Riding Lil’ Red Hard
Eddie Cleveland
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Copyright © 2018 by Eddie Cleveland
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Acknowledgement
1. Ryan
2. Red
3. Ryan
4. Red
5. Ryan
6. Red
7. Ryan
8. Ryan
9. Red
10. Red
11. Ryan
12. Red
13. Ryan
14. Red
15. Ryan
16. Ryan
17. Red
18. Red
19. Ryan
20. Ryan
21. Red
22. Ryan
23. Red
24. Ryan
25. Red
26. Ryan
Epilogue
Epilogue
The Woodsman’s Baby
The Beauty’s Beast
Tinder Ella
Riding Lil’ Red Hard was edited by Lawrence Editing
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1
Ryan
Whipping down the Montana freeway, it’s easy to get lost in the ‘Big Sky Country’ with these open stretches of endless pavement being kissed by the clouds above. My mind wanders and I grip my motorcycle tight as the vibrations from the road make my body numb. I should’ve pulled over in the last town. My energy is sliding away like the last slivers of sunshine bursting out from the setting sun.
I keep my jaw set, my eyes narrowed, and focus straight ahead. Focus on the road. The amber hues of light streaking over the fields of wheat. The dust kicking up from my bike as I ride past them. It looks like… it reminds me of…
I blink and I’m back in the desert. Around our Humvee, billows of sand plume around us like storm clouds. I know this isn’t real. I’ve been dealing with these flashbacks almost every damned day since I came back from that mission. But no matter how much I try to pull back out of it, no matter how much I tell myself to make it stop, I just fall farther down the rabbit hole.
“Man, it’s been quiet for that last couple weeks. I wonder what’s going on.” Jackson Wilcox shifted in his seat.
“I’ll tell ya what’s going on,” Corporal Heinkel cut in, “it’s spring.”
“What about it?” Lieutenant Connor McLean looked over his shoulder at the boys.
“Well, sir, I’m guessing these Afghani girls ain’t all that different from our American ladies. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve always found that the ladies get hornier than hell in spring. I figure each of these guys have, what? Like ten wives? They must be drowning in poon right now,” Heinkel joked.
“Man, don’t even talk about that shit. This whole deployment has been like an endless set of blue balls,” Gabe complained. “That desert isn’t the only thing that’s been dry.” He tapped his thumb against the glass.
“Cry me a river, pretty boy,” Jackson replied. “Now you know what it’s like for the rest of us in the real world. Not all of us just walk into a bar, give a sexy glance to the ladies, and walk out with a woman on each arm.”
“Dammit, don’t these Afghani girls know who you are?” Heinkel asks. “Tell them you’re Gabe the fucking Babe!”
“Nah, man, I’d rather have blue balls than get my sack cut off for messing around with one of these women. Me and my right-hand man here will tough it out.” I kept my eye on the road, but I could see him hold up his right palm and we laughed.
“All right, boys, let’s focus.” Connor stopped the chatter with just his tone. We instantly sat up straighter and clapped our jaws shut. “What’s our ETA?” he asked me.
I squinted through the windshield of the Humvee I was driving, looking for some kind of landmark.
KA-BOOM!
The flash was so bright it blinded me. My fingers tightened around the wheel and I wrestled to keep the vehicle on the road, but the explosion tossed us in the air, twisting us around. The metal screamed as it crumpled against the ground. My head smashed against the side and for a moment I couldn’t think straight, let alone move.
“Heinkel! Oh fuck, he’s on fire. Help me put him out,” Jackson yelled and Connor immediately jumped into action.
I froze. I couldn’t even move my hand to unclip my seat belt. Fucking useless.
My arms shake as sweat pours down over my forehead and humidity makes my helmet visor bleary. I slow down my Harley. Behind me someone blares on his horn. In my mind I can hear his screams. I can see the fire. The heat singes me all over again. I can’t control my arms. They’re practically convulsing as I try to keep a hold of my bike.
I know better than to jam my brakes on, but instinct takes over rational thought and I do it. Suddenly, the front wheel jerks violently from my control. I try to hang on, to yank it back on my path, but all I do is overcontrol the bike and it skids out sideways. Somehow I manage to stay on, but this could flip sideways any moment and grind me into the ground, crunching my bones up into more dust.
Moments flash in my mind. My first real girlfriend. Her smile. High school graduation. The after party. Basic training. The pride once again swells in my chest. And then, nothing. No love. No kids. No marriage. Just empty partying and meaningless encounters with women whose faces I can’t really remember.
I manage to get my balance. I keep my ass on the seat until the Harley rolls to a stop at the side of the road. I cut the engine and breathe deep, shaky breaths. When I finally look up, an old diner about a hundred yards up the abandoned road comes into view. Looks as good a place as any to celebrate not dying. I start my bike back up, my nerves dancing under the surface of my skin and slowly, carefully drive up.
