After all, there’s no rest for the weary.
Especially for a new lawyer who had just opened up a new practice.
Still, I wasn’t hurting for clients. Not really, anyway. I was one of four lawyers in town, and I was the only one that specialized in criminal law. Around here, divorce attorneys were more prevalent. Go figure. And for a split second as I purchased my business building, I worried that might play against me. But most of my work came to me through the local police departments. I quickly made positive contacts with the force, and instantly became the go-to for traveling federal forces that came into town to continue their own investigations.
Things were looking up.
Even though I was throwing the bulk of my money at my spiraling debt.
“Holy shit!”
My body lurched and my head almost smacked the steering wheel. I braced for impact, knowing damn good and well that if I hadn’t hit something, I was about to. I squeezed my eyes closed and hung on tightly to my steering wheel. I held my breath, waiting for the crunching of metal to happen. I wasn’t sure why the hell my car had come to such a hazardous stop, but I knew I needed to prepare.
The impact never came, though. And slowly, my eyes opened.
“What the—”
There was nothing around me. Nothing behind me. I sat in the middle of a deserted road with my car completely stalled out. I sighed as I turned off the engine. I depressed the clutch and put the shifter back into neutral, then tried starting up the car. But it didn’t start. Hell, it didn’t even sputter.
It just clicked.
“Fucking hell, come on,” I whispered.
I kept turning it over, again and again. Hoping that if I tweaked it enough, something would have mercy on me. I pressed the gas pedal a bit, wondering if that might help. But at that point, I was worried I’d flood the engine if I tried that again. I put the shifter in park and tried to crank. I put it in reverse and tried to crank again. I tried every gear that fucking shifter had to see if it was a magic combination of some sort. But after a while, even the click of the initial turn over ceased to exist.
And I was left with a dead car in the middle of the road.
“Fuck!” I exclaimed.
I slammed the heels of my hands against the steering wheel as tears rushed my eyes.
“Can’t someone have mercy on me just once?” I whispered.
I turned the key back and clicked it forward once, springing the battery to life. So, it didn’t seem like a battery issue. I had power to the car. That stupid “check engine” light blinked at me despite the fact that I had practically disassembled the damn thing to make sure it was okay. My dad and I—before he got fed up with my mother and left me behind—used to always work on cars. He owned his own scrap yard there for a while, and he’d always bring home hopeless projects for us to work on. I knew a great deal about how to take care of cars from him. It was how I’d kept this heap of junk running for so long on the road.
However, even I was getting fed up with how time-consuming the repairs on this thing were becoming.
“Come on!” I shrieked.
I turned over the engine. Or at least tried. I cranked it, again and again, with no sound hitting my ears. Tears slipped down my cheeks. I drew in ragged breaths as I unbuckled my seatbelt. I threw my entire body into cranking that damn engine. As if the effort I put into the crank itself might fill this rusted piece of metal with the energy it needed to go five more miles.
Just five more fucking miles.
I ripped my keys out of the ignition and popped the hood. I slipped out of the car, my heels touching down against the pavement. There wasn’t a car in either direction coming for me, despite being on a main road that ran through town.
Then again, it was ten at night on a Sunday evening.
No one was going anywhere in this place until morning.
“All right. Let’s see why you’ve decided to be a diva,” I murmured.
I hunched beneath the hood and pulled my phone out of my bra. I turned on the flashlight and searched around for the first three things my father always taught me to look for.
Smoke, leaking, and cracks.
I didn’t see either, though.
“Of course, this would happen to me while I’m wearing a pencil skirt and heels,” I murmured.
Had I been in literally anything else, I would’ve simply walked home. Five miles wasn’t that bad for someone like me who ran four miles every morning before work. The walk might have even been refreshing, especially with the cool breeze wafting against my back. But in heels? My blisters would have blisters by the time I got home. And there was no telling what I might step on or how many times I’d stub my toe if I walked barefoot.
In a damn pencil skirt.
“Note to self: put a change of clothes in the car.”
I checked the connections to my car’s battery, but nothing was wrong. They weren’t corroded or insulated with anything. So, the current was open. I flipped open the fuse box and made sure all of the fuses were snuggly and in place. Because a loose fuse in anyone’s car could make it go wacky. I reached my arm down between all of the wires and tubes, trying to see if I could reach the alternator. Because if that damn thing was stuck, one good pound with my fist might dislodge it.
“Just one more inch,” I grunted.
I wiggled my fingertips, but they only brushed against the damn thing. Tears crested my eyes again as I saw my phone flashlight slipping. I ripped my hand out, catching it against something sharp. And as the fabric of my black blouse tore, blood rose to the surface.
“Are you serious right now!?” I exclaimed.
My phone clattered to the ground as a tear dripped down my cheek. I was tired. I was fed up. And all I wanted to do was be home already. I wanted a nice, hot shower. I wanted a mug of apple cider while I worked. I wanted to fall asleep at my kitchen table like I’d done so many times before, content with the work I was doing.
