HANDS OFF MY BRIDE: Scarred Angels MC

by Claire St. Rose

  “Shit,” Adam said under his breath. Scarred Angels was the name of Adams organization. It had grown from a biker gang to a legit business; protection was one of the services they offered and the one most likely to be hired by unsavory characters. “The Kane family wants to hire us to watch a girl? What, is the army busy or something?”

  “Currently fighting two wars on foreign soil and we should stop calling her a girl. She’s twenty-six. They’re willing to pay our highest fee, plus per diem, plus a bonus if we find out anything on who shot the old man.”

  “If the old man’s all jacked up and in the hospital, who’s hiring us? The girl?”

  “Family friend, James Hastings. Somehow he heard of us and recommended us. First payments already been made and cleared.”

  “You agreed to this without talking to me first?” Joey and Adam both owned the club. In fact, most of the members of Scarred Angels had put up money, but Joey and Adam, with Adam’s Uncle Bill, ran the day-to-day operations of the club and their protection services. They always talked to each other before making any deal.

  “Look at the money,” Joey said, showing him the contract. “Plus, it’s the Kane family. They are legit, old money. You’re always talking about how we have to be above board and legal and all that shit. It doesn’t get more above board than the Kanes. Plus, check this girl out.”

  Joey held up his phone and Adam took it to get a better look. The girl in the photo was stunning, but Adam knew money could buy beauty. She had long, curly dark brown hair, dark eyes and pale skin. In the photo, she was holding a pair of those giant novelty scissors in front of a building with a big ceremonial red ribbon. The Jasmine Kane Women's Refuge, generously donated by the Kane family and named after John Kane’s late wife, the text underneath the picture said.

  “So, what, we follow around some pretty party-girl?”

  “And get paid to do so,” Joey answered.

  Adam let out a sigh. It was everything he wanted: a legitimate outlet for his business. Something that the IRS would approve of, the job had everything he could have wanted. But something was bothering him and he knew in an instant what it was. Dakota Kane, rich, beautiful and one of his men would be watching her twenty four/seven. One of his men would have to be around a beautiful woman all day, know her schedule, her friends; anything there was to know about her, they would know. They would have to watch her, be with her, do this job and stay professional. There could be no hooking up with the person they had been hired to protect. He was worried it was too much to ask.

  “All right,” Adam said, “But I’m taking point on this.”

  “Why?” Joey demanded.

  “You know why.” Adam said.

  “Oh, so I can’t handle myself, but you can?” Joey demanded.

  “I didn’t say it; you did.” Adam said, ending the discussion.

  “Fine, boss man. You start tomorrow night. There’s a benefit at the opera she needs to attend.” Joey scoffed, “like anybody has ever needed to be at the opera.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The house was obnoxious and Adam hated it on sight. It was the most expensive house in the most expensive section of the city. Matching McMansions with matching green lawns worked by matching gardeners lined the street as Adam’s biked roared past them. In each driveway sat new cars all gleaming and perfect. There was no trash in the streets, but there weren’t any kids out playing either. There was no character, no personality; it was as if all of these rich people had picked out the house and the life that came with it from a catalogue. The streets were suspiciously silent; Adam imagined the shooting of John Kane had rattled a lot of the matching nerves.

  He finally pulled up at the very intense-looking gate that surrounded the Kane property. Property wasn’t the right word – Kane domain, the Independent Republic of Kane? The land the Kane mansion sat upon covered about ten square miles; there was the mansion, but there were also garages, tennis courts, stables, and pools. The Kanes had their own little country back there. They had thought themselves safe until someone had breached their walls. Now Adam was there, a hired mercenary to protect the princess of Kane manor.

  He surveyed the gate for a moment. It was ten feet tall with security sensors and the trees around it had been groomed so no one could use them to climb up and over the gate. There was a sensor with a card swipe and intercom. It all looked very technologically advanced, but it was still mostly useless. As anyone in the security business knew, gates might have worked on Mongol hordes, but they were mere annoyances to thieves and murderers. Adam figured an uncoordinated child could have figured his way over that gate within an hour; a trained assassin sent to kill would need about a tenth of that time.

  He used the swipe card they gave him and the gate swung open, revealing a long road lined with apple trees. He revved his bike and with a heavy sigh and reminded himself what this job meant as he rode his Harley down the winding street, watching as the Kane mansion appeared before him.