2
Red
“You know what they say. The best way to get over a man is to get under one.” Shirley’s brown eyes twinkle as she swings her hips in a wide circle, like she’s trying to keep an invisible hula hoop around her waist.
I laugh, even though nothing about this is funny. Scary, yep, it’s all kinds of that. But funny? Not unless you have a sick sense of humor.
“That’s not happening. Honestly, I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” I sigh, staring outside the bar window. Streaks of dust paint the glass with hopelessness, making it seem a lot darker in here than it is.
“I know. I was just making a joke.” She throws her arm around my shoulder, giving me a warm squeeze. “Besides, it’s not like you’ve got the cream of the crop around here to choose from.” She nods at John, the nearly passed out, dirty drunk slumped in his chair under the muted television. “Wolfe was probably the top of the pile, and that ain’t saying a whole hell of a lot.” She shakes her head.
I try to push away the cold tendrils of fear climbing up the walls of my stomach. Trying not to think about how I told Wolfe it was over. And definitely trying not to think about how he menacingly snarled at me, leveled me with his steely eyes, and simply said, “No.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t get to walk away from me.” He settled down onto his mo
torcycle nonchalantly.
“Wolfe, we both know this isn’t working…”
“I said no!” He roared so loud it made his bike sound like a purring kitten. “I’m gonna be back in a week. You better have your shit sorted out by then, Red. This is starting to piss me off. And you know how things go when I get pissed, sweetheart, so you better drop it.”
A shiver licked my spine. I stepped back from him, hanging my head in resignation. Of course I knew how things went for people who got on Wolfe’s bad side. You can’t date a man in a bike club for half a year and not see the horrifying, blood-spattered consequences of crossing him.
I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing in the faint smell of Ivory soap that clings to Shirley’s skin, and try to push the moment away. I can’t, though. I can’t escape this fear that is tattooed under my flesh. I can’t seem to make my heart stop pounding like a girl being chased through the woods by a serial killer. And just like that girl, my awful fate has already been sealed.
“I’ll tell ya what you need to do, Red. You’ve gotta get out of this loser town.” Shirley drops her hand from my shoulder and wipes the dingy bar down with a cloth.
“And do what? I’m not exactly drowning in possibilities.” The truth is I have no idea what I can do with my life. I’m only twenty-six, but waitressing and bartending are the only jobs I’ve known since high school.
“Don’t do that.” Shirley’s hand stills on the cloth and her eyes dart over to mine.
“Do what?”
“Don’t act like your life isn’t still spread out in front of you, Red. You’ve got time and youth and freedom all on your side, hon. Don’t do what I did, okay? Letting birthdays slip past and watching your options narrow with every year that goes by. Trust me, you don’t want to wake up one day and realize you’re still in the same town you’ve been in since you were a kid, serving the same drunks booze and the only thing that’s changed is you don’t recognize the wrinkles and gray hairs you see in the mirror each morning.”
Shirley’s crow’s feet soften as she looks out the window, not that there’s much of a view to stare at. Still, for a moment I can almost see a glimpse of what she must have looked like before this place wore her down. But I can tell by the faraway look in her eyes that she’s not soaking in the dusty, bleak road that winds outside the bar. She’s staring into a universe where she got up and left this town, before most of the businesses closed up shop and left us with bikers and thugs. Before the long hours of dealing with alcoholics had slumped her shoulders and before the ruthless passage of time had marked her skin with a roadmap of lines that only remind her of the mistakes each year have cost her.
Since I started working here, I’ve often thought of Shirley like an adopted mother. Not like the kind who adopts a child, but like I’m the child who adopted her. I never did know my own mom. Sure, my grandmother told me about her, but she was always pretty sparse on details, leaving my child imagination to fill in the gaps.
Sometimes I’d make up fantasies about why she had to abandon me. Maybe she was an undercover agent on the run from international terrorists. Or she might have been an astronaut who only had one opportunity to go out into space and left me with my grandmother to pursue her greatness. I definitely never imagined her as a teen mother with a crack addiction who chose working the streets to feed her habit over me.
But then, kids always assume the best of people, don’t they?
“Hey! Asshole! This isn’t a motel, bud. If you can’t handle your booze, it’s time to move out.” Shirley claps loudly as her shrill tone cuts across my thoughts. The guy slumped at his table lifts his head and looks from side to side slowly, his puffy eyes squinted into tiny slits. Then he thumps his face back down on the table, ignoring her.
She twists her lips down and nods at me. “See? This is not how you want to spend your life. You need to get out of this town before you know nothing else.” Setting her jaw, she lunges out from behind the bar and goes after the sweaty, sleeping man like a pit bull.
