-LUTHER-
The loud music drummed against my skin. The air was thick with sweat, alcohol, and the smell of greasy food, while the neon lights flashed hard enough to make my eyes hurt.
The Drunken Scorpion was a biker bar out in the desert, owned by old-timer named Grizzly. He used to ride with my uncle, and over the years, the place had become one of my favorite spots.
The music was good. The booze was cheap. The greasy burgers were f*****g great.
Tonight, I hated every goddamn thing about it.
"On a scale from one to ten, coming here is a f*****g clusterfuck," I muttered, my eyes glued to the small area in front of the stage where Audrey was watching the band play.
My back was against the bar, but my body was angled toward the exits. If I spotted so much as a snake tattoo, I was haulin