  It was like a church and a castle had a baby together and then they spoiled that baby rotten. The mansion was built from a sand colored stone and it rose in front of him like a mirage. There were turrets and pillars and columns. There were also a lot of windows, way too many windows. He had spoken with the company that installed the security system and had them run a scan to make sure the sensors on all of these windows were working. He would have to tell the housekeeper to close all the blinds and shut off as much of this mansion as possible. Any rooms or hallways that weren’t used every day were getting shut down. The last thing Adam needed was some psycho hiding in an empty room for a few days, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

  As instructed, he pulled around the side of the house where he saw Kane’s massive garage. At three thousand square feet the garage was bigger than Adam’s apartment. Hell, it was bigger than Adam’s club. He swiped his card again and the large garage door rolled back, revealing about ten million dollars’ worth of automobiles. He parked his bike in an empty spot and took a moment to simply bask in the beauty that was around him: a silver Lexus LS that could go zero to sixty in five seconds and a red Lexus RCF with its brand new V8 engine. There were BMW convertibles and classic cars all lined up neatly in this garage. They were all gleaming and new without a dent or scratch or the tiniest amount of grit or dirt on them. Adam wondered how many of them had actually left the garage and been taken out for a spin. It was a sin that this man could have all of this hardware and none of the appreciation. Looking at the BMW convertible, Adam knew the perfect hilly road about forty minutes outside of the city. If he could only get that car out there, and open her up...but he had not been hired to test drive John Kane’s cars; he had been hired to watch the man’s daughter.

  There was a brand new, black, all leather interior Lexus gassed up and waiting for him with the keys in the ignition and important addresses plugged into the GPS. If Adam had to be a glorified chauffeur, he was at least glad that he would get to do it in a nice car. In doing his research for this job, Adam assumed the cars would be his biggest temptation. He spent all morning looking up info on Dakota Kane, and he had been rewarded with typical heiress behavior.

  Parties, events, banquets, and balls, she sat on the board of a dozen charities, as well as the arts council, the opera, and the ballet. All in all, Dakota Kane was just another typical pretty, rich girl who liked to go out, get drunk, and call it a charitable donation. He had spent the entire night looking at pictures from all of the extravagant events she had either hosted or attended – a black tie dinner with filet mignon and Chilean sea bass for the children’s hospital and, ironically enough, a night at the ballet for the Kane Home for Young Boys.

  As he read puff piece after puff piece about how great Dakota Kane and her charitable ways were, Adam only grew angrier. Sea bass and filet mignon weren’t cheap; neither was the ballet nor a five-hundred-dollar-a-plate dinner for the needy, but how much actually went to the needy? When you factored in the space and the food and the entertain
ment, it probably came out a wash. Imagine if they took all that money they spent on all that fancy food and actually gave it to the poor. Forty dollars could buy a filet, or it could help feed a family of four for a week. The waste and expense made him sick. All those rich people patting themselves on the back for helping the less fortunate, spending the night eating food the needy would never get to touch, and then returning home to their mansions. None of them knew what it was to be needy, not like Adam did. But he wasn’t here to settle scores or explain poverty to those who would never experience it. He was there to keep Dakota Kane safe until her father’s attackers were brought to justice. He just needed to stay focused and finish this gig. Then he would be set.

  If this went well and he got a good recommendation from Kane, he could get connected with some other rich and powerful people who needed some protecting. More people meant more work – work for his cousins and friends. He had them all working at the club, but it wasn’t enough hours and he knew when he wasn’t looking, they were still involved in some less than legal activities. But they had to be; the club couldn’t pay for all of them and, unlike the Kane’s of the world, Adam’s people needed to make money. That’s why there was so much riding on this job. If Adam could keep Dakota Kane safe, Scarred Angels would have officially made it. No more riding along with trucks filled with “bananas” and “pacifiers.” No more having to look the other way or hope the cops didn’t show up when delivery time came. They would be a legitimate operation, everything legal and above board. This was literally a once in a lifetime opportunity and Adam had taken control of it. Failure or success, it was all riding on his shoulders.

  “I want all of the windows locked, and the drapes pulled. Tomorrow morning we can go through the house room by room and figure out which rooms we can close off,” he was saying to the housekeeper as the all-too familiar sound of heels clicking on a hard floor came echoing down the main stairs. With a heavy sigh, he looked up, ready to greet his charge and do what needed to be done. But, as his eyes travelled up the stairs and finally rested on Dakota Kane for a moment, Adam stopped breathing. Dakota Kane wasn’t just lovely in photographs; she was beautiful in person. None of the photos he had seen had done her justice. Her flawless pale skin was offset by a simple black dress and her hair was pulled up exposing her smooth neck, but it was something more. There was something in the way she held herself and walked, her movements dedicated and graceful, like a dancer. Her back was straight and her long arms stayed perfectly by her side. And when her friend in the flashy silver number pushed past her on the stairs, Dakota barely paused before continuing her descent, maintaining her composure all the while.

  Silver skirt came down and introduced herself and generally buzzed about him like an annoying fly. He wished she weren’t here; he wished it were just him and Dakota so they could get a chance to at least introduce themselves and try to get off on the right foot. He found himself nervous and taken aback by Dakota, who barely looked him in the eye.

  “Nice to meet you,” Adam said, trying maintain his composure and professionalism. “Miss Kane, could we could talk privately before we leave?” He had asked in what he assumed was the nicest voice possibly; surely she would agree that they were on the same side, at least.

