples danced on a makeshift dance floor. Others hung around the bar, sipping on beers and mixed drinks.
Gavin started to take a step forward, but I froze. Each time my gaze fell on a biker, he became my father’s murderer standing in front of me. My heartbeat accelerated wildly in my chest, and I fought to breathe. Ducking my head, I pinched my eyes shut and started counting to ten in my mind.
“Sam, are you okay?” Gavin whispered in my ear. The fact that he called me by my first name meant he was truly worried.
“Bathroom. I need a bathroom,” I gasped. When he started to lead me across the room, I jerked back and shook my head. “No. I do this on my own. You go on. I’ll catch up to you.”
Gavin’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Just give me ten to get my shit together.”
He looked as though he wanted to argue with me, so I pulled away from him and started across the floor. At the food table, I spotted the vice president’s wife, Alexandra, bouncing a dark-haired baby boy on her hip. I knew all about her from the files I had read, and just like with the president’s wife, I had been surprised that someone like her, a teacher from a respected, middle-class family, would have taken up with a biker.
“Excuse me. Where’s the bathroom?” I asked.
When her dark eyes met mine, a look of confusion came over her face, which wasn’t too surprising. I was sure she knew all the old ladies, girlfriends, and sweet butts of the club. The expression was quickly replaced by a smile. “Just down the hall from the kitchen,” she replied, motioning to the right.
“Thank you.” Without a word to her or the other women, I made a beeline down the hall. I burst through the door that signified it was for women by a pair of giant carved boobs on it. It was packed full of scantily dressed women fighting for mirror time as they worked on their hair and makeup. I bypassed them and went into one of the stalls.
Once I was safely closed inside, I placed my palms flat against the graffiti-colored walls. I tucked my head to my chest and once again began taking deep, cleansing breaths in and out. In my head, I kept repeating the mantra I had adopted many years ago. I am stronger than my fear. I am stronger than my fear. I am stronger than my fear.
After what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, the overwhelming panic began to dissipate. I started slowly feeling like myself again—my strong, courageous kick-ass self. Pulling my head up, I rolled my shoulders to ease the tension the anxiety had brought on.
With my courage renewed, I focused on the task ahead of me. Throwing open the stall door, I made my way out of the bathroom. After entering the main room, I didn’t even falter when a hulking biker with gleaming silver piercings and arms covered in multicolored tattoos bumped into me. “Sorry, sugar,” he drawled.
I gave him my best smile before craning my neck to search for Gavin. I found him sitting alone at a table, nursing a beer. When I started to get near the table, he jerked his gaze to mine as if he had sensed me approaching.
After I took a seat next to him, he asked, “You okay?”
“Never better.” Knocking his hand away, I took his beer and downed the rest in one foamy gulp. When Gavin’s eyebrows shot up questioningly, I shook my head. “Look, it was exactly as I said. I just needed a minute to get my shit together. You have nothing to worry about.”
He grinned at my forceful tone. “Never said I was worried.”
“You didn’t have to. I could tell by your face and the fact that you called me Sam.”
Gavin took his beer back from me. “Ready?”
“More than ready. What happened while I was gone?”
“Bishop got me a beer on the house and told me to have a seat. I thought he was coming over to talk, but then he got called away.”
My eyes narrowed in suspicion.