Field Stripped: 15 Steamy Military Romances

by Marissa Dobson

  The music was too loud for her to hear their conversation but the men convened toward the back of the bar. Hunter didn’t give her another glance.

  After two margaritas and two shots of tequila, she had to pee. She caught the eye of the bartender. “Where’s the restroom?”

  He pointed toward the now empty stage. “Back there. In that hallway to the left.”

  “Thanks.” She hung her purse on her shoulder. The hallway was narrow and dark. The first door had a stick figure of a man. There were no speakers in the corridor and it was much quieter. The heels of her boots clicked over the concrete floor. The ladies room was close to the fire exit. She ducked inside. It didn’t have stalls, just a toilet, sink and mirror but at least it was clean. She half expected to walk in and find one of those bar bimbos snorting a line of coke off the back of the toilet or something.

  There were no toilet seat covers so she quickly employed her hover method, relieved herself and washed her hands. The lights in bathrooms were always so harsh and her face looked pale in the cracked mirror. She put on some lip balm and straightened her jacket. She was a little dizzy from the booze and figured after another hour or so she’d be cool to drive back home. It was almost eleven now. At midnight, she’d bail.

  She pulled the door open and ran smack into the chest of a man. She hadn’t seen him in the bar earlier but he wore the same leather vest as Hunter. The Master Reaper patch was on the left side and there were slash marks embroidered below it like he was keeping score of something.

  “Oh man. You startled me.” Holly laughed and touched his arm. “I’m sorry.” She stepped to the side to go around him since he didn’t seem to be moving out of the way.

  He kept eye contact with her and stepped in her path. “Easy, sweetheart.” He put his heavy hands on her shoulders. A tattoo of a crow peeked out of the neck of his gray shirt. The wings curled up the sides of his throat. More black ink covered both his arms. The centerpiece on his right arm was a skull with two pistols and the name of the club.

  Jesus. He was big. “Excuse me.” She tried again to walk past him.

  He smiled. “What’s your hurry?” A black beanie covered his head. Shaggy dark hair hung past his shoulders.

  The scent of liquor on his breath was so strong that she turned her head and wrinkled her nose. “Excuse me, please.”

  Ignoring her request, he backed her farther into the bathroom. “You must be the new one. I haven’t seen you before.” He licked his lips and looked down at her boobs.

  The scoop neck shirt she wore wasn’t provocative but apparently it accentuated her cleavage a little too much. “I just want to leave.” She put her hands on his chest and pushed back but he didn’t move.

  “We’re all here for a good time, baby. Let’s get this party started.” He advanced on her.

  Before she knew what he was doing, she’d been lifted off her feet and pushed back against the wall. “Stop it.” She balled up her fists and hit him on the shoulders.

  “Hit me again. I like a little fight in my women.” His eyes were bloodshot and his words came out slurred.

  Panic skittered up her spine and her heart pounded. “Put me down or I’m going to scream.”

  “You’re giving me a hard on.” He squeezed her thigh hard and pulled her leg up around his hip.

  She managed to slip her hand into her purse and flipped the button on the pepper spray holster with her thumb. The leather bag dropped to the floor and the contents scattered.

  As she raised the canister up between their bodies, a look of recognition registered on the dude’s face. She held her breath, closed her eyes and pressed the red button.

  He stumbled back and she took the opportunity to knee him in the groin. The combination of the pepper spray to the face and the blow to the nuts dropped him. He groaned and rolled onto his side. “Fucking bitch.”

  Holly stepped over him and grabbed her purse off the floor. She stopped in the corridor to catch her breath. She steadied herself and walked back through the bar. The pack of cigarettes was still on the counter and she shook one out but her hand trembled so bad that she couldn’t flip the top of the Zippo to light it.

  The bartender reached out and took it from her. “You okay, honey?” He lit the end of the cigarette.

