Chaser (A Category 5 Knights MC Romance Book 1)

by Olivia Rigal

  CONTENTS

  Title page

  Copyright

  About this book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Thank you

  Iron Tornadoes

  Chaser

  A Category 5 Knights

  MC Romance novella.

  Olivia Rigal

  Copyright 2015 Olivia Rigal

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to the actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  About this Book

  We roll over. He takes control leading us both to where he wants us to meet.

  I call out his name again and again until he silences me with a kiss and crumbles against me.

  I love his weight on me.

  I love his strong heartbeat against my chest.

  I love his lips on my temple and the sweet nothing he whispers.

  The man has conquered my body but that’s not all.

  To those who inquire about my weight, I says that as far as diets are concerned, I’ve thrown in the towel and picked up the napkin.

  In my small Floridian town, I used to get my share of attention but kept my distance from the men who visit the local diner where I work.

  I knew that playing it safe meant not giving my heart to a long haul truckers driving through my town.

  But no one had warned me it also meant not even glancing in the direction of the sexy members of the Motorcycle Club when they moved in.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Holly, what’s with you today?” Belle asks as she catches up with me. “Since when are you in such a hurry to get to work?”

  I smile back at her. I hadn’t noticed but now that she mentions it, it’s true my pace is a little faster than usual.

  “It’s spring,” I tell her. “And spring does that to me!”

  Well, to be honest, that’s not all. It’s spring and it’s Friday and since the beginning of the month we have a new regular on Fridays.

  He’s this big guy who’s been haunting my dreams since the first time he sat in my section.

  “Spring or Mister DDH?” Belle asks, always perceptive when it’s about guys.

  “Maybe a little bit of both,” I admit.

  DDH stands for “Drop Dead Handsome” which is the nickname I picked for this man. It’s a little lame, I know, but what do you want from me? Waiting tables is a boring job so we entertain ourselves by giving new monikers to all our regulars and comparing notes during our cigarette break.

  Belle’s really good at it but then she’s been working at Trucker’s Haven for a couple of years and probably picked more than half the nicknames of the long haul truck drivers who sometimes ride an extra hundred miles just to see her.

  The unit we share is a stone’s throw away from the diner. A noisy place on the main road but Belle won’t move ’cause it’s practical. No commute. And also it’s perfect to take her extended cigarette breaks with a good looking guy in dire need of some extra TLC.

  Yeah, my roommate’s a bit slutty but, as far as I can tell, most of the women who call her a tramp are jealous gals who just wished they were more like her. A free spirit.

  I’ve always wondered if I could do the same. First I would need to be at least half as sexy. I guess I’ll never know. It’s not a question of size. Belle’s no light weight either but somehow she’s come to terms with it. I have my days but I’m still struggling.

  The thinnest I’ve been in the past decade was still large and that was after one year of intense dieting.

  Since then, I’ve thrown in the towel and picked up the napkin.

  I do get some proposals mind you. After all, some guys do go for the fluffier side but I’m pickier than Belle. Now if DDH were to invite me for a roll in the hay, I would have him out the door and in our tiny love nest quicker than you can say … well just about anything.

  That’s what I would like to believe but I’m not really sure what I would do. I’m no prude but I’m not as wild as Belle. Anyway, dreaming is free and my fantasies don’t hurt anyone, right?

  But DDH is nowhere to be seen when I begin my shift.

  In the booth my fantasy guy favored during his first three visits there’s Volcano, an older sweet guy with a horrible skin condition. Lucky for me, today it’s not so bad. I can actually look at him and not feel sick to my stomach. I put on my best smile thinking about Belle’s number one advice to all the new girls when they start, “The wider the smile, the better the tip.”

  The hours tick away. The shift is busy, the turnover quick and the tips decent.

  On Fridays most men don’t linger. Those with a family want to get home to their wives and kids, those without want to get ready for a wild night out or a full night of sleep.

  When my shift is over, I’m dead tired. Belle will work two extra hours. I don’t know how she does it. I’m washed out. I also feel down. It’s stupid but I can’t help myself.

  DDH is not a regular trucker. He did tell me that much himself with an impressive baritone voice that had my insides melting. For all I know, I’ll never see him again ’cause his landing in my diner three weeks in a row was a fluke.

  Oh well, it’s silly to be blue about this. It will pass. I always feel better after showering the smell of food away, taking a nap, and then painting the town red with Belle. Yeah, it’s Friday and on Friday nights our favorite hangout has live country music.

  A little dancing will sure do me good.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “You’re looking good sister,” Belle says as she slides in our tiny bathroom to put the final touch on her makeup.

  I’m looking as good as I can with black jeans tucked into my western boots and a flowing red camisole that shows off my best features. I’ve let my hair escape from the prison of its ponytail and black curls are cascading around my face all the way to my shoulders.

