A handwritten “Help Wanted” sign caught my eye as I pulled on the worn metal handle. The smell of cigarette smoke wafted out as I swung the heavy wooden door open. It felt like an old movie where the music cuts out when the main character mistakenly walks into a bar that outsiders aren’t welcome in. There were a few empty bar tables scattered around and a handful of pool tables in the back.
I took a seat at one of the creaking swivel barstools at least five seats away from the next patron. Every eye was glued on me as I threw my purse down on the bar with a thud and waved to the older bartender. It made me a little bit more uneasy when I realized I was the only person with a vagina in the whole joint. A few of the guys at the pool table behind me nearly broke their necks as I walked in with my tight skinny jeans, pushup bra, and flowy yoga top.
The bartender meandered over my way while I got a good look into his kind honey eyes; his shaved bald, shiny head; and the pure white, long handlebar mustache that rested over his curling lips. His rosy cheeks made him look far more jolly than he probably was. What really caught my eye was the cut that he was wearing. I’d definitely wandered into the wrong bar where outsiders were not welcome in the slightest.
I look a deep breath and reminded myself that I was a tall skinny chick and that my gun was only a foot away in my handbag. After working as a stripper for the better part of five years, I’d learned quickly that I needed to know how to protect myself and to not let fear ever cross my face.
In a slow drawl, his voice cracked the silence, “Can I get you somethin’, sweetheart?”
I swallowed hard before answering, “A bottle of Bud Light, please.” I felt like a mouse would have spoken louder than I just had, but he nodded and reached into the ice trough in front of him to grab my beer.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” His pale honey eyes narrowed; he was studying my face pretty intently. I glanced over to my bag where the only letter that I had from my father was concealed next to my three-eighty bodyguard. He very well could be in this bar or know this bartender. The town was small enough.
I shook my head. “I’ve never been here before.”
“I think I would remember meeting you.” He winked with a throaty chuckle before looking over to help a man in a matching cut that just had sat down next to me.
The newcomer ordered his whiskey on the rocks and leisurely turned in my direction. I glanced at the back of the bartender just long enough to read the club’s name scrolled across the back: The Unacceptables. Glancing over, my cheeks flared red as I took in the features of the young biker to my right. Everything faded into a blurry background when the extremely tall, broad-chested stud smiled at me. His lips were the perfect shade of light red, pierced with two small hoops in the left corner, and even his eyes smiled as his gaze met mine.
“Hello there.” He slid his stool closer to mine.
I shook my head quickly, trying to get my wits about me while his deep blues were threatening to drown me. “Hi.” I sipped from my beer slowly, fighting to hide how nervous I had become all of a sudden.
“Not from around here are you?” The bartender slid his drink in front of him.
“Nope. Just passing through.”
I read the words “vice president” on the front of his cut before I let my mind start to focus completely on how breathtakingly handsome this man truly was.
Slow. Deep. Breaths.
Slow.
Deep.
Don’t let him catch you practically drooling.
Damn, he’s gorgeous.
“That’s a shame.” His lip curled under his piercings as his tongue rolled over the silver hoops gently. “I’m Abel.” He held out his hand for me to take.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Crickett.”
“Wait.” He tried desperately not to laugh as his cheeks got red and his lips pulled up at the corners. “Your name is Crickett? Like chirp chirp?”
“Yep, it sure is.” I rolled my eyes before taking a long swig from the bottle. “I’m named after a damn insect.”
“Who would ever think to name their kid that?” He was full blown laughing now as the hilarity of my unfortunate name really sunk in deep.
“A deadbeat and a hooker.”
The bartender practically jogged down the bar after my name hit the air and gave Abel a stern look. “Table. Now!”
“Everything all right, Bucky?”
The gruff old man narrowed his eyes. “The meeting was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago, son. I’ll be up in a second. Rich is looking for ya.”
Another bartender without a cut on slid behind the bar and all of the bikers filed through a door at the back of the bar. Abel was gone in a flash, without the slightest goodbye.
The young guy—who couldn’t be much older than eighteen judging by his patchy beard mixed with peach fuzz—walked over to me. “Miss? Care for another?” He pointed at my almost empty bottle and I nodded.
After taking a sip of the fresh icy cold amber goodness, I looked up at the guy playing on his phone. “Do you know a good motel close by?”
He smiled, glancing up from the screen. “Oh yeah, we have one just a block north of here, right off the main road. Can’t miss it.”