  She took a deep pull and blew out the smoke. “Thanks. Yeah. I’m okay. I have to take off.” Without talking to anyone else, she made a beeline for the front door and walked toward her car. The cool air felt good on her face and the reality of the situation set in. This had been a stupid idea. She could do research on the internet or watch Sons of Anarchy or something. She didn’t need to be pawed by a biker to get the gist of the lifestyle.

  She didn’t smoke in her car so she finished the cigarette while she dug for her keys in her purse. The keychain was tangled with her earbuds and both fell on the ground. “Fuck.” She stepped on the cigarette and grabbed them.

  The parking lights flashed when she pressed the button to unlock the doors. Heat flushed her cheeks. Between the booze and the adrenaline, she was sure her cheeks would be red. She was mad more than scared and wanted to just get the hell out of there.

  “Holly.”

  She spun around. “What?”

  “Where are you going?” Hunter crossed the parking lot in just a few strides.

  “I’m going home.”

  “You’re not driving.”

  “How else am I supposed to get there?”

  Hunter towered over her. “You’re drunk and we both know it.”

  She put her hand on her hip. “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t make me take your keys.” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder toward the bar. “Come inside and have a cup of coffee at least.”

  A string of bikes was lined up outside the building. A red neon image of a horned devil complete with a pointy tail was perched on the roof above the door. She fiddled with the zipper on the sleeve of her leather jacket. A burly dude in a black vest stumbled out the door with a bubbly brunette hanging on his arm. They disappeared around the side of the building and Holly craned her neck to see what was back there. This was the kind of place that people got drunk in and then fucked in their cars in the parking lot.

  “I’m not going back inside.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to go home.” Frustration was building and when she got frustrated it made her want to cry. Don’t you dare cry.

  “Fine. Then I’ll drive you.”

  Before she could say no, Hunter snatched the keys out of her hand.

  Chapter Two

  The woman was stubborn as fuck. She stood there like a five-year old about to throw a fit. “You’re not taking me home. I don’t know you from Adam.”

  “If anyone is going to give you a ride tonight, I’m your best option, babe.”

  “I’m sure.” Holly held her purse close to her body like she thought he might grab it and run. Her skin was pale as porcelain but her cheeks were red and she breathed harder than normal. “Anyway, you’ve been drinking, too,” she said.

  Hunter laughed. “I’m not drunk. I had three drinks almost an hour ago.”

  “I only had two drinks.”

  “Yeah but you’re like five feet tall and weigh a buck-o-five soaking wet.”

  An old Buick that needed a muffler pulled into the parking lot and when it backfired Holly jumped.

  “Jesus Christ.” She stared up at Hunter. Black eyeliner made her eyes look bright blue. “I’ll sit in my car for an hour and then I’ll leave. Is that acceptable?”

  “No. Just come inside for a while. There’s no reason to sit out here by yourself.” Hunter looked up at the streetlamp that shed some light on the parking area. “There’s been a lot of auto burgs around here lately. A girl sitting alone in a car is a statistic waiting to happen.”

  “Well, thanks to one of your buddies, I almost became a statistic tonight in the bathroom. I don’t want to go back inside. Is that clear?”

  “Wait. What
? What are you talking about?”

  “Tall guy in a black beanie tried to get in my pants. I’m a little pissed so I’d rather sit in my car.”

  The light on the tail of the devil blinked and burned out. “Damn it.” He took her hand and pulled her towards the bar. “Let’s straighten this out right now.” He had an idea of who she might be talking about. Only one of the members wore a beanie all the time. Butch was young but losing his hair so he kept his head covered. And he was dumb.

  “I said no. What is it with you bikers not understanding no?” Holly reached into her purse.

  There was a blur of motion before she aimed something at his face. The spray hit his eyes like fire and he bent over, fighting the urge to vomit. “What the fuck?”

  He couldn’t see anything but he heard her car door shut and the engine roared to life. When he was in Afghanistan, he’d been hit with gas. That shit was way worse than the crap they called pepper spray nowadays. But it still stung like a motherfucker. Rubbing his eyes and face would make it worse. The bar probably had some milk and that would stop the burn. Hunter blinked his eyes and spat on the pavement.

