Are you looking for some WISDOM? Or ENLIGHTMENT? This probably isn’t the place, even if those are the #1lineWed theme of the day. Just a word to the wise, if you are working from home and have no little eyes, keep reading. Otherwise, you might wan’t to save this snippet for “alone time.” Who remembers Dancer, the Irish Wolf who is the VP of the Oklahoma Chapter of the Nightriders? 🙋‍♀️ This is a scene from his story. Talk about a light bulb moment…
****
She stared up at me, a stinking cloud of ammonia surrounding her. She was bloody terrified. Of me. She should be. I was a nightmare stalking her world, and on some primal level she recognized the truth. I focused on the man next to her.

“F-for you,” he stuttered. “And I brought the information, just like you asked.”

The sickly-sweet scent of rotten apples overrode the ammonia. Asshole was lying.

“Adam?” Little bitch found her voice. “Wh-what’s going on?”

The prick shoved her my direction then scurried off like a rat. The cunt fell flat on her face as I stepped around her. Three strides later, I had the asshole. I’m a Wolf. I don’t lose prey, especially not this pissant. He thought he could screw the Nightriders. Not happenin’ on my watch.

“Gonna put you down you lie to me again.”

“N-not lyin’, man. Swear. Take her.”

The girl wasn’t moving. One-handed, I picked up the prick, held him, feet dangling. “Who is she?”

“Peace offering. For the Russian.”

“From who?”

“You know who.”

We were at war with the Hell Dogs. They didn’t make peace offerings. They made death. So did we.

“Enlighten me, boyo.”

“Joe Tex.”

Ah, and that would explain things. Joe Tex, the local drug dealer. He’d picked the Dogs, pissed on the Nightriders. Fatal error. We had a kill order out on him.

“Who is she?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. I’m just the messenger. Joe said she has the info you’re lookin’ for.”

I tossed him in the Dumpster, strolled back to the girl. She’d managed to sit up. Her face was dirty. I smelled blood and scorched hair. She was panicking.

“What’s yer name, girl?”

“M-m-m…” A tear rolled down her cheek but she managed to spit out her name. “M-Meredith.”

“And why should I be keepin’ ya?”

Her eyes got huge as she gawked at me. “I-I don’t know.”

“I should just slit yer throat and walk away.” More tears fell. I ignored them, despite an ache growin’ in m’chest. “Just as soon kill ya both as stand here in the cold.”

“P-please. This is like a bad movie. I keep waiting for it to fade to black.”

“That happens, you’d be dead. Give me a reason t’take ya home and fuck ya.”

She clutched her jacket closed. “You’re crude. I don’t understand any of this.”

Her essential scent hit me. Well fuck me runnin’. A virgin. What the hell was goin’ on? I squatted in front of her, tilted her chin so she had to look at me. “Who are you, little girl? What makes you important to the Nightriders?”

“N-Nightriders? Oh, god.”

Her eyes rolled back as she passed out. I caught her head before it bounced on the pavement, pulled her into my arms.

“Fuck me. That’s Meredith Conroy, Dancer.”

I stared at Tinker, my backup. Bug-eyed, the MC’s enforcer stared back. Feckin’ hell. She was the enemy’s daughter. And m’mate.
****
Hope y’all enjoyed this NSFW peek into Dancer’s…personal problems. 🤣 Writers, do you have any wisdom or enlightened words to share? Readers, when–and what–was your last light bulb moment?