by Marla Monroe
“Well, now. That would work out just fine then because I plan to hire you to work for me,” he said with a leer.
“No thanks. I have a job right here that I like. Now let me up. Now!” Mia put more force into her words this time.
“Looks like she’s a little tease there, Brandon. Think she might need some convincing,” one of the other guys at the table suggested.
“Is that it? Are you just teasing me for the fun of it?” the first man asked, squeezing her waist to the point of pain.
“I said to let me the fuck up. Right now!” She pulled on his hands then used her nails to try and dig his fingers off her.
“Bitch!” he roared and shoved her off his lap to the floor.
She landed hard on her butt just before he stood up, his chair crashing to the floor, and kicked her bad knee. Stars exploded in her eyes as the pain burst through her body and bile rose in her throat. She couldn’t catch her breath to call for help, and she couldn’t get up with her knee screwed up. Mia did the only thing she could do and had done more than she wanted to think about. She rolled up into a ball to protect her head, ribs, and stomach from the man’s steel-toed boots.
The second kick never landed. Instead, she heard a sickening crunch as someone hit someone and cracked a bone. She didn’t dare look up and wasn’t even sure she could move right then if the bar was on fire. Unbearable pain paralyzed her in her little ball of protection.
“Hey, honey. Are you okay? Where did that asshole hurt you?” It was Terror’s voice she heard near her ear. Rage’s voice was deep and promising the man who’d hurt her all kinds of terrible things if he ever saw him in the bar or anywhere near her again.
She kept trying to catch her breath from the pain, but it was nearly impossible. All she could think about was that they would fire her because of this. There would be a huge fight now, and lots of damage would be done. They’d blame her.
Slowly, she managed to uncurl enough that she realized there wasn’t a huge brawl going on around her. No one was fighting or paying them much attention at all. Then she realized why. All of the bikers who’d been with Terror and Rage had spread out and kept everyone from joining in the little ruckus that had occurred in the back of the bar. They’d protected the bar and, just maybe, her, too.
Finally, she looked up into bright blue eyes now clouded with worry. He’d knelt down next to her on the floor. She saw genuine concern on his face and a tinge of uncertainty. On him, a huge, muscular, bad-boy biker, it seemed out of place. It gave him a brief air of vulnerability, but only for a second, just long enough for her to blink and decide she’d only imagined it anyway.
Then he kissed her.
Chapter Four
Rage watched the asshole on the floor slowly get up, shaking his head. As much as he wanted to squeeze the life out of him, he wouldn’t do it. It was much better to keep things low-key and put the fear of The Black Irish Brothers in him than tear up the place and draw the cops into the mix. For the most part, they kept everything on the up-and-up and didn’t want to attract attention.
“This isn’t a safe place for you and your friends right now. In fact, I don’t even think you’re safe in this town.” He watched the troublemaker roll his shoulders and start for the door with his friends hard on his heels.
He nodded at Hawk to make sure they left then turned to check on the cute waitress. His brother was helping her to her feet. She wasn’t putting her weight on her left leg, and the tight expression on her face gave him a very good idea of just how painful it was. He and his brother exchanged glances. With a nod, Terror picked her up and carried her toward the bar.
The big bartender they’d been told was called Duke met them and held out his arms to take her. Terror merely shook his head, pinning the other man with a hard scowl.
“She needs ice on her knee. I’m taking her to the kitchen.”
“No. I’ve got to finish my shift. I can’t afford to lose my job.” Rage heard the fear in her voice. Not from the experience she’d just survived but with worry over getting fired.
“You don’t have anything to worry about, Mia. No one’s going to fire you. The bouncer should have seen what was going on and taken care of it before you got hurt.” Duke nodded toward the swinging door behind the bar. “Ice is through there.”
Rage looked around to check in with his brothers then followed Terror through the door into the kitchen. He’d set her on the counter next to the huge refrigerator but was nowhere in sight. Evidently Mia could read him since she nodded her head toward the back where a door stood open.
“He’s in the pantry looking for plastic bags.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears and gut-wrenching pain. It made him angry all over again.
“How bad is your leg?” he asked.
“I’ve had worse. It’s going to hurt for a few days, but I’ll be okay by Wednesday night.” She looked over to where Terror had emerged with two large ziplock plastic bags in his hands.
“Found them.” Terror walked over to the ice machine and slid the door open to fill the bags.
Rage walked over to where a line of aprons hung on hooks down a good portion of the wall. He pulled one of them off and folded it longwise a few times to use to hold the ice bags on her leg. Once Terror finished with the bags, they worked together to tie them on either side of her knee.
“I don’t think it’s broken,” Terror began. “You were moving it fairly well despite how much it must be hurting you.”
“No. It’s not broken. Believe me. I know the difference. I was telling your brother it will be fine by Wednesday. Thanks for helping me.” She looked from Terror back to him. “Both of you. I appreciate it.”
“Have trouble like that here much?” Rage asked her.
She shrugged. “Not really, or at least we didn’t used to. It’s gotten a little more interesting over the last few months.”
“Interesting how?” he asked.