  “Anything you say to me, you can say to Marley. I’m just going to tell her later anyway.” Dakota said as she came down the stairs. Her tone was strong and she spoke slowly and clearly with a beautifully light voice. “And you can call me Dakota,” and unlike her friend who seemed to want her hand actually kissed, Dakota stuck her thin arm and small hand into the air between them. Her hands may have been small, but her handshake was strong and the skin of her hands was so soft and smooth, Adam had to stop himself from grazing her pale fingers with his thumb.

  “Dakota, I’m Adam Mendel. I’m your new personal security guard. We should go over a few things before you go out,” he swallowed awkwardly, his throat suddenly dry.

  “Let’s do it in the car,” Marley whined. “I want to get there and get to the bar already.”

  Adam watched as Dakota rolled her eyes, and then she looked at him, making eye contact and Adam wanted to take a step back. Her beautiful dark eyes, rimmed with shadow, stood out against her pale skin and seemed more alive than any Adam had ever seen.

  “In the car is fine,” he said. Yes, that’s what he needed, a car. He knew everything there was to know about cars, inside and out. He needed something to focus on besides how hot Dakota Kane was. Driving had always been the way Adam let off steam or relaxed, sometimes he would drive hours in one direction, taking any and all back roads he came across, just turning around and trying to find his way back home. Plus, he knew the car would have a divider that went between the passengers and the driver; Adam decided he could definitely use a screen at that moment.

  They walked out into the rapidly darkening sky. The night was cool, spring in full force, and the air was still wet from that afternoon’s rain. The view around him was breathtaking; mist covered hills and starlight that seemed to go on forever. The front door of the Kane’s house didn’t face the city, instead facing out into the valleys that lay beyond. The crickets were starting up and even though Adam loved living in the city and would never leave it, there was something majestic about places without buildings; they were his favorite places to drive through.

  He opened the back door and Dakota slid into her seat without making eye contact. Then, it was Marley’s turn. She pressed herself against him and whispered, “Thanks so much. We all feel so much safer with you around.” Closing the door firmly Adam took a deep breath before opening the driver’s side door and taking the wheel.

  He turned the key in the ignition and the car purred to life. The engine was so quiet and smooth that Adam could barely tell it was running. Checking the odometer, he saw the car had a whopping one hundred and sixty-seven miles on it. He gripped the wheel and let the GPS guide him down the driveway and towards the city.

  “So, Adam,” Marley said, “What is it that you do? You’re a professional bodyguard; is there like a school for that?” and when Adam looked in the rearview mirror she was running her fingers up and down her collarbone. It was less of a suggestion and more of a blatant siren call for his attention.

  He glanced over at Dakota, hoping to catch her eye, but she was sitting off to the side, gazing out the window, gently biting her bottom lip and fiddling with her diamond necklace.

  “Not that I know of,” Adam answered.

  “Who else have you guarded? Who are your references so we may call them and confirm that you are, in fact, a bodyguard since you don’t have a degree to offer as proof?”

  Yeah, right, which previous client should he give her? The Russians who needed an escort from Mexico to Kansas City; the purchase order said they were moving four tons of cat toys. Or maybe he should tell her about the time he hunted a man down for a mobster; he could still remember dragging the man into the warehouse. He had been screaming and begging – he was still screaming and begging when Adam and Joey left; what happened next was none of his concern.

  “All of my clients are confidential.”

  “Then how do people check your references?” Dakota asked.

  He hadn’t realized that she had been listening to their conversation. “We normally work through referrals,” Adam answered. It was a baseball player that wanted to score hookers and prescription painkillers that had been their first foray into personal security. The player had a cousin that was a member of Scarred Angels. He hired them to escort him around take him to the coolest bars, take him to places where he could meet easy women and score easy drugs. It was easy, and the player told other players, and every time the team won a home game they hired the gang for “protection.” Players got traded and talked with other players and the gang started getting steady work. Players dated models and professional party girls who dated executives and Scarred Angels worked their way up the ladder. Now Adam was driving a car with the heir to the Kane fortune
sulking in the back seat.

  He looked in the rear view mirror and was surprised to see Dakota’s critical eyes staring at him. He held that contact for a moment before remembering that he had the heir to the Kane fortune in the backseat and should probably keep an eye on the road.

  The Opera Theater was lit up a pale blue, which was ironic considering the benefit was for the Red Cross. The local news, paparazzi, and various onlookers were all shouting and pointing from behind the dividers that so effectively separated the haves from the have not’s. Adam slowed as he entered the long queue of matching black cars inching their way towards the entrance. Everyone seemed to know the car by the license plate; he was waved past security without even needing to roll down his window. It was like riding with Moses; everywhere Adam drove cars moved out of the way and police ushered pedestrians onto the sidewalk so the car could maneuver easily. He pulled up to the entryway and quickly hopped out to open the door. Marley climbed out first and took a second to pull her short dress down.

  “Thank you, but you don’t have to open the door for us. We can manage that,” Dakota said quietly as she stood up and smoothed her dress down her stomach.

  “Of course,” Adam said, trying not to look at her. “Your lawyer gave you my cellphone number, correct?” he asked, again unable to look at her for some reason.