  The face staring back at me in the mirror is round and cute, not stunning but pleasant. I kiss the tissue paper to absorb the extra color on my lips and add gloss.

  I blow myself a kiss and move over to let Belle stand in front of the mirror.

  “You’re not looking half bad yourself,” I say at her reflection as she stretches her lips to draw their contour with a red pen. Watching her apply her make-up fascinates me. She’s got the technique of a pro. When done with her mouth, she dashes a bit of blush and draws perfect black lines with her pencil over and under her eyes.

  I’m a bit jealous. Every time I try to do it I end up with a raccoon look. She says all I need to do is practice, but who has the time? I’m leaving the room when she says, “Guess who came in right after you left?”

  “Dave?” I sound as disgusted as I feel. My ex is a real pain in the butt.

  “As if I would ever mention that loser!” Belle laughs. “I’m so happy you dumped his sorry cheating ass.”

  I laugh as well and walk to my bedroom to catch my raincoat and my purse. In hindsight showing him the door had been a glorious moment.

  “Ready?”

  Belle is right behind me as I open the door. She’s impatient to tell me her news. “Do
n’t you wanna know?”

  “Sure, but I’m not playing twenty questions. I have no clue.”

  “DDH,” she yelps. “He walked in, looked around but didn’t stay. I’d say he was looking for you.”

  I don’t answer but I feel my lips spreading into an ear-to-ear grin. So I hadn’t imagined it, he’s into me. I take a big breath and walk a little prouder. Sure, I did swear to myself that I wouldn’t fall for one of those absentee lovers but this is plain lust and for every single rule there is at least one exception.

  We drive to our usual hangout with the windows open, I try to pay attention to the road while Belle fills my ears with her endless chatter. She fumbles with the radio buttons looking for a country music channel with a song she likes and then sets the sound to eardrum blasting level.

  As I drive through the parking lot of the bar, she suddenly stops singing along and yells to cover the sound of the radio “Oh, this is going to be a fun night!”

  Belle turns around in her seat to count the dozen bikes parked right next to the bar while I drive in an empty spot almost across from the door.

  Belle’s a Sons of Anarchy fan. She’s got a biker fantasy and may get to live it since we now have our very own local Motorcycle Club. Rumor has it that an MC purchased the old Macmillan farmhouse. According to local gossip, they’re called the Category Five Knights and have chapters all around the south.

  “Go get’em tiger,” I taunt her as she jumps out of the car. She sways in the direction of the main door. A handful of men in black leathers are standing there enjoying a smoke and a beer. Their eyes lock on her hips and they whistle as she walks closer. I’m staying a few steps behind wondering what it feels like to be her.

  I’m no longer sure I wanna know when one of the men catches her by the waist and pulls her to him.

  He looks fierce but Belle’s not letting that intimidate her. Not my Belle, she’s got more balls than most guys I know.

  “Wanna dance?” she purrs at him. “Come look for me inside later big boy, you know, when the music is slow and maybe, if I’m in the mood, I’ll let you rub against me.”

  The man frowns and I catch my breath.

  Oh Belle, what trouble did you get into?

  But then he guffaws and all the other guys take his cue, laughing their heart out.

  “That one’s a pistol,” one the men says.

  “I bet she’s wild in the sack too,” another adds.

  “Run kitten! I’ll catch up with you later.” Letting go of her, the man turns around to look at me. “And what do we have here?”

  I don’t have half of Belle’s courage so instead of looking into his eyes in an attempt to stare him down, I lower my head and keep on walking as if I hadn’t heard him.

  From the corner of my eyes, I see one arm reach out for me and, before I have the time to react, a powerful hand catches it by the wrist and twists in an un-natural position.

  “Hands off Bro’, that one is mine!”

  The voice is familiar but I can’t place. Curiosity gets the better of me and gives me the courage to look up.

  Oh fuck me sideways!

  My knight in shining armor is none other than Mr. DDH.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Sorry, Chaser, I had no way to know.”

  “No harm done, bro’, as long as you remember she’s off limits, we’re all good.”

  My magnanimous hero is sporting a leather jacket with all sorts of patches on it. I want to read what’s on them but I’m distracted. The man is amazingly hot.

  So hot I think my panties are starting to melt.

  And then they actually catch on fire when he grabs me by the waist and pulls me against him so tight that I quickly feel the effect that I have on him.

  “Holly and I have a date tonight, right sweetheart?”

  I nod like one of those idiotic dashboard dogs.

  “Go get this party started!” Chaser says. What type of name is that? He pulls me away from the door passage and sends his buddies away saying, “I’ll catch up with you in a bit. Holly and I need to get a little better acquainted.”

  For a second I wonder if I’m dreaming but there’s no need for me to ask someone to pinch me, Chaser is doing a very nice job of it. He’s holding on to me so tightly that I wonder if I’ll have bruises for days where his fingers dig into my hips.