“We’re a lot busier than we’ve ever been since I’ve been working here. When you have more people crowded together, you have more skirmishes and misunderstandings. That’s the first time anyone’s actually hit or kicked me before.”
He looked at his brother and noticed how he was opening and closing his hands into tight fists over and over. Rage wasn’t too far from doing the same thing. He didn’t like seeing innocents being terrorized and hurt. Seeing the little waitress hurt, all curled up in a ball like that, had snapped something inside of him. He’d wanted to kill the man who’d done that to her.
“Got any idea why things have changed, why there are so many more people around than before?” he asked, watching her face for any sign she was holding back.
When she shook her head, her eyes didn’t shift even a centimeter as if she was trying to hide anything. She didn’t know any more than he did about what was causing the larger crowds. They needed to find someone who did know and convince them to explain it to them. The MC couldn’t afford to be divided with the Vipers moving their way. They needed to get a handle on it and lock it down, and soon.
“With it being your left leg that’s hurt, can you handle driving home?” Terror was asking her.
“Yeah. That won’t be a problem.” She hesitated. “Um, could one of you help me get out to my car? Walking is what’s going to be hard right now.”
Rage could see how nervous it made her to ask for their help. He wasn’t sure if it was because of who they were or just that she had to ask for help in the first place. Maybe it was a little of both. He beat his brother to the punch.
“We’ll get you out to your car and follow you home so we can make sure you are able to get inside.” He saw Terror smile in something like triumph.
Bastard probably thinks I’m in lust with her like he is. Isn’t happening. We have too much on our plates right now to screw around with virgin pussy.
Because that was exactly what she was when it came to the biker crowd—virgin pussy. She wouldn’t last five minutes in their world. The sooner Terror got that through hi
s thick skull, the better. If it took too long, he’d help it along.
“I need to tell Duke that I’m leaving and clock out.” She started to wiggle as if she were about to jump down off the counter.
“Whoa there. You’re not going anywhere. I’ll go tell Duke the news, and Terror will clock you out. Don’t move from that counter until we get back. Understand me?” He stared hard at her, willing her to look away. She nodded, but she didn’t look away.
When he walked out of the kitchen, it was to find Scooby standing at the edge of the bar watching the door he’d just walked through. When he arched a brow at the prospect, the kid edged closer.
“Hawk and a few of the guys are outside waiting. The rest of us are waiting for you and Terror in case you need anything.” He shifted from one foot to the other.
“Have everyone meet us around back. We’ll be there in a second.” Scooby nodded and hurried over to where several of his brothers stood against the back wall.
“Is she okay?” Duke leaned over the side of the bar.
“She’ll be fine. We’re going to help her to the car then follow her and be sure she gets inside without falling. She wanted to let you know she was leaving. She’s worried about her job. That going to be a problem?” he asked.
“No. She’s the best damn waitress we’ve got. Never late, and never calls in. She’s good.” Duke smiled at him then held up a finger and hurried to the other end of the bar where he pulled something from under the shelves there. “Almost forgot. These are her tips from the ones who settled up at the bar. Make sure she gets them for me.”
Rage folded the bills and stuck them down in the inner pocket of his cut and nodded. The place was much quieter than it had been thirty minutes earlier. Funny how they’d sort of cleared out almost at once. Yeah, something was going on.
When he returned to the kitchen, Terror was talking to Mia in low tones. When he saw Rage walking back from the bar area, he straightened up with a half grin on his face.
“Ready to roll?” he asked, looking at his brother but talking to Mia.
“I’m ready.” Once again, she started to slip off the counter, but Terror caught her and effortlessly picked her up, holding her tightly to his chest, then strolled toward the door leading out to the back of the bar.
Rage made sure the door closed firmly behind them and that the lock caught before following them to where she’d parked her piece-of-shit car under a dim light. Looking around, it screamed dangerous to him. Too many places for someone to hide and attack a helpless woman walking to her car at night. Light or no light, the shadows still managed to creep up close to where her car was parked.
She pulled her keys out of the little bag she carried, and Rage took them from her. Once he’d unlocked the car, he swung open the door and checked the backseat to be sure there was no one hiding back there before he stuck the key into the ignition and stepped back so his brother could slide her onto the seat. Then Terror fastened the seatbelt for her.
“Start the car, if it’ll start, then sit here with our brothers watching you until we grab our bikes. Once we make it back around, you can lead us to your house. Do not get out of the car until we open the door. Understand?” he asked.
She pressed her lips together until they formed a tight line, but she nodded anyway. He smiled and backed out of the way of the door. Terror leaned in and kissed her forehead before closing the door.
Their brothers had pulled into the parking lot and were waiting to find out what to do. Rage walked over to Hawk and leaned in to yell in the other man’s ear over the roar of idling engines.
“Watch her while we grab our bikes. We’re going to follow her home and make sure she is able to get inside without breaking her neck.”
Hawk nodded and smiled with a thumbs-up. Terror followed Rage around the club to where they’d parked their bikes. Scooby was straddling his bike next to them, making sure nothing happened to them. He and Terror nodded at the guy before throwing their legs over their machines.