  Holly’s car was running but she hadn’t left. He hoped she wasn’t crazy enough to run him over.

  “Hey, Hunter.”

  He squinted and looked back toward the bar.

  Hem stood in the doorway. “We have a situation—”

  “I have a situation.”

  Hem let the door swing shut and walked across the parking lot. “Dude. What the hell happened?”

  Hunter pointed at Holly’s car. “She just hit me with capsaicin.”

  “Yeah. You’re not the only one. She maced Butch, too.”

  “Go grab me a bottle of water, would you?”

  “Okay.” Hem was the secretary of the club. Despite his rock star appearance, he was one of the most responsible members which was why they trusted him with their money.

  While Hunter waited for the water, he walked over to the driver’s door of Holly’s car. Her arms were folded across her chest and she stared straight ahead. He tapped on her window with his knuckles.

  She glanced at him. “Go away or I’ll call nine-one-one.”

  “I don’t know what crawled up your ass. But go ahead and call the cops. Maybe they’ll throw you in the drunk tank for the night.”

  Hem came around the side of the car and held out the bottle of water. “Here you go, man.”

  Hunter twisted off the cap and dropped it on the ground. The water cooled the sting and rinsed his eyes out. He shook his head and poured some more on his face.

  “Is she one of those Fatal Attraction type chicks?” Hem whispered. He was one of the younger men in the club but not a newbie. He’d patched in early after being discharged from the Army.

  “Nah. Something spooked her. She said something happened inside.”

  “Well, I think we’ve solved that mystery. Rochelle told Butch that this girl was a new club bunny. So he followed her into the bathroom thinking she was going to be an easy score.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Hunter exhaled. Rochelle had been hanging out in the bar for the better part of a decade. She had money and didn’t mind spending it on booze and games of pool. Also, she’d screwed about eighty percent of the club. Hunter didn’t’ like her. He wouldn’t fuck her with Hem’s dick. “Why doesn’t someone kick that bitch out? This isn’t the first time she’s brought drama into our house.”

  Hem shrugged his broad shoulders. “Because she puts out? Anyway, he followed this one into the bathroom and she surprised him with a can of mace.”

  “Shit.” The taste of the pepper spray lingered in his mouth and he spat again. “Keep an eye on her. I don’t want her to leave yet.”

  “Okay.” Hem leaned on the trunk of her car and pulled his phone out.

  “I’m going inside to give that bitch a piece of my mind.” Hunter strode back to the bar and yanked the door open. After a quick scan of the room, he didn’t see Rochelle. Butch was sitting at the bar with a bag of ice on his face.

  “Where’s Rochelle?” Hunter asked the bartender.

  “She’s in the back with Linc.”

  Hunter turned down the corridor where the bathrooms were. Moans and grunts echoed down the dimly lit hall. A faded poster from the movie Bullitt hung just opposite the men’s room. He pushed the door open. The first thing he saw was Linc’s hairy, white ass and Rochelle’s pale, bony legs wrapped around his waist. Her jeans were in a pile next to the toilet. Linc had her pinned against the wall and was drilling her like he was looking for oil.

  Hunter cleared his throat.

  Linc looked over his shoulder but didn’t stop fucking her. “A little busy here.” His pants were pooled around his ankles and he hadn’t bothered to take off his shirt or his cut.

  Rochelle’s corset hung over the side of a green plastic wastebasket overflowing with paper towels. She kept her hands on Linc’s shoulders but her brown eyes grew wide. Wisps of her red hair were plastered to her sweaty face.

  Hunter pointed at her. “You. Out in the bar. Now.” Without waiting for a response, he turned the water on in the sink and splashed his face and eyes. He grabbed a paper towel and walked out.

  Butch was still sitting at the bar with the ice on his face. Hunter slid onto the stool beside him. “You want to tell me why both of us got bitch sprayed tonight?”