Yet, here I was. Crying like a pussy on the side of the road because my car wouldn't start.
“Will someone have mercy on me? Please?” I choked out.
As if the heavens heard my plea, I heard a rumbling sound in the distance. I reached for my phone beneath my car and scooped it up with my bleeding arm. I quickly stood to my feet and waved the light around, hoping that the approaching person might have enough pity to stop and help.
And as the motorcycle pulled up behind my car, I sighed with relief.
“Oh, thank God. Hi. Hi there. I, uh, do you by any chance have jumper cables? Or, any knowledge of ca—”
My flashlight illuminated the sparkling bike as the man put his kickstand down. And the second he stood, I almost swallowed my tongue. Holy shit, the man was massive. I mean, broad-shouldered and strong-jawed, with a mean look in his eye. He easily stood six feet tall. Probably a few inches beyond that as well. And as my hand slowly lowered to my side, his eyes hooked with mine.
His bright, blue, luminescent eyes.
“Everything all right here?” he asked.
His voice felt like warm butter being poured over my body. It was as deep as the well of his glorious eyes. His raven black hair matched my own, both in color and in thickness. He came to stand in front of me, with my neck craned back to keep him in view.
My brown eyes reflected back at me in his blue pools of comfort.
“Uh, I—I just…”
He grinned. “Dead car?”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah. Won’t even make a sound when I turn it over.”
His eyes fell to my arm. “You good?”
I looked down. “Oh! Oh, oh. Yeah. I mean, it stings. But it’s superficial. Nothing a nice clean with some peroxide won’t fix.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, yeah. Totally sure.”
“Uh huh.”
My eyes fell against his boots and slowly raked up his body. I took in his faded jeans and the slim features of his waist. The leather jacket he donned stretched over his shoulde
rs as the seams practically cried out for help. And as my eyes danced up his neck, I thought I saw the faintest hint of a tattoo against his skin.
Huh.
“You tried calling someone?” he asked.
My eyes whipped up to his face. “What was that?”
He chuckled. “Calling someone. With your phone. You tried that?”
My mind kept going back to the peekaboo tattoo beneath his shirt. The bike still humming with life behind him. The leather jacket he wore. The scar that cut through his left eyebrow.
He’s trouble. Be careful.
“Uh, I mean, I tried leaving messages with some people, but it’s pretty late on a Sunday night. I’m sure they’ll wake up soon and get them, though. They never leave their phone completely off at night.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “That so?”
I nodded. “Yep. My friends always have my back.”
“Your friends.”
“Uh huh.”
“Your friends around here.”
I didn’t like this one bit. “Yep. One of them is less than a mile from here.”
“Then, walk to her house.”
I blinked. “What?”
“If she’s so close, walk to her house.”
“What makes you think it’s a ‘she?’”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Not really believing any part of your story right now. Want to try to convince me your friend is a ‘she?’”
My heart rate sped up, my breathing growing ragged. I had to project an air of strength to this man, otherwise I was in big trouble. He needed to know that he couldn't take advantage of me. He needed to think I was surrounded by people who cared about me even though I was new to town and knew literally no one. And had no one. And relied on no one.
And loved no one.
“Well, while you’re getting your story straight, want me to take a look under the hood?” the man asked.
His voice ripped me from my trance. “No use. There’s no smoke, no leaking, no loose fuses, no weird smells. No cracks in any of the reservoirs and none of the tubes are punctured.”
“So, you know your way around cars, then.”
I shrugged. “Was a family pastime of mine during my childhood.”
“Same here. Mind if I take a look anyway?”
“What? You don’t trust me?”
“About as much as you trust me right now.”
I nodded. “Fair enough.”
He snickered as he walked by me, and his body heat reached out to wrap around me. It held me close before he walked away, but the scent of leather and cologne still held me hostage. The smell sent a shiver down my spine. I slowly turned around as a flush worked its way down the nape of my neck. I lifted my phone and winced at the pain shooting through my arm. If anything, I needed to get that cleaned quickly. Otherwise, I was in an entirely different world of trouble.
Because I certainly didn’t have a well of money to draw from when it came to doctor’s appointments.
“You’re right,” the man said.
I made my way beside him. “Told you.”
He pointed. “You tried whacking the alternator yet?”
“That’s how I got this gash in my arm. Reaching down, only to not be able to reach it.”
He slid his arm through all of the mechanisms. “I can reach it just… fine… here we go.”
A loud “CLANG!” resounded before he smacked it again. He gave it four good whacks before he pulled his arm out from the mire that was the hood of my car. Then, he pointed to the steering wheel.
“Try cranking it again. I want to listen to what happens when you do,” he said.
And even though I knew the action was futile, I did as he asked. Because if anything happened, I could simply lock myself in my car.
With the gun I had in my glove box.
3
Link
The alternator clicked quickly before the engine sputtered. Which was odd, because usually those two things happened in tandem. And even though the engine sputtered, the car didn’t strike up. So, I held up my hand.
“Okay, okay. Give me one second,” I said.
