Ride And Obey MC

Twenty-Three

Danielle POV

The ride to the club is fast, quick enough that the wind never even has a chance to settle. Knox rides like he does everything else, confident, reckless, and in full control. I cling to him, my chest pressed to his back, my fingers hooked into the bottom of his cut. I can feel the tension in his body the whole way, like if we were anywhere else, he’d already have me bent over something and forgetting how to speak.

When the gates open and the bike rolls through, the compound looks a little different than the night before. There’s more light spilling from the clubhouse windows, more movement, more noise. The lot’s got half a dozen bikes lined up already, and the low beat of music drifts out as Knox parks near the front.

The moment we stop, Knox kills the engine and swings his leg off. Before I can move, his hands are already at my hips again, lifting me off the bike like he can’t help himself. He pulls off the helmet, then he sets me down, fingers sliding down the backs of my thighs with a firm squeeze before he steps back and smirks.

“Behave, Red.”

I roll my eyes at him, but the flush creeping into my cheeks betrays me.

Then I hear it.

“Holy s**t! You actually came back!” Hex’s voice cuts across the lot before she appears, a flash of black hair and boots moving fast. She doesn’t slow down. She barrels straight into me and throws her arms around my shoulders like we’ve known each other forever.

Before I can say a word, Knox releases me with a crooked grin. “You’re being stolen.”

“Damn right she is,” Hex says, dragging me toward the clubhouse doors. “I got plans for her tonight.”

I glance over my shoulder at Knox, who just shakes his head and mouths good luck before disappearing into the building.

Hex pulls me past the main bar and around the back, where the staff room sits behind a swinging door. The music dulls slightly as we step inside, and the smell of whiskey and lemon cleaner fills the space. She grabs a vest from a hook on the wall and tosses it at me.

“You’re behind the bar tonight.”

I blink. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me. Ladies are serving tonight. You said you wanted a reason to get out, right? Welcome to the kind of therapy that pays in beer and confidence.”

I laugh, slipping the vest on over my dress. “You’re insane.”

“Probably, but that’s not the point. Come on.” She walks me over to the bar setup and starts pointing out things fast, like she’s done this a thousand times. “Vodka’s here, bourbon’s there, taps are already primed. Use the tall glasses for the hard stuff, short for shots. If they don’t know what they want, they’re probably too drunk to have another. Don’t be afraid to cut them off.”

I nod, trying to keep up.

“But the most important rule?” She turns to face me fully, suddenly serious. “If they don’t say please or thank you, you throw water in their face and slap the s**t out of them.”

I choke on a laugh. “Hex, are you kidding me?”

She raises a brow and leans in like she’s about to share some sacred truth. “I’m dead serious. No manners? No drink. And I guarantee at least three assholes are gonna get slapped tonight. It’s tradition.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

She grins wide. “And yet you came back.”

Touché.

I look out toward the bar where the music’s louder now, boots echo off the floors, and the place is already filling with laughter, smoke, and testosterone.

Maybe I am crazy, but tonight? I think I’ll survive it.

The music gets louder as the night rolls on, the bass thumping through the walls while boots and laughter echo across the compound. The bar fills fast, bodies crowding for drinks, and it doesn’t take long before Hex and I are shoulder to shoulder behind the counter, pouring shots, sliding beers across the polished wood, and laughing like we’ve known each other a hell of a lot longer than a day.

She keeps handing me drinks as we work, not enough to get sloppy but just enough to feel warm and loose. The bottle of tequila she cracked open earlier sits between us, and every few minutes she tips it toward my glass with a raised brow.

“So,” she says over the noise, filling two short glasses for a pair of bikers who don’t bother saying thank you. “You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this mad house.”

“Something like that,” I say, grinning as I wipe the bar down.

“I’m Glitch’s Old Lady,” she says with a smirk. “Been here for almost seven years now. Came through with nothing but attitude and a busted tire. Figured I’d be here a day, maybe two. Glitch fixed my car and stole my heart in the same damn breath.”

I laugh, leaning in closer to hear her better. “And now you throw water at people for fun?”

She raises her glass. “And because they deserve it.”

We clink and drink.

Somewhere between serving beers and Hex telling me about the time she kneed a guy in the balls for slapping her ass, I feel the weight of someone watching me. I look up and see Knox walking toward the bar, cutting through the noise and the crowd like the place parts for him. His eyes are locked on me, his smirk slow and dangerous.

He plants both hands on the bar and leans in close, eyes locked with mine. “Evening, Red.”

I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “What can I get you?”

“You,” he says without missing a beat.

I roll my eyes with a laugh. “No, not me. What drink?”

“Hell yes, I want you,” he says again, that grin deepening. “But if I’ve gotta wait, I guess I’ll settle for a whiskey.”

I shake my head, reaching for a glass, but Hex’s voice stops me.

“Uh-uh, what did I tell you about manners?”

I sigh, already bracing for it. “Hex, seriously. Don’t—”

Too late.

A splash of cold water flies across the bar and smacks Knox right in the face. Before he can blink, Hex steps out from behind me, slaps him across the cheek, not hard enough to hurt, but loud enough to turn heads, then spins back toward her drink station like it’s just part of the job.

Knox blinks, then chuckles low as he wipes the water off his vest. “Forgot the ‘please,’ right? My bad. Blame Red, she shot down my first request.”

He leans over again, just enough to brush his lips against mine in a quick, heated kiss that tastes like trouble.

Then he backs away, laughing as he disappears into the crowd.

Hex throws me a look.

“Told you. At least three slaps tonight.”

I cover my mouth, laughing into my hand as my heart thunders in my chest.

One down.