  Butch sighed. “I came in after you guys were meeting with the Bastards. Rochelle and Kimmie were over by the pool table. I stopped to say hi. The blonde who was sitting at the bar got up and went to the bathroom. Rochelle told me she was new and needed breaking in. So, I followed her. When I went into the bathroom she lost her shit and maced me then kicked me in the nads.”

  Hunter’s blood boiled. Rochelle was lucky he had a strict policy of not roughing up women or he’d flatten her ass. Every time a new girl came around, Rochelle started shit and either she tried to fuck them herself or she’d try to take the guy they might be talking to. He’d never known someone who thrived on drama and chaos like that bitch did.

  The bartender slid a glass of whiskey across the counter. “You need some ice, Hunt?”

  “Nah. Pepper spray is like being sprayed with water compared to what I’ve been hit with. The sting is gone already.”

  “That shit will linger in your beard, man. Make sure you wash it out real good.”

  “I will.”

  A disheveled Rochelle sauntered out of the hallway with Linc on her heels. She had that freshly-fucked-in-a-dirty-bathroom look. Come to think of it, she always had that look.

  Hunter stood. “You’re very close to being banned from this bar and from any club activities.”

  She tilted her head to the side and blinked her eyes dramatically. “What did I do now?”

  “You sent Butch into the bathroom with Holly? Told him she was a club girl?”

  “So. Why was she here if she’s not looking to be a club girl?” Rochelle flipped her hair over her shoulder.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Well, what happens between her and Butch is none of your business.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Not only did you almost get her raped, but you got Butch and me both pepper sprayed and now she’s sitting in her car about to call the police. If you bring heat down on my club, you’ll be sorry you ever stepped foot in this place. Do you understand me?”

  “You’re all overreacting. Let me talk to her. I can straighten this out. Woman to woman.” She was drunk and often slept in the booths of the bar only going home the next morning to clean up and change her clothes to come back. Nobody knew what she did for a living but her credit card bill had to be ridiculous with the tabs she settled each night.

  “No. Go sit your drunk ass down somewhere and keep your mouth shut.” Hunter looked at Linc. “If you’re her current fuck, you better keep her in line or I’ll hold you responsible for whatever shit she stirs up.” Hunter ran his hand through his hair. “I’m going
to go talk to Holly and make sure she doesn’t call the cops.”

  Before he went outside he stopped in front of Butch and jammed a finger into his chest. “I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you didn’t just walk into that bathroom and get pepper sprayed.”

  He looked down. “I thought she was playing hard to get.”

  “Look at me, you dumb fuck.”

  Butch’s eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed. The skin around his eyes was discolored from the pepper spray and Hunter didn’t feel sorry for him. He got what he deserved.

  “Didn’t your mother teach you that when a girl says no you respect that shit?”

  “Yeah, man. I know that. But Rochelle said—”

  “I don’t give a fuck what Rochelle said. Use your god damned brain. You got pepper sprayed and probably rendered sterile because you scared the crap out of Holly. Bottom line is, club girl or not, you don’t do that shit again. Got it?”

  Butch nodded.

  Common sense ran short in Butch’s head, but he wasn’t a bad guy. Hunter knew that if Rochelle hadn’t said anything to him, Butch wouldn’t have just followed a random woman into a bathroom. But still… Being the morality police for a motorcycle club sucked ass sometimes.

  He took a swig of the whiskey and slammed the glass back down. As he walked toward the door, Hem pushed it open.

  “She took off,” he said. “She threatened to shoot me if I didn’t move and I wasn’t willing to take that chance because chick is loco. But I used her license plate and found out some interesting info.” Hem was the resident geek, the brain. He spent six years in the Army working in intelligence. Dude could hack the Pentagon if he wanted to.

  Hem was short for Hemene. Hemene Silvereagle from the Nez Perce Tribe out of Idaho. The Army stationed him in San Antonio after he came back from a tour in Iraq. Once he finished his enlistment, he moved to Dallas for work. His younger brother, Kol, followed him a year later. Most of the members of the Knights of War were vets.