This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.
A Ranger's Love copyright @ 2014 by Kristin Fletcher. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.
ANGELS DIE HARD
Kirra stood in front of the full length mirror that adorned her tiny apartment, and surveyed herself. The uniform for Denny’s Bar wasn’t that appealing or glamorous but at least she had a job. At least she was able to get away from her alcoholic father, at least she was able to fend for herself. She was free.
The uniform was a standard white shirt and a red knee-length skirt with an apron laid on top of it. Kirra shrugged at her own reflection and turned to leave the small apartment. It wasn’t in the bad areas of town, but at least she was fending for herself and her place of work was only across the road.
This was only her second week at the job, but she was doing better than most of the bartenders. Kirra placed her coat on the rack and took her place behind the bar. It was nearly nine and the regulars would soon come pouring into the gloomy bar.
As soon as nine struck, the doors swung open and a crowd of workmen piled inside, their faces sunburnt and their feet bringing in dirt and dust that Kirra was going to have to clean at closing time.
“A pitcher of Bud Lite, Kirra.” Dennis, a regular, slapped the money on the bar as he waited for the jug to be passed to him. It took her just under a minute to fill the pitcher and a matter of seconds to hand Dennis his change.
“Cheers, sweetheart.” Dennis winked before heading off to rejoin his table. The night would usually be quiet; the only real action that the bar got was on the nights that football was on. The crowd gets rowdy when their team didn’t win.
It was nearly closing time when another man walked into the bar. He took a seat at the end and waited silently. Kirra looked around and saw she was the only one behind there at the moment. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to serve the man, he just looked... scary.
He wore a leather jacket, tight jeans and carried a motorcycle helmet in his right hand. He tossed the helmet on the stool next to him, kept his head down and was obviously interested in the coaster that sat on the counter.
“What can I get you, sir?”
“Scotch. Black Label.” The man still didn’t raise his head and his voice was husky, like he’d been shouting an awful lot. It sent shivers over her body like nothing she’d ever felt before and caused desire to pool in her stomach.
Kirra nodded, even though he couldn’t see, before turning and reaching up on her tiptoes to the top shelf for the most expensive scotch. She really needed to get out more if she was getting aroused by a man’s voice.
“Nice ass, sweetheart!” Someone called; Kirra winced as she grabbed the bottle and turned to pour the man his drink.
“Keep your mouth shut, asshole. She’s a lady and deserves to be respected like one,” the man’s husky voice vibrated through the bar and Kirra smiled, her hair covering her face.
“Thank you.” She slid the drink across the counter to him. He placed the money on the bar and nodded his head at her. Soon enough the regulars piled out of the bar and it was just her and the big man sitting there. She grabbed a cloth and started to wipe the surfaces down, humming quietly to herself.
“Have a good night, miss.” The big man picked up his helmet and dipped his head at her again before leaving her alone in the cold bar. She watched him leave and grabbed the mop out of the back of the cupboard. She still had to clean up the dirt that Dennis and his friends brought in with them hours ago.
***
Brennen strapped his helmet into place before mounting his motorcycle outside Denny’s Bar and took off roaring down the motorway. The new bartender in Denny’s was a beauty. He sighed and focused on the road. He didn’t need the distractions if he was going to lead the Red Hearts Motorcycle Club.
Brennen had been part of the Read Hearts for nearly seven years and it had taken him just as long to work up to where he was. The first few years of being in the Red Hearts was pretty dangerous. Brennen frowned as he thought back to his first proper fight with the club.
“Brennen, back up Richard!” Jackson, the leader of the Red Hearts at the time, motioned with the gun in his hand for Brennen to head towards Richard. Brennen yanked his own gun from his waistband before shadowing Jackson.
This was his first real fight. He wasn’t sitting at the clubhouse twiddling his thumbs as he waited for the rest of the club to get back with the good. He was actually here. He was going to prove to Jackson that he was worthy of being in the Red Hearts.
“Keep your head focused, fresh meat,” Richard hissed at him as guns sounded through the empty warehouse. For a second his heart lurched into his throat and his body froze. This was real. This wasn’t the fake guns he used to play with when he was a boy. These could kill.
“Brennen!”
Brennen took a deep breath before standing and pointing the gun towards the crew who were after the club. He heard a bullet whiz past his cheek and heard a grunt from behind him. He could still see Richard in the corner of his eye so he knew it wasn’t him. Brennen flicked the safety off and took off running when Richard ran towards the back door. They had gotten the goods they needed to but another rival club had heard about the lock-up and had tried to take it for their own.