The car stopped making sounds and I reached my hand back into the mire that was the chaos beneath the hood of this car. She wasn’t joking; she knew how to keep this thing running with all sorts of chop shop solutions. Tubes that had been repaired over and over again. A reservoir that looked like it had been switched out recently. Despite the age of the car, everything underneath the hood was incredibly clean. As if she gave the damn thing a once-over after every fix she had to do.
“All right! Crank ‘er up for me again,” I said.
“You sure it’s going to be okay?”
I stuck my thumb out. “Yep. Try again.”
When she cranked the car, the engine almost sputtered to life this time. And at one point in time, I thought it might take. But the car eventually wound down and stopped making noise despite the fact that I heard her turning her key. That mindless click no one takes into account until that click isn’t accompanied with anything.
I knew exactly what the problem was.
However, it wasn’t fixable on the side of the road.
“Well,” I said as I leaned back up, “I know what the issue is.”
I heard her heel touch the pavement. “It’s the spark plugs, isn’t it?”
I blinked. “It could be. That was my first thought. However, I’d be more inclined to check the fuel pump before trying to get to the spark plugs.”
Her heels clicked against the road as she came around to face me. And damn it, she was gorgeous. Thick raven hair like mine, seated atop dark brown eyes that swirled with pools of amber. Her porcelain skin was softly sun-kissed, twinkling in the glow of the moonlight. She had long legs beneath that skirt of hers that were toned with muscles that made my cock ache. And the luscious curves her body donned called to the crevices of my hands.
But when my eyes darted to her left hand, I didn’t see a ring on her finger.
Which made me grin.
“Well, whatever the issue is, it’s not fixable right now,” she said.
I pulled myself out of my trance. “Afraid not.”
She sighed. “Great. Just grand.”
She leaned against her car and ran her hand through her hair. And I’d never been so jealous of someone’s hand in all my life.
“Well, I could always give you a ride,” I said.
She shook her head. “Nope. I’ll be just fine. I’ve got roadside assistance. I’ll give someone a call to tow this piece of shit somewhere and I’ll catch a ride home that way.”
“In a tow truck.”
“Yep.”
“This late at night.”
She nodded. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
I paused. “Not sure the driver of the tow truck is going to do that for you.”
She shrugged. “Then, I’m sure there’s a taxi or Uber driver somewhere willing to make some money tonight.”
I chuckled. “You’re new around here, aren’t you?”
She paused. “Been here for a while. Why?”
She was still playing that card. Trying to convince me she had all sorts of connections surrounding us, as if I were about to hurt her. Then again, I knew what I looked like. Big. Broad. Tattoos everywhere. Of course, the woman was scared out of her mind.
She did a damn good job of not showing it, though.
I closed the hood of her car. “How about this: I drive you to the nearest—”
“No.”
“Will you just let me get it out?”
“No. I don’t need a ride. Thank you for stopping, but I’ll be fine.”
“So, what are you going to do? Wait for the next person to wander down this road and see you? You don’t even know if they’ll stop for you.”
She shrugged. “You stopped for me.”
I snickered. “Because you’re a beautiful woman on the side of the road. Hell yeah, I stopped for you.”
She stared up at me for the longest time, and I wondered what ran through her mind. But as she watched me, it gave me more time to watch her. She was obviously a professional in an important job. Her outfit told me as much. The heels and the tight skirt. Her shirt tucked into her skirt with this little leather belt wrapped around her waist. Her makeup was impeccable. Not a speck out of sight. And her hair seemed to glisten as if she’d put so much product in it to tame it that it cried out for mercy beneath the moonlight. Her plump, full lips were coated in a deep violet color. Her brown eyes were lined with this makeup that had a cat sort of look to it. It made her look mysterious. It made her look strong.
And damn it, I wanted this woman on the back of my bike.
I always get what I want, too.
I sighed. “Look, if you want to try starting up the car one more time—”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to flood the engine if I haven’t already done that in the first place.”
I nodded. “Understandable, then. How long have you been out here?”
She tucked her arms around her chest. “Uh, maybe about ten or so minutes before you came along.”
“You’re lucky, then.”
“Lucky?”
“Mhm. The last time one of my guys was stranded on this road, took someone damn near an hour to come their way.”
She furrowed her brow. “Your guys?”
I nodded. “One of the guys I work with.”
“Why do you call them ‘your guys?’”
“Because I’m in charge of them.”
“What do you do?”
I grinned. “We can always make small talk on my bike as you’re headed home.”
Her face fell. “I’m good. Thanks.”
I nodded to her arm. “You’re still bleeding.”
She smacked her lips together as she looked down at her shirt. Her arm had a line of blood on it and she hissed in pain as she ran her fingers over the gash in her skin. She really had to get that cleaned. If we stood here much longer, she might get a damn infection in the fucking thing. She was being stubborn, and part of it was pissing me off.
But the other part of me smiled at the fact.
She cleared her throat. “It’s really okay. I can just—”
Link (Dragon Riders MC Book 1) Page 2
