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1 - Rebecca

Live a little. Take the hot biker for a spin. Kick the tires. Have him check under your hood. – Misti

SEPTMBER 1999 - LAS VEGAS

Molly leaned against the bar in the club just off the Las Vegas strip. At nearly six and a half feet tall he was taller than most men. Add in the thick soles on his motorcycle boots, and he was one of the tallest men in the club.

Surpassed only by his father, Patch, who stood six feet six inches and a half. Or as Molly’s mom, Jaye, phrased it six and a half and a half.

Molly’s black hair hung loose just past his broad shoulders. The leather cut he wore over a local Harley Davidson t-shirt was open and moved easily with him. His large muscular legs were covered in soft faded denim.

A gold hoop was in his left ear. Many of the Saints had one, usually calling it their halo. They were solid gold and could be sold in the event of an emergency. His mother, like most old ladies, had a pair of diamond studded golden hoopsfor the same reason.

A tribal tattoo peeked out of his right sleeve. A tattoo matching the patch covered his left upper arm with the club motto encircling his arm just under the tattoo above his elbow.

May the Saints bless us as we do the Devil’s work.

He drank down the last of his beer, his sharp blue eyes watching the brunette dancing with her friends.

She was smiling and laughing. She looked like she was having a good time. But Molly could tell it was an act. She was ready to leave, and he couldn’t stand that idea. Not until he got up the nerves to talk to her.

Her black leather skirt was short and tight. Her heels high. The low-cut pink halter shirt barely held her lush tits in. As they danced, her curvy hips swayed and rounded breasts bounced. The vision had him growing hard behind in his jeans and he wondered if the button fly could withstand the pressure.

She turned and their eyes locked. The smile on her lips faltered, but it finally reached her eyes.

Twenty-two-year-old Molly pushed off from the bar and walked out to dance floor. The crowd parted for him, and his pretty girl giggled. He thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

Grabbing her hips, Molly pulled her to him. She braced herself against his chest and the world around them faded away.

“Hold on there, Moses.” She tilted her head back and grinned at him.

“Moses?” he asked with a grin.

“You know, parted the great sea of people.”

Molly chuckled. “Never was good with all those Bible names.”

“That’s a problem.” She grinned. “I have a Bible name.”

“Well, Bible, you want a drink or something?” He gave her his best panty melting smile. And it worked so well she wondered if her panties would melt down her legs.

Turning to look at her friends, Rebecca found that they all encouraged her to go. Turning back to Molly, she smiled and let him lead her to a table.

“So, Bible, is it actually Mary, Ruth, Tamara, Esther? Jezebel? Please, let it be Jezebel.”

She laughed at him. “No, it’s Rebecca.”

The waitress in a skimpy bodysuit came by and took their drink order. The blonde smiled a little too friendly at the large biker and he ignored her, focusing instead on his pretty brunette. They spent the next three hours talking about everything and anything.

Her life in foster care. His life growing up in the club. She moved here after turning eighteen, without even graduating high school. He was out for the weekend rally.

She was at the bar for her friend’s twenty-first birthday. He was here because his club president, Sinner, chose the bar. Last he saw, Sinner and his wife, Lily, had disappeared back to the hotel.

Rebecca’s friends wandered by at some point and said that they were going to leave. As soon as they found Lottie, the designated driver.

A moment later, there was a commotion at the back of the bar. Rebecca looked over and saw Misti, the birthday girl, arguing with a man with his arm around a very intoxicated Lottie.

Molly followed the pretty brunette over and motioned for his club brothers to join them as they passed. The bikers arrived at the small group in the back just in time to hear the spunky redhead wearing a birthday girl sash argue with a preppy college boy. Looking at his dad, Molly could only grin as Patch rolled his eyes.

“She’s not even old enough to drink!” Misti yelled. The redhead’s temper was evident in her stance and written on her face. Her bright blue dress was skin-tight and hardly there.

If Molly had not just met his pretty Rebecca, he would have certainly paid more attention to her. But the beauty had nothing on his pretty girl. However he saw some of his brothers certainly were appreciating her beauty and sexy body.

“She seemed to do it quite well.” The man snarled back. “And she says that she wants to go home with me.”

“She is too drunk to make that decision.” Another one of the girls countered.

“She’s not drunk.” Molly said joining the argument. “She’s been drugged.”

“It’s none of your damned business!” the man told him.

“I’m making it my business.” Molly smiled. “Deuce, call the prospects. We need a car to take the girls home.”

His uncle nodded, already on the phone with a prospect who had the shit job of driving the cage. There were very few that could boss around an older and more experienced brother. Molly didn't care. He knew what needed to be done, consequences be damned.

Coon approached the man with Brute. The first was the vice president for Sinner, and the second was the mother house enforcer. Spider, a man who could win a young Danny Trejo look-alike contest, stood close by.

“You really want to just give up, and let the young lady go.” Coon suggested.

The man looked around at the growing number of bikers. Not so gently, he shoved the woman at Molly.

“Bitch ain’t worth all this shit.”

Coon wrapped a protective arm around the girl, taking her from his nephew, and led her to the front door. The other three girls followed.

“Go with Coon, pretty.” Molly told Rebecca. “I’ll be out there in just a minute.”

Nodding, she ran to catch up with her friends. The man watched her go.

“Should have gone for that one.”

“Now why’d you go and do that?” Spider asked.

“Do what?” the man asked.

“Insult my woman.” Molly answered. “Why don’t we step out back and discuss your apology.”

“Whatever, man.” the preppy college boy said as he tried to push past Molly and the other Saints.

Molly’s large hand flattened on the pale blue polo shirt. “That was not an optional invitation.” Easily he pushed the other man towards the back door. Spider slipped a folded bill to the bouncer at the back door as it opened for them to leave.

“Look-“

The first fist hit the preppy boy before he had even gotten the first word out. Balling up a fist, he prepared to strike back, and the second punch landed. The next few hits easily found their mark and the preppy boy fell to the ground.

Once he lay on the ground, unconscious but still breathing, Molly filtered through the other man’s pockets. The small baggie of pills was easily found. Grinning, Molly crushed a pill and poured it into the other man’s mouth.

The guard tapped Spider on the shoulder and handed the money back. “Shit this is going to be entertaining! This is on me, man, I gotta watch what happens to the fucking bastard now.”

Pretty boys' friends finally realized what was going on with him and jumped in to defend their friend. They were quickly dispatched, and the bouncer directed the Saints were to go before he called the police.

Just as he promised, Molly met Rebecca out front a short few minutes later. His knuckles were bruised and busted, but his touch was soft and gentle.

“Come on, pretty, let’s get you home.”

He tipped her face up and gently nibbled on her lips. She smiled at him as he slowly moved away and guided her to the 1950s Suburban where her friends were waiting.

Mary had already given the address to their apartment complex and Molly followed them on his bike as the other Saints found a new bar to party at.

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