He kept his head up and squeezed the trigger as three men headed their way. He didn’t want to kill them, he wasn’t like that, and instead he aimed his gun at their wrists. If he was able to get their wrists then they wouldn’t be able to shoot.
He managed to get two out of three wrists, but the third man was too quick and somehow managed to get him in a headlock. The situation in the warehouse changed in a nanosecond.
“Call your dogs off, Will,” Jackson aimed his gun at one of the men. The man just tossed his head back and laughed.
“The boy shouldn’t have gotten himself in the mess in the first place.”
Brennen felt the sharp tip of a blade against his cheek and knew if he didn’t react quickly that he would be losing either something vital or he would be dead. Brennen held his reactions in as the man who was holding him hostage placed the knife in the corner of his mouth.
“I think your boy would look better with a Chelsea Smile, don’t you, Jackson?”
“Brennen can take care of himself.” Jackson looked him in the eyes and Brennen nodded his head ever so slightly. He could do this. He’d gotten himself into this mess he needed to get himself out of it.
He took a deep breath before swinging his elbow back and into the man’s ribs. The man gasped but didn’t release his hold enough that Brennen could move. The man holding him took a hold of his hair in his free hand and quicker than Brennen thought possible sliced through one side of his cheek.
Pain blossomed from his cheek, but he managed to kick out of the man’s hold and fall to the ground. His already damaged cheek landed in a pile of broken glass caused by the gunshots. His vision started to go black and within a few seconds he had passed out from the pain.
“Where have you been, Bren?” Someone called as he headed inside the clubhouse. He didn’t bother acknowledging them. What was the point?
“Brennen, you’re wanted in the office.”
“Going.” Brennen headed towards the office with a sigh. He was tired and just
wanted to get to bed. He really didn’t need the hassle of talking to Phil right now. He groaned before opening the door. Might as well get it over and done with.
***
“Another night? I’ve just worked four nights straight. I need a break,” Kirra complained to her boss, Henry, the next morning.
“I’m sorry, Kirra. Jackie dropped out at the last moment. I’ll pay you double.” Henry pushed his glasses up his nose and gave her a pleading glance before looking out to the bar.
“It better be double pay,” Kirra grumbled before turning and heading back into the bar area. Frank—the other bartender for the night—gave her a sympathetic look as he served a woman at the end of the bar. She considered herself lucky that it was only a Wednesday and not a Friday.
Well, that’s what she thought until a group of bikers came in the door, laughing and hitting each other on the back. She looked over at Frank, but he was tending to another table. Kirra took a deep breath and headed over to the table in the corner.
“How can I help you?” She looked up from her notepad and smiled at the sight of the large man sitting in front of her. She recognized the dark hair and gruff appearance from last night. She leaned more towards this man because she knew he wasn’t any danger to her. That was proved last night when he defended her.
“Three pitchers, love.” He kept the right side of his face hidden but winked at her. She was startled to see blue eyes gazing at her. For some reason she envisioned him with dark eyes to match his dark appearance.
“Kirra?”
“How do you know my name?” She was startled out of staring into his blue eyes. The sound of her name on his lips caused that deep ache to form in her stomach and she felt her nipples harden against her white shirt.
“It’s on your nametag...” the man reached up and tapped the small white disk with her name on and smirked at her when she flushed. She brushed her hair to the side and headed towards the bar before making more of a fool of herself.
“Nice going, Kirra,” she whispered to herself as she poured the pitchers. Her body was still tingling from the way he said her name. It rolled off his tongue like the way honey tasted.
She placed the pitchers on a tray and weaved her way through the tightly packed tables, gripping the tray tightly so the amber liquid didn’t spill. She set it on the table and almost made it safely without spilling a drop until she went to reach for one the same time one of the men did.
The pitcher tipped and poured the cold beer onto her shirt and all on the floor. She gasped as the cold seeped through her shirt against her skin. The table had gone quiet when it happened and she looked up to see five sets of eyes on her. Well, on her shirt.
She looked down and nearly cried. Her white shirt was see-through, and showed her pink bra and the swells of her breasts.
“I’ll get you another pitcher in a moment.” She kept her head down as she rushed towards the backroom and stealing a towel from the kitchen. She had to make a fool of herself in front of that man. She stripped from her shirt and replaced it with an old, baggy red one that was sitting in the dressing rooms. She wasn’t sure whose it was but all she cared about at the moment was the fact that her breasts weren’t on show anymore.
She had the replacement pitcher on the table within moments and a towel in her hand, ready to clear up the mess that she’d made, but was happily surprised when she came back to a dry table and floor.
“It was my fault. I cleaned it up. I am terribly sorry.” The man smiled at her and took a mouthful of his beer.
