by Avelyn Paige
Taking off my helmet, I survey the two bars trying to decide which one to try my luck. She worked in a bar the first time I saw her, so I imagine she would try her luck here in the way of getting a job again. It was a fifty-fifty chance, but at least I could try again if I guessed wrong.
The first bar on the left looks like something out of the old west. Weathered wood paneling exterior with oddly painted green shutters lining its windows. The bright red of the neon sign spells out Rusty’s over the wooden door. Judging by the look of the place, it’s the local old timer’s bar, which I confirm as two older men stumble out of the front door with an older male bartender, hot on their heels.
“Get your asses back here,” the bartender twangs. “Y’all haven’t paid your tab, and you for damn sure, aren’t driving home in that condition.” I watch closely as the bartender catches up to the men and snatches the keys away from one of them.
“Your wives would skin my hide if I let you out on the streets like this. Y’all come inside and I’ll call Missy to come get you.”
The men obey and follow him inside as I turn my attention to the other bar.
Wild Willie’s according the sign, and it was about as opposite as you could get to Rusty’s. Instead of wood panel, this one was obviously the newer establishment with brick walls and LED lights shining from every single windowpane in the place. The people I watch over the course of several minutes coming in and out of the place to smoke seem younger. I look between the places, before I make the call and dismount from my bike.
Wild Willie’s it is.
Removing my rain gear, I tuck everything back into my saddlebags and flick the lock closed just in case. This might not be the big city, but shit still gets stolen in small towns. Stepping away from my bike, I head towards the bar. Music slowly begins to pour from the place and hits me like a brick wall, once I step inside. The room vibrates from the sounds pumping from the speakers on the ceiling. Black, plastic booths and tables line the room with the bar top seating towards the back of the place. I start towards the crowded bar top when a waitress in cut-off jean shorts, a white wife beater that strains against her big tits, and a red flannel shirt steps into my view, blocking me from scanning the place for Ricca.
“Hey there, sugar,” she coos, with a slight southern accent. “You eating or drinking tonight?”
“Both,” I coarsely answer. It’s been a long day on the road, and I need to eat and relax, before I try to find a place to crash for the night.
“Well then, let’s get you settled at a table and get you whatever you need,” she flirts back while looking me up and down.
Big Tits leads me to an empty booth, and slaps down the plastic covered menu on the tabletop as I sit down.
“Now, my name’s Brenda sugar, and I will be serving you whatever your heart desires tonight,” she says, while popping her hand onto her hip. “You go on and take a look at that menu. If you don’t see anything you like, you just let me know. I’m sure I can find something to satisfy a guy like you.”
I force a smirk to my face, but it’s as fake as her tits. Don’t get me wrong. She’s got a nice rack, but a quick fuck on the side isn’t what revs my engine anymore. If this had been any other time before Ricca fucked with my head, I’d have already shoved her to her knees and given her what she seems to be dying for. Unfortunately, strange pussy was permanently off my menu and no matter how hard she tries, it’s never going to fucking happen. Ricca had invaded my mind and with her invasion, it had put me off other women, until I knew where we stood. Even my dick settled for my hand without her there. It was a one-pussy man on principle, until Ricca told me otherwise. Call it pussy whipped or being soft, but the time she was with me opened my eyes to the possibility that one-night stands weren’t all that special. The excitement fades and so does the impulse.
“Hey, Brenda,” someone from the bar top calls out. “Order’s up.”
“Shit,” she mutters. “I’ll be right back.”
As she walks away, I almost audibly sigh in relief that the one-sided flirting is over for now. I briefly look at the menu in front of me and randomly pick out the greasy spoon meal that will be filling my belly tonight.
Brenda roams the room with a tray in her hand, before coming back over to me.
“You find something that will tickle your fancy, sugar?” she smiles.
“Cheeseburger with everything on it, fries, and two bottles of Budweiser,” I stoically respond.
“That it?” she hopefully questions.
“That’s about all I see in front of me that I want,” I retort. “Make it to-go on the food.”
“Okay,” she stutters, before walking away stunned at my crassness, but her hurt feelings don’t matter one lick to me. I’m here for food, a cold beer, and maybe some hints about Ricca’s whereabouts.
Brenda stops back by with my beers, but she ignores my presence completely, reading my lack of interest in her loud and clear.
I take a swig of my brew, and the cool liquid hits the spot. It’s been a long couple of days on the road, and this is the first time that I’ve stopped for more than a piss or quick meal. A few more swigs later, and a commotion damn near silences the room as a glass shatters followed by shouting. I see people sitting around sliding out of their booths towards the noise. I crane my neck around the corner of the booth to see the fight happening near the bar top, but there’s a crowd gathered around them.
“I said hands off, motherfucker,” a woman’s voice cuts through the room. “No means fucking no.”
“Come on doll face, I’s was just playing around,” a man’s voice slurs, noticeably drunk by the sound of his voice. “I’s just wanting to see what she’s got hiding under that shirt of hers.”
