War-N-Wit, Inc. - The Coven (War-N-Wit, Inc. - Book 3) by Gail Roughton Read Free Book Online

can get.
    “Thank you,” I said. “Now let’s eat.”
    Yep, great barbecue. Though of course I was so hungry pretty much any food would’ve tasted great.
    “Do we need to be?” Stacy asked through a mouthful of pickle.
    “Need to be what?”
    “Club mamas,” she said. “Spike said we weren’t club mamas.”
    Chad choked. “ No! ”
    “You sure? ” I asked. “I mean, this biker thing the two of you have—”
    Spike took over, seeing as how Chad was still choking. “Honey, club mamas are strictly one percent clubs. They have club mamas, the other ninety-nine percent of bikers most certainly don’t . And to be a club mama, a woman has to sleep with the club. The whole club. Every member. So there won’t be any jealousy. No , the two of you don’t have club mama in your futures.”
    “Damn sure don’t,” Stacy affirmed. “What’s a one percent club?”
    “An outlaw club,” Chad clarified. “Also known as an OMG. One-percent Motorcycle Gang. Roughly one percent of bikers ride outside the law. They’re one percenters. Look around. You see a 1% patch on a jacket as part of the colors—that’s an outlaw biker.”
    Stacy glanced around. “And they just advertise it? Oh! Over there. There’s a couple. And there’s a few more.”
    “I t’s Bike Week. Daytona’s neutral ground. It’s for everybody. But you still don’t let your bike get out of your sight. Why we’re sitting at this table and Spike and I have a full view of the bikes.” And in fact, we were at a table near a window and Chad and Spike were both positioned for a full view of the outside.
    “Then what are you gonna do about them at night? At the hotel?”
    “We know some guys in a big club stay at our hotel every year, too. The big clubs always park together and keep a sentry on duty all night. They let us park with them.”
    “ Ewwwwwwwwwwwhhhhhhhh! ”
    A shriek sounded from the loud and raucous table next to us. A chair banged back and high-pitched feminine laughter exploded as a gyrating body danced in the floor space between tables.
    “Okay, honey, you been waiting to do that all night! Get your eye-full!”
    Stacy’s eyes widened as the long-haired blonde thrust out her considerable chest, now showcased by the white t-shirt dripping beer. I’d already noticed bras weren’t considered a necessary part of the wardrobe for Bikers Week. Certainly not by this blonde.”
    One of the guys at the blonde’s table clapped madly and shouted “Too many dry t-shirts in this place! Let’s fix that!”
    A deluge of beer exploded over my chest. Stacy gasped with me and I knew she’d been baptized too.
    “ Aw man! No fair! These chicks wearin’ bras! ”
    “ You gotta be kiddin’!”
    “C’mon, lil’ darlin’s, you gotta get with the program here! ”
    “ You want a program , buddy? How’s this for a program? How’s this feel?” Stacy surged out of her chair and drew the arm holding her beer mug back in a modified version of the underhand softball pitch that terrorized neighborhood soft ball games every summer of her childhood. She got two of the cat-callers with one shot. Full in the face. I wasn’t sure she’d gotten the one calling attention to our under-apparel wardrobe and besides, I didn’t want her having all the fun, so I stood up and tossed mine. I got two of them too, not as forcefully as Stacy’s toss, but I’d never been an athlete.
    The tossed bikers sputtered. The blonde with the impressive chest screamed “ Bitch! ” She grabbed her mug and tossed the contents in our direction. She’d never played neighborhood softball. It went way wide and caught a biker sitting at a table next to ours.
    “ Son-of-a-bitch! ” Everybody at that table picked up their mugs. Beer exploded over Chad and Spike and quite a few innocent by-standers.
    “ Ass-hole! ”
    “ Fucker! ”
    Within minutes, the whole place joined the action. Clouds of beer rained down over the whole room.
    Chad grabbed my hand, Spike grabbed