“Great, thanks. What’s your name?” I felt chatty, even bored, and I was great at flirty small talk. I figured, why not chat up this cutie and hopefully get some details about Abel?
“Me? I’m Holt.”
“Oh crap, I almost forgot.” I dug the koozie out of my purse and placed it on my beer.
Holt’s eyebrow raised.
“What? You don’t want cold hands or warm beer.”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“Are you from around here, Holt?” I twirled a long curl between my fingers and stared into his dark brown eyes.
“Born and raised.” His drawl was thick as he wiped the bar top with a wet towel. “What about you?”
“I’m from a few states over. Making a break for it.” I chugged half my beer.
“Running ain’t always a bad thing. Vilas is a good town. Hopefully you’ll like it here.”
“How much do I owe you for these?”
I bit my lip slowly and watched Holt’s cheeks flare as he rubbed the back of his neck and stuttered a bit. “It was taken care of.” He held up his hand to stop me from taking my wallet out of my purse.
I raised my eyebrow at him. “Really?”
He nodded. “Abel told me to put it on his tab. So you’re good to go.”
Wow. Sweet, mysterious, and hot. I might have to give this town and Abel a trial run.
“Thanks, Holt. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
He nodded. “Hope you get some rest.”
“I look that bad, huh?”
Holt smiled sweetly as he shook his head. “Nah, you just look like you’ve been traveling for a while and need a hot shower and a bed.”
“Well then I look the way I feel. That Abel guy, he’s all right?” I should have been more subtle, but I was worn out and beating around the bush seemed more draining than what it was worth.
“Yeah, he’s one of the best guys I know. Tough skin but a fucking heart of gold.”
“Good to know.” I chugged the rest of my beer and threw a couple dollars on the bar. Holt’s sweet smile spread wider as the guys came back out from the backroom, or abyss, or wherever they’d all run off to in such a hurry. To my dismay, Abel was not in the group that filed back into their bar seats. I waved goodbye to Holt and made my way to finally get the shuteye that I desperately needed.
Chapter 2
Rounding the corner, I saw the neon vacancy light shining bright above the motel’s front office door. The dimly lit gravel parking lot crunched under the tires of my crying car. It was time to put more power steering fluid in for sure. I grabbed the plastic bottle of fluid from the floorboard of the passenger side and fixed the problem. At least there were a few things I could do under the hood of my car to make it run at a somewhat decent level. Growing up wh
ere most of the guys around built mud trucks had its perks from time to time.
Looking around as I made my way into the office, I noticed a few cars scattered around the lot, all with out of state plates. It was nice to know that other out-of-towners stopped there. It shouldn’t have made a difference, but it comforted me to know that other travelers felt safe enough to crash there too.
The bell chimed above my head as I walked into the small office that smelled like mothballs and stale pizza. A sweet girl peeked up from a school book the was laid out on the counter. “Hey miss. Lookin’ for a room?”
I nodded. “Sure am.”
“Smoking or nonsmoking?”
Even though I was a smoker, the thought of stale cigarette smoke embedded in the pillows made me want to hurl on the spot.
“Nonsmoking.”
“All right. I just need a credit card to hold the room. How many nights will you be our guest?”
For not being more than thirteen, she was very articulate and polite. I was pretty impressed by her.
“I’m not sure, actually.” I dug my hands into my pockets; it felt unnerving as hell to not have any plan whatsoever.
“Longer than a week?”
I shrugged. “Possibly.”
“We have weekly specials, you’ll save fifty bucks that way.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
“Perfect.” She punched a few keys on the dinosaur of a computer that was in front of me. “If anything changes, just come on in and let us know.” Her kind eyes and sweet smile settled down my growing nerves as she handed me a key with a giant red plastic ornament-looking keychain on it.
“You’re on the first floor, three doors over on the left.”
I handed her my credit card and license. “All right, Miss Hayes. You’re all set.”
“Thanks.” With a quick wave, I was off to finally lie down in a bed for a much needed night’s sleep, even though it was still the afternoon.
The light shining through the window stung my tired eyes as I groggily started to wake up. I had no idea what time I had actually crashed the day before. I’d barely even had time to turn the lights off before I hit the pillow and passed out, let alone undress, take off my makeup, or look at the clock.
Rolling over, bright red numbers blared eleven fifteen at me as my stomