Or if he was, maybe I could hide in the bathroom or something . . . I’d call Painter when I got home, explain what’d happened. Not that I owed him any explanations, but all blustering aside, I really didn’t want to get into it with him over something this stupid. Not after the whole Greg debacle. The fact that I was innocent wouldn’t do a damn thing to save me if Painter got his panties in a twist.

Aaron smiled at me tightly. Obviously he wanted me to keep my mouth shut. We’d had a good time so far, but I was starting to think that maybe Aaron wasn’t such a great guy after all. Sherri was going to hear about this.

No more blind dates.

“Gunnar’s inside,” the prospect said, still eyeing us. I climbed off the bike, then stood there like a good little woman while Aaron got off, too. He caught my hand, giving it what I suspect was meant to be a reassuring squeeze as we started toward the door. Several big men stood around watching us and the bikes, and I thought I recognized one of them.

Oh, crapsicles.

That was a Reapers prospect, and where there were Reapers prospects, there were Reapers. I looked more closely at the bikes, starting to feel just a little sick to my stomach. There was Reese’s ride, and Horse’s. Then I saw a midnight blue custom-painted masterpiece, and knew that I was completely and totally fucked.

Painter was here.

My feet stopped, and I tried to jerk my hand out of Aaron’s.

“We have to go,” I hissed, eyes wide.

“Not until I get my shit,” he said, and while I think he was trying to sound soothing, his hand tightened on mine. “If your ex was really with a club, you’d know it’s a bad idea to argue with me in front of them. Just do what I say and you’ll be fine—you’re totally overreacting here.”

“I’m sorry, Aaron, but you have no idea what you’re talking about. He’s inside, and he can’t see me with you,” I said. “That’s his bike, right there.”

Aaron frowned, and for the first time I thought I saw understanding in his eyes.

“Okay, we’ll make it fast,” he said. “But I can’t leave you out here—it’s one thing if you’re with me, but no way I’d leave a date alone in a place like this. We’ll leave as soon as I find Gunnar.”

For an instant, I considered making a break for it. Just kicking him in the shin and taking off into the trees surrounding the building, but the only thing stupider than showing up at a Silver Bastards party with a strange guy would be causing a big scene. Instead I forced myself to take several deep breaths, then followed him into the bar. Maybe I could hide in the corner, blend in somehow. God, I hoped I could.

The place was packed.

There were girls everywhere—girls in tiny tank tops, girls in bikini tops, and even a few without anything on their tops at all. I could still remember when my boobs were perky like that. Pre-baby, of course. Sigh. Some were carrying around trays of drinks, while others were perched on the laps of more big, burly bikers than I’d ever wanted or needed to see in my life.

Most of them wore Silver Bastard colors, but here and there I saw Reapers patches. There was Reese, standing not far from me. As I watched in horror, a girl who had to be younger than me sidled up to him, wrapping her arm around his waist and nuzzling his chest.

For an instant my heart froze.

Was he cheating on London?

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck, this was bad.

Reese scowled, pushing the girl away roughly enough to make it clear he wasn’t interested. She must have been stoned or something, because she immediately turned to another man, doing the exact same thing to him. I didn’t recognize him, thank God.

This was a nightmare.

“Gunnar!” Aaron shouted, and a huge man wearing only his Silver Bastard colors turned toward us. He had dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, a dark beard, and rich, sexy eyes that scanned me quickly before offering me a smile that sent a shiver down my spine.

Oh my.

Granted, he wasn’t as hot as Painter, but still . . . Why couldn’t Sherri set me up on a date with someone like him? The thought was ridiculous, of course, because I already had way too many bikers in my life. Aaron started walking toward him.

Still no sign of Painter. Perhaps I’d live to date another day after all.

I put my head down, crossing my fingers. Maybe we’d get through this all right after all . . .

“Good to see you,” Gunnar said. “Who’s the girl?”

Aaron put his arm around my shoulder possessively, and I could practically smell the smug he radiated. Ah, wasn’t that sweet—he was proud to have me as a date. Wasn’t that just suicidal of him. God. In the distance, I heard the sound of glass breaking, cutting through the music and conversation all around us. I glanced up, sensing danger. Then Reese’s voice rang out.

“Hold on, son.”

I looked at him, then followed his gaze across the room to see Painter.

Enraged.

He was stalking toward us, eyes full of murder.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

In an instant, Reese was pushing through the crowd, grabbing Painter’s arm. I focused on the gesture—Reese was trying to save me. Pulling away from Aaron, I hissed urgently, “We have to get out of here right now.”

He was too busy watching the show, though, too stupid to realize how much danger he was in. Just like a big, dumb puppy. God, Painter was going to slaughter Aaron. He’d go back to jail, and it would all be my fault. On the bright side, I probably wouldn’t outlive my dumbass date by long, so I guess I had that going for me. Why hadn’t Aaron listened when I told him we needed to leave?