Harm's Way: Riot MC Biloxi

gonna need to re-buy, and I really hope you do. It’ll keep things interesting.”
Jenkins, a brawny black man who ran invitation-only poker games at various homes in Biloxi, yelled from the kitchen, “It’s ten-fuckin’-thirty, asshole. No! There ain’t any re-buys!”
Har’s eyebrow jumped for a second. “Too bad. I call your all-in bet, honey.”
He turned his cards over, and I was right. No bluffing. Straight flush, he had the four and six of spades.
I kept my sevens face down and slid them to the bottom of the deck before I stood up.
“Nice hand,” I said, low enough for him to hear me.
“What’s your name?” he asked in an equally-low voice.
I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter.”
As I squeezed between people sitting at other tables in the house, I felt those green eyes tracking my movements.
My shitty luck struck one last time before I got to the front door.
Har may not have remembered me, but my former stepbrother Sam had just come through the front door. Instant recognition lit his face, and he shouted before I could tell him to play it cool.
“Stephie! Holy shit! I haven’t seen you since Dad got rid of your mom. How the hell are ya?”
He asked his question while grabbing me by the waist, lifting me off my feet, and shaking me around like a rag doll. No doubt about it, the Riot MC boys gave Sam the most appropriate road name when they dubbed him “Brute.”
“Sammy, put me down!”
The noise of the other tables continued to fill the room, but I still heard Har’s distinct voice call out, “Jenkins, this table’s on a break. Got it?”
Sam put me on my feet, and I patted his bulky chest. “It’s great to see you, Sammy, but I gotta get out of here. Okay? Call me, we’ll catch up.”
I skirted to his left, but Sam blocked me. “Why you gotta get outta here? What’s wrong?”
“She lost her stack to me,” Har said from behind me.
I closed my eyes praying aliens would beam me up to their hovering space ship. Anything to get away from these two. When I opened my eyes, Har and Brute had shifted so they were side-by-side.
“Weren’t gonna tell me who you are? Really, Steph? It’s been a while, but goddamn, I didn’t know you went and became a fuckin’ snob just like your mom always was.”
My pulse thrummed in my ears again, but this time because of anger. Giving in to my urge to tell him off would make me as much of a shrew as Mom always was to Brute’s dad, though.
After a few moments, I said evenly, “I’m not a snob, Michael.”
He opened his mouth to say more, but I shoved by Brute, out of the house, and ran down the driveway. I heard someone following, and I looked over my shoulder as Har grabbed me there.
“Stephie, stop.”
We stood next to my bike, which was the first stroke of good luck I’d had.
“What?” I asked, turning around.
“Jesus. Are you a robot? That’s the same tone you used inside, but the fire in your eyes tells me you’re pissed as hell.”
I pulled in a deep breath. “Not a robot, Michael. Did you need something?”
He shoved his hand into his thick sandy-blond hair. “You just visiting?”
“No.”
His lips pressed together, and he raised his chin while keeping his eyes on me.
Finally, he said, “Well, no offense, but I don’t think you need to come to another party Jenkins throws.”
I smiled, dug my keys out of my pocket, and slung my leg over my bike. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mike. Do us both a favor? Don’t waste my chips.”
Normally it was hard for me to say what I loved most about my bike. The sleek lines, the flames painted on the silver gas tank, or the soft leather seat. But right then and there, I most loved those loud pipes because they drowned out Har’s questions before I roared off into the night.
Har
“SONUVABITCH! PREZ, tell me Stephanie wasn’t on that fuckin’ Harley. What in the fuck is she doin’ on a bike?”
Har wished she wasn’t riding a Harley, but Brute couldn’t possibly wonder what she was doing on a hog. The two of them were thick as thieves growing up, and he’d helped Brute fix his first bike. Stephie had hung around every chance she had to help or just watch. Naturally, when they finally had that thing running, Brute gave into her when she begged to ride with him.
When he brought her back, it was clear she’d been bitten by the bug. Har had just never thought it would result in her getting herself a Harley.
“Did you know she’d moved here?” he asked.
Brute grunted. “What? She’s living here? Fuck.”
Brute could say that again.
All night, Har’d known something about her was familiar. That had distracted him to no end. Each time he’d examine one of her features, he knew he hadn’t ever kissed her, which meant he damn sure hadn’t fucked her. Focusing on her curvy pink lips, those full round tits, and her gorgeous hazel eyes meant he wanted to fuck her in the worst way.
Until he found out who she was.
He didn’t like any of this, but he seriously didn’t like her living in Biloxi.
If she was a distraction at the table tonight, she’d be an even bigger distraction in the days to come.
And the last thing Har needed was a woman distracting him.

Chapter 2 A Woman Who Fits
Stephanie
MY OLDER SISTER, SUSAN, blew out a sigh. “What were you thinking, Stephanie?”
Laying on the couch, I stared at the ceiling. “I thought I knew what I was getting into. Seriously, Suze, it’s rare, and I mean rare, that quads get beaten by a damn straight flush.”
The lengthy pause on her end told me she was calling up her patience. “That isn’t the point, Stephie. You’re all alone out there and you blew your entire paycheck on a poker game!”
Strange thing about my bad beat was that losing the money