“Thank you...”
“Brennen. My name is Brennen.”
“Well, thank you, Brennen.” Kirra took the wet towel away from him and left the group alone to finish their pitchers. She found herself sitting behind the bar with a book in her hands, but her eyes glued to his particular table.
Brennen would smile or laugh and it sent either a shiver over her body or a warm feeling between her thighs. How could this man she’d only seen twice cause such a strong reaction in her own body?
She squeezed her thighs together by closing time and when the men stood; she stood too and put her book down. She hadn’t been able to read a line.
Kirra faked that she was wiping the bar down when Brennen headed over her way. It was the first time she saw his face in the full light and she was shocked. From the corner of his lip up to his eyebrow was a deep scar and a few smaller ones littered across his cheek.
He smiled at her and she couldn’t help but smile back at him. The scars gave him a gruff appearance but she knew he wasn’t a bad person.
“I am terribly sorry for your shirt. It was such a shame to see you change.” Brennen winked at her and she felt her cheeks flame up.
“It’s fine. Honestly.”
“Well, my friends kept... nagging me to come over and talk to you. I can never refuse a challenge you see.” Brennen put his helmet on the bar and smirked at her.
“Oh?”
“We’re having a barbeque on Saturday and would love for you to come. You’re more than welcome to attend and bring friends.” Brennen grabbed the pen from her shirt pocket and a napkin that was on the table before scribbling a few numbers on it. He tucked the napkin in her pocket before standing and placing his helmet on.
“I’ll be expecting your call, sweetheart.” Brennen winked at her before joining his friends at the door. They proceeded to climb on their bikes and leave the bar. She slumped into the bar stool and frowned.
He was from a motorcycle club. That was never good. Her mother warned her never to get involved with a man from a motorcycle club. ‘Bad news’ she would always say, ‘they play with your hearts to get into your panties she would get told. If that was the case then why was everything in her entire body screaming to her to take Brennen up on his offer?
***
For the past three days she had been thinking about Brennen and his offer. Saturday was tomorrow. What was she going to say to him? Her fingers hovered over her phone as she hesitated about calling him.
Taking a deep breath she punched the numbers in and held the small black device to her ear.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.” She mentally cursed herself immediately after she said the words. “I mean it’s Kirra.”
“I knew who it was.” Brennen chuckled and warmth pooled in her lower stomach again and caused her to clench her thighs together.
She imagined him taking her into his arms and kissing her. His tongue would gently coax its way in and explore her mouth. One hand would hold her head in place and the other would slowly work its way down her side to the skirt of her uniform. His hand would...
“Kirra? Are you still there?”
“Huh? Sorry, I’m still here.” Kirra flushed furiously as she pulled her hand away from her own breast and sat up on the couch she had been sitting on.
“I was just asking if you were coming?” Brennen chuckled again and Kirra flushed. Surely the man couldn’t know what was going through her head a few moments ago. Could he?
“I’ll be there. Where is it?”
“I’ll pick you up at the bar.”
“Okay. Thank you, Brennen.”
“No, thank you. I can finally prove that there is a beautiful lady in this town. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kirra.”
“Yeah.” Kirra hung up the phone and couldn’t help the smile that bloomed across her face. Brennen thought she was beautiful. She squealed in happiness before holding her hands over her mouth. Who was she going to take? Maybe she would ask Frank. Surely he would help her out. She hoped he would.
She opened her closet and surveyed her choices. She didn’t have much to choose from. Maybe she should buy herself a new dress. No, she needed to pay the rent this month with her paycheck. She would just have to do with what is in her closet.
She chose a short, blue strapped summer dress. It wasn’t overly short, it reached just above her knee and if she put either tights or stockings then it wouldn’t be so bad.
Her father would always shout and beat her if she went outside in any type of skirt. If she was caught wearing any form of skirt or dress then she was punished because of it. The only times she ever wore a skirt when she was at home was when her father had gone out on one of his drinking binges. If he ever did find out then she would have been in an even worse hell than she was.
She gave herself a full-bodied shake to forget the bad thoughts her father bought up and the feelings that Brennen gave her. Saturday was less than 12 hours away and she’d yet to ask Frank if he would come with her.
She picked her phone off the couch again and called Frank. She had to dial it four times before he picked up.
“Kirra?” Frank sounded out of breath.
“Did I interrupt something?”
“Oh, nothing important. You know. Shaun can wait a minute.” Frank chuckled on the other end of the phone and Kirra realized she must have interrupted Frank during an intimate time with his lover.
Angels Die Hard: A Motorcycle Club Erotic Romance Page 1