When they returned to where they’d left Mia, she’d started the car and was waiting on them. Rage was relieved to see that she didn’t act terrified of being surrounded by almost the entire club of bikers. For some reason, he didn’t want her to be afraid of them. He shook his head and growled at his foolishness. She was just a waitress at the bar they went to. Nothing more.
As they pulled out onto the street to follow her, he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her to leave a scar on her cheek like that. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit that knowing she’d gotten hurt tonight before they had stopped it pissed him off. She wasn’t anyone to them, but it really bothered him.
The ride to her apartment was fast. She didn’t live that far from The Wagon Master Bar and Grill, which meant she lived in a bad part of town—their part of town. It wasn’t a good place for a woman alone to live.
He and Terror parked right next to her. The rest of the club had veered off to return home. Scooby remained with them but didn’t get off his bike. He just nodded at them as they walked over to help Mia out of the car.
“Thanks for helping me. I’ll be fine now,” she said.
“Give me your keys,” Terror said, holding out his hand.
She hesitated then nodded and handed the key ring to his brother. It amused him to see that it had a lime green Monkey’s Nutz ball on it. If she knew how to use it correctly, it would give her a little added protection. Rage was going to make sure she knew how.
Before she could climb out of the car to stand up, he picked her up, and Terror closed the door behind him.
“What’s the number?” Terror asked her.
“It’s upstairs. Let me down. I can climb the stairs. You don’t need to carry me up.” She wiggled in his arms. Rage just tightened his hold on her.
“What’s the number, Mia?” Terror asked again with lifted brows.
She sighed. “Two twenty-two.”
Terror led the way up the dirty stairs to the second floor. Rage hated that the apartment’s entrance was outside. She had no protection whatsoever like this. When they reached the door, Terror unlocked it, and they walked inside. A flick of the light switch showed a very small room that was neat and clean with sparse, mismatched furniture and a vast amount of locks on the door. He nodded. That was better than nothing.
“Thanks for helping me up. I can handle it from here,” she said, obviously expecting him to put her down now.
“I want to see the damage and be sure you don’t need a doctor first,” Terror told her, nodding at the door by the kitchenette. “Bedroom back there?”
She trembled now but nodded. Rage wanted to sooth her worry, and that rankled him. Instead, he stomped through the tiny apartment to her bedroom. It was just as small as the rest of the place. The mattress on the floor angered him even further. The bed was carefully made, and the room was clean without clothes strewn around or dirty laundry tossed in a corner.
He carefully eased her down until her good leg touched the floor. Then he held her while she got her balance. When Terror reached for the waistband of her jeans, she nearly fell trying to back away from him.
“What are you doing?” True fear lit up her soft features.
“Easy, Mia. Nothing’s going to happen. I’m just going to check your leg. I want to make sure you don’t need to go to the hospital or something. I didn’t want to do that back at the bar though. Now just be still so you don’t hurt yourself.” Terror ran one hand up and down her arm.
“I–I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m fine. I just need to rest it.” A fine tremor had started in her hands, traveling up to her shoulders.
Rage ran a hand up and down her back. “Let Terror check it out, Mia. We’re not leaving ’til we know for sure you are okay. We should have stopped that bastard before he’d hurt you. Let us take care of you.”
She looked from him to his brother with obvious unease but finally nodded reluctantly by the look on her face. She dropped her head and
didn’t look at them again while Terror carefully unfastened and unzipped her jeans.
As they slowly slid down her body to catch where they’d wrapped the ice bags around them, he realized his mouth was watering at the sight of her pale pink panties. They weren’t fancy or expensive, but the delicate color fit her. The expanse of bare skin had him swallowing hard. She was beautiful, to say the least.
Terror removed the ice bags before lowering her jeans all the way to her feet. What he saw then had him cursing softly. She still heard him and cringed without looking at him. He cursed again that she was so obviously afraid of him.
“Lay her down, Terror. Get the pressure off that knee.” The sight of the multitude of scars and the now swollen area nearly brought him to his knees.
What in the hell had happened to her to warrant that much scarring? He wanted to strip her bare and check out her entire body for more of the terrible atrocities to such delicate skin. What the fuck had caused it?
“Easy, Mia. We aren’t going to hurt you.” Terror eased her down and removed her jeans from where they’d pooled at her feet.
Rage gathered up the two ice packs and returned them to her angry red and swollen knee. Terror pulled the top sheet from the other side of the bed and draped it over the lower half of her body.
“Do you have pain pills anywhere?” Rage asked. “If you don’t, we’ll get something for you.”
“I have some Ibuprofen in the bathroom,” she said in a soft voice.
Terror immediately went in search of them. He returned a minute later with a couple of bottles and a glass of water. He knelt at the edge of the bed and handed her the glass.
“You’ve got the Ibuprofen and a bottle of Naproxen. I saw a bottle of Toradol, too. Do you need that instead?” he asked.
“No, the Ibuprofen will be fine. Thanks,” she said, holding out her hand.
He poured four of the little pills in her hand, and while she took them, he opened the other bottle, took one, and held it out. She shook her head, but he just stared at her.
“You need to take it. It will reduce the swelling and stop the pain faster,” he told her.
