Cara Darling by Destiny Blaine

Chapter One
     
    She may have been a little rough around the edges. She may have seen more miles on her back than she’d ever dared to walk, but one way or another Cara, often referred to as Mama or the MC’s sheep, would soon wear another title, too—his woman.
    Scott stood next to the pool table watching the club’s broads like he had some interest in one or two of them, but most of the night he’d kept Cara in his periphery. By two in the morning, he considered himself lucky. His drunken stupor provided excellent double vision. And in his mind, both Caras didn’t have a clue he’d been gawking for the better part of the evening.
    His buddy Logan Marcs sort of shot that assumption all to hell when he appeared out of nowhere. And nowhere must’ve been an exciting place because he sure didn’t look too pleased as he marched toward Scott in the wee hours of the morning.
    “Didn’t expect to see you again tonight, Marcs,” Scott slurred. “With a pretty little thing like Sassy in your bed, most men would think you’d know better than to leave her alone, especially after the party you and your boys threw here tonight.”
    “If I had my way about it, I’d still have a beautiful woman snuggled up in my arms,” Logan said. “Cara called. Says she’s not sure if she should throw you out or invite you back to her room. Claims you’ve been standing here gawking at her for the past couple of hours.”
    Scott stumbled to the wooden ledge on the far wall and grabbed his lukewarm beer. “That’s a lie and the truth.”
    “I can figure out the truth. What’s the lie?”
    “I haven’t been gawking exactly. Admiring has a much better ring to it.” Scott turned up the bottle and took a drink of the god-awful brew. “Any chance you could talk to Tigger’s old lady and see if she’ll grab me a cold one?”
    Logan smirked. “I never took you for a fisherman, Scott.”
    “I’m not,” he said, not at all following him.
    “You’re fishing, all right. Tigger and Cara haven’t been together in over a year. She’s free game, if that’s what you want to know.”
    “Is that a fact?” Scott played dumb. He took another sip of his beer. “Ah.” He tried to pretend the alcohol was ice cold and the news wasn’t music to his ears. “I hadn’t heard.”
    “You’d heard. You just wanted confirmation.” Logan slapped him squarely between the shoulders. “Come on. Let me find you an empty room and see if you can’t sleep off that drunk.”
    “Are you the hospitality chairman nowadays?” Scott looked around the large recreational room. After the big spring fling the Heroes and Rogues had hosted, Scott was surprised the MC didn’t have more night owls. Other than a groping couple making out in a dark corner—well, by the looks of it, they’d moved on to fucking—the place was pretty deserted.
    Then again, it was after four in the morning.
    Even the pretty pool-sharks called it a night. As soon as Marcs appeared, they went on their merry way. Apparently, they’d looked at Logan as an opportunity and taken off. The club’s broads rarely left an invited guest unattended.
    “Devon and Victory are camping out back. I’ve got floor duty,” Logan told him, interrupting his self-inflicted pity party before he had the opportunity to invite a few guests. “I told them I’d lock up.”
    “You guys lock this place up?” He snorted at that. “Man, things sure have changed around here.”
    “Meth heads,” Logan grumbled, guiding him toward the other side of the recreational area. “If we left this place open for anyone and everyone, we’d wake up without food and booze. And they’d take everything that wasn’t tied down.”
    “You can thank the Devil’s Angels for that. They make that shit quicker than the customers can line up for it and that’s saying something.”
    “Uh-huh,” Logan said, noncommittal.
    Stopping abruptly when he realized Logan was definitely trying to push him off to bed before he