“And I’d like to see what’s inside that brain of yours, Johnny. You’ve been warned before to keep your damn hands to yourself. Didn’t your mama teach you any manners?”
“Willie!” the woman screams. “Get your fucking ass out here, and get this piece of shit off my bar stool.”
Heavy footsteps, belonging to a large man, move past me and towards the crowd that parts for him. He emerges with a man horse-collared under his arm who struggles to break free.
“I’s not drunk, Willie,” he chortles. “That bitch made it all up. Her momma was a whore and so is she. You can’t fault a man for trying to get a free sample.”
Willie growls and cuts off the man’s air even more.
“Johnny Monroe,” he bellows. “If you show your damn hide in this bar again, I’ll let her have a shot at you. Pretty face or not, she’ll knock your ass into next Tuesday.”
He protests as a siren wails from outside the building.
“Deputy McDaniel is waiting for you outside. Time for you to sober up, son.”
Johnny struggles as Willie releases him and shoves him out the door. The flashing blue and red lights of the local police reflect off the front door glass as they barrel into the parking.
The bar owner watches as the officer takes Johnny into custody then stomps back up to the bar as the crowd begins to disperse. My eyes follow Willie as he approaches a brunette from behind the bar. I watch as his arm slides around her shoulders, and I instantly tense from the sight of him touching the woman.
Why the fuck am I reacting this way to a man comforting one of his employees?
The longer he has his arm around her, the more the tension builds in my body. Her face remains hidden as another female bartender joins them in the huddle, comforting her. It couldn’t be her. Could it?
My heart stops, when I realize the source of my tension as the brunette turns around and reveals a familiar face.
Ricca.
My body instantly freezes into place, unwilling to move in case this is all a daydream. Months apart, and her presence still affects me like she’d never left. Her crescent-shaped brown eyes that have haunted my every dream. The perfectly placed curves of her body. Even the scars that dotted her s
kin like battle scars screamed out for me to kiss each and every one of them. She was my everything back when I could call her mine. My beautifully damaged creature. My siren.
Every night I felt her calling to me. Screaming for me to find her. Begging to come to her. Yes, I know that thought is fucking bat shit crazy, but I know what I felt. It’s hard to describe something that has never existed, until she walked into my life. Walked being a relative term that could be used to describe her. Ricca was more like a delicate flower with thorns. Delicate and beautiful, until the need to strike hit her. If you brushed her petals the right way, she was soft and loving. But brush them the wrong way, and she would leave you bleeding and writhing in pain. She was the embodiment of a vengeful goddess, and she was mine.
My eyes stay on her, watching her every move and every touch she is given by her boss. A low growl settles into my throat as the scene plays out before me. It took me months to get where he is now. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. I start to get up and walk away, but she skirts around the edge of the bar, and finally gives me a full glimpse of her. It’s in that moment that I know no matter how hard she pushes, that I’ll never leave. Not without seeing her first.
Years of abuse, and fighting to stay alive dulled her radiance. Yet here, she shines like the face of the sun on the longest day of the year. Her hair has remained long, beautiful threads, but it’s light blonde color has now been replaced with a chocolate brown, which thanks to Voodoo, I now know to be her natural color. The shade of her hair has never mattered more to me than it does in this moment. The dark color encircles her face like an angel’s halo, and I love it. Her face is natural, and lacking of the war paint, that most women cling to hid their flaws. The make-up she wore back in California was her own version of camouflage. It hid her pain, but no matter how much she wore, I still saw through it. She didn’t need it, and seeing her like this was like learning to breathe again after someone stole your breath away.
The lean tone of her body has been replaced by even more beautiful curves. Her hips are more rounded, and her perfect ass teases me as she sashays back behind the bar. The tight jeans she looks to have painted on sends my hardening cock rubbing deeper into my zipper. I try to adjust myself, but even I know it’s not going to diffuse the critical mass situation happening below. As much as I want to rush to her, and fuck her back into her senses for leaving me, I stay. She may not even be mine anymore.
Jealously coils inside of me when a dark thought flourishes in my mind. Did she need to leave me to find herself again? Did this place bring her shine back? How could I take her away from this place if she’s happy here? Question after question fills my head, rooting the seed of doubt further.
Every bone in my body screams at me to go to her, but I force myself to wait to see if she senses me here. The last thing I want to do is to scare her off. Patience may not be a virtue of mine, but I need to take this slowly. I watch her intently as she shivers from the touch of her boss, that I know made her uncomfortable, and my reaction suddenly makes sense. While the others around her may not have noticed it, I did. I spent months observing her and making note of the little things about her. Just like her aversion to the touch of anyone outside her circle of trust. And trust me, it’s lonely in that circle because until she took off, I believe I was the lone male member in the group alongside Dani. It took months for Ricca to be comfortable with me staying in the same room with her, after her time with Twisted Tribe. Those fuckers tried to leave her for dead, but she wasn’t meant to die in that basement. Anger courses in my veins just thinking about how she looked when I found her. Blood soaked everything, and her skin was more bruised than the beautiful tanned hues she sports now. How she survived I will never know. She slept in my bed while I took the ratty couch I had dragged in from one of the outer garages. It wasn’t exactly comfortable with the spring that dug into my back, but she needed space and time to heal. It was the least I could do to I give that to her.
Her eyes remain downcast as she pours a draft beer into a glass for the customer to her left. She slides the glass with ease across the bar top, before motioning to the other bartender. She mutters something to her as she flips up the counter of the bar and walks out from behind it. She starts to walk away, but stops. For the first time since I spotted her, her eyes lift to take in the room, almost as if she was searching for someone in the crowd. She stands still for nearly a minute, before shaking her head in likely disbelief. With one last look around, she stalks out of the side exit outside, giving me my opportunity.
Tossing a twenty dollar bill down on the table for Brenda, I slide from the booth. My stomach grumbles in a mix of protest from the lack of food and nerves, but food isn’t what will satisfy me now that I’ve finally found her. She is what I’ve hungered for the last six months, and will be the only thing that satisfies the gnawing pain inside of me.
It’s now or never, Ratchet. Take it slow, and let’s see how things go.
I stalk towards the side door she escaped from, and open it quietly. I look to the left and find no one, but when I turn right, I see her profile illuminated in the dark by a neon sign above her head. The quiet creak of the door closing behind me doesn’t startle her. I take a deep breath, before I move a few steps closer. Her tall and curvy form leans caressed by the night against the wall. Had I known it was her who was touched without permission, Johnny Boy wouldn’t have walked out of this place. No man deserved to touch her smooth skin. Even me, but for some reason, she allowed me into her world for just a split second.
I watch as her chest heaves up and down in a panicked reaction from her encounter in the bar, like I had seen so many times before during her recovery process at the clubhouse. Even the slightest touch or accidental brush, from one of my brothers, would send her into a panic attack. At first, it killed me to watch her attacks as a spectator, but as she let me in, I became a source of comfort for her. Seeing her like this again, my body riots for me to jump in and soothe her.
Just do it, pussy. Pull the Band-Aid off, and talk to her.
Shrouded in darkness, I approach her, but she hears me and her head snaps in my direction.
There goes quietly approaching her. Smooth move, asshat.
“Johnny, if that’s you, your ass better get to stepping the fuck on out of here. Willie will kill you if you darken his door again.”
“Johnny boy won’t be bothering you anymore, Siren.”
Her body tenses and her eyes grow wide, before she gasps.
“Ratchet,” I squeak, staring in disbelief that he is even here. The sound of blood rushing through my body fills my ears, deafening me, until I get my nerves under control. My biggest regret that I left behind in California is here, looking like he wants to devour me whole.
“Siren,” he coolly responds, stepping into the light radiating from the bar windows.
My heart races like a runaway train, about to derail, as reality sets in that he’s really here in front of me. This isn’t a dream or a hallucination. He stands before me, and I honestly have no idea what to do. Do I run? Do I jump in his arms? Do I do both at the same time? Indecision and excitement battle inside me, freezing me in place. How could one man have so much hold on me?
That question was easy enough to ask, but our past was as complicated as our present state of affairs. He was the man that didn’t even realize how much I cared about him, before he left. He held the keys to my heart, and never cared to even use them. I wanted to be his, but that was just a broken dream left behind in California.
He’s the kind of man who drives a woman crazy from trying to figure out the way his brain ticks. Just like now, my heart and my mind are at war whether or not to be angry or ecstatic to see him again, like two families facing each other on the battlefield. Neither side will win the war without losing something in return.
The panic attack from my boss, Willie, trying to comfort me doesn’t even compare to the cyclone of emotions coiling inside of my body. Part of me
is jumping for joy inside knowing that he tracked me down, but the dark side of my mind is filling my head with doubt and suspicion.
He’s here to take you back to work off your debts to the club.
You don’t know his intentions or his reasons.
He’s here to kill you for betraying him and just leaving.
Give him the benefit of the doubt. He’d never do that to me.
You’re naïve enough to believe that night meant something to him.
Stop listening to the devil on your shoulder for once.
Listening to me is the only way you’ll survive.
My eyes stay trained on him as he shifts closer to me. Each step he takes, a warmth flows over my body in response to his being so near. It isn’t until he’s face to face with me, that I can finally break free of my stunned muteness. His massive body shrouds mine like a child compared to a full-grown adult. He’s always been bigger than me, but now I can feel every inch he has on me. It’s nerve-wrecking and exhilarating all at the same time. His expansive chest has grown since the last time I saw him, and his defined arms look like sculpted cords of smooth marble. If I had to bet, the gym had become his new best friend in my absence. While I’ve never known him to have a full beard, his chin sports a thicker than normal layer of hair. His dark hair is cut close to his scalp, but it’s his eyes that freeze me into place. Their dark, brown hues bore into my soul with every passing second, and right now, they are trained on me.
Fucking asshole. I leave him and he gets even better looking. You have to resist him, Ricca. This isn’t the time or place for this.