  Strangely enough I don’t mind at all.

  As the others get through the door Chaser takes me a little further away from the door and pushes me against the wall.

  “You see what you do to me?” he says pushing his hips against mine. I laugh, the man is as subtle as a rhino in heat. But then again, when he smiles it does something to my heart. I love the sexy little lines that appear by the corner of his eyes.

  I nod and my traitorous hips push forward of their own accord.

  The corners of his lips twitch. The are tiny little lines there as well. Cute lines that I no longer see because his lips are on mine and they taste delicious; sweet as honey.

  His hand fists my hair and pulls until my head is tilted sideways at the angle he wants. The angle he needs to push further his exploration. The tingling on my hair makes me moan and, as I do, I let him in. He takes possession of my mouth and I surrender with so much joy I may actually be purring. Then his hand leaves my hair and caresses my cheek so softly that I forget to breathe. The tenderness of the gesture is heart melting.

  The magic of the moment is broken by cat calls.

  “Hey Prez, can we sell tickets to this show?”

  Chaser ends the kiss and pulls away slowly. My cheeks feel so warm I must be crimson. His eyes, shiny like two onyx marbles, remain planted on mine as he yells to the attention of the intruders, “Beat it assholes!”

  There’s some grumbling and comments about someone losing their sense of humor and then silence again.

  “Let’s get in there,” he says pulling me behind him as he walks around the corner of the building into the dark alley.

  I freeze.

  “What?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up as if not following him blindly was some sort of insult to his manhood.

  “I’m not going into Fucking Alley,” I protest.

  He laughs and says, “And I thought you were all prim and proper!”

  I didn’t think my cheeks could get any warmer but they do and I shake my head. Pointing at the dark passage between the bar and the next building.

  “I didn’t make up that stupid name!”

  Chaser gets it now.

  I’m not cussing but just calling the dark pathway by its name.

  All towns have one.

  If they’re fancy it’s called something sweet like Lover’s Lane.

  But this is no classy place so we call it Fucking Alley.

  Most of the neighborhood kids lose their virginity here and that sucks big time ‘cause it smells of beer and piss.

  How do I know?

  I’ve been there. We all have.

  I let some idiots kiss and grope me in the alley when I was a teenager. At the time I thought it was kinda cool but it never went further than heavy petting. I had enough self respect not to have sex there. I’m not about to start now.

  Chaser shakes his head at me and laughs.

  I try to pull away and he laughs even harder. So hard, tears are pouring out of his eyes and he lets go of my hand to press both of his on his knees for support.

  What’s so funny? The fact that I thought he wanted to do me in the alley? As I watch him laugh, I don’t know what to think anymore. Has he been playing some awful joke on me?

  I don’t understand and I hate it. I feel water pooling from my eyes and I certainly won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry so, holding my head as high as I can, I walk away and into the bar.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The place is packed. It always is on Fridays but tonight the crowd is more compact than usual and there’s electricity in the air.

  The bikers are a new addition to the mix and, in a
small town like ours, it causes a serious reshuffling of the cards.

  All the women in the room are studying the newcomers shamelessly.

  The only difference between the single girls and those who came with a date is that the later are trying to be more discreet about it. Trying but failing because most of the bikers are smoking hot, well, for those who like the bad boy look.

  And, guess what, I’m one of those.

  The bikers act as if they’re right at home and that makes most of the regulars nervous as hell.

  I look around and remember how my grandfather always said that anytime a new horse is brought into a field the addition shifts the equilibrium of the pack. With the arrival of the new animal, strengths are re-tested until the new hierarchy is established.

  There’s not much difference between horses and men. The previous balance found between truckers and farmers is threatened by the mere presence of the bikers.

  There’s fear in the owner’s eyes. He’s standing next to the bar and keeps glancing at a table in the back. I follow his gaze. Danny, the assistant sheriff and two other cops in uniform are sitting in the far corner studying the crowd while having a drink.

  If this gets nasty, three won’t cut it.

  I scan the rest of the room and see Belle. She’s waving at me from a table she’s sharing with another girl from work and the girl’s husband.

  This is our lucky night. The table is next to the dance floor and close enough to the small stage where the band is about to play. I wave back and work my way through the little passage between the tables to get to her.

  Until I bump into Dave.

  “Hey Pumpkin,” he says with his most cajoling voice. “It’s so good to see you again. Where have you been hiding?”

  I stare at him and wonder what I used to see in him. Was it only two weeks ago?

  Did I ever think I was in love with him? Nah, no way.

  Or, if I did, I’m sure over it. Right now I can’t look at him without remembering his face when I walked in on him and Marjory. They were at it doggy style and Dave was smacking her bony ass calling her all sorts of weird names.