Just as she makes it over to John’s side, the bar door opens with a creak and I glance over at the shadowy man standing with the sunlight glinting in behind him. I can’t make out his features, but my pounding heart instantly spots that he’s the same size and height as Wolfe.
Fuck, he’s back early.
So much for new beginnings or figuring any of this out. Maybe I’m doomed to repeat Shirley’s mistakes. Just another woman dragged down by this hopeless place. Another casualty of a dead end job in a dirty bar.
He wobbles slightly. Great, he’s back early and he’s drunk. I can’t hide my disappointment. I can’t even pretend to be happy to see him. Knowing that he’s won. I won’t be able to ever leave him. I was delusional to think I could ever be anything but Wolfe’s.
He steps inside and my heart fills up like a helium balloon at the checkout aisle of Walmart. One of those Disney princess ones I’d always beg my grandmother to buy me when we went shopping. I expect to see Wolfe’s angry face, with his signature scar cutting down his cheek and over his chin.
Instead it’s a man, an incredibly sexy man, with the most intense blue eyes and boyish smile. My eyes flicker over him, eager to learn every inch of him. To memorize every feature. I bite my lip, and just for a moment all of my fears and twisted up anxieties float away as I get lost in this guy’s thick shoulders. The easy way he strolls into the bar keeps me hypnotized with every step.
I realize I’m holding my breath. I remind myself to suck in some oxygen. I exhale a long tremble of desire as my heartbeat flutters. Who is this man? Why is he here?
I shouldn’t be giving him a second look. I have other things to worry about besides a smoldering and sexy guy who just happened to get turned around in this ghost town. I shouldn’t care, but I do.
Before I have a chance to think about it, my smile betrays me. I tuck my hair behind my ear as he approaches the bar and just can’t help the telltale heat that’s kissing my cheeks.
“Hey.”
3
Ryan
I saunter into the bar on shaky legs, trying not to think about how I almost ate dirt back there. I need some food and maybe a beer. I could use a distraction from living inside my own head so much.
My eyes adjust to the dimly lit pub. Outside there’s still a few hours of daylight left, but you’d never know it from how seedy and dark it is in here. Of course, the wood on wood decor isn’t helping to lighten the place up any. With the dark, worn floors and the paneled walls, it’s like someone slaughtered a forest just to make this place. It was probably fashionable back in the seventies, but it hasn’t aged well.
And apparently neither have the clients. I scan the seats, all of them empty except for one. In it there’s an old man who’s either shit-faced or taking a nap. Either way, this place doesn’t exactly scream party.
“Hey.”
I twist my head around like an owl, zeroing in on the breathy voice that’s teasing my senses.
“Well, hello there.” The distraction I needed so desperately appears like a mirage in front of me. I get lost in her green eyes for a moment. The way her fiery red hair is loosely tied up in a bun with little wisps cascading down her creamy neck. It makes me want to grab that hair in my fist and hold her steady under my control while I lick a long trail of wet heat down her exposed flesh.
I walk over to the bar and imagine bending her over it. Peeling her tight jeans down over her ass until her pussy is exposed to the air and ram my cock into her without mercy. Fuck. I set my jaw and try not to stare at the way her tight, little, white tee clings to her breasts. The way her nipples press against the fabric tells me that those perky, full tits are just defying gravity all on their own. There’s no bra to get in the way of my salivating tongue.
Fuck.
My cock grinds up against my jeans, throbbing at the sight of her. Now I’ve got a completely different reason to be walking funny. The almost-wipeout is a distant memory as I close the space between us, my eyesig
ht narrowing down to only her. As I approach the bar, I’m grateful for the coverage it gives me. I don’t want her to see my thick throbbing member practically tearing a hole in my jeans. She bites down on the edge of her bottom, pink lip and I swear I stop breathing. Maybe I do want her to see what she’s doing to me after all.
“What can I get ya?” She clears her throat and narrows her eyes. Whatever spell I thought I had her under seems to have broken. She furrows her brows, avoiding my hungry stare.
You can get on your knees and wrap those lips around all ten inches of my fat cock.
Of course I wouldn’t say that. Not right now anyway. You gotta get a lady warmed up first. “How about a Miller... and your number?” I smirk, but she refuses to look at me.
Instead, she rolls her eyes and grabs a beer from the glass-fronted fridge behind her. Without so much as a nod, she opens the lid and slides it over to me then marches away. Her ass is completely hypnotic. The way the perfect round curve sways from side to side with each footstep she puts between us.
“Hey, Romeo! Ya want some food or you just here for the view?”
My head snaps over to the woman with short, silver hair and a sparkle in her eye. “Oh, uh, yeah. I could eat.” I nod slowly, like I’m coming back from a deep sleep.
Riding Lil' Red Hard: A Modern Day Fairy Tale (Fairy Tale Series Book 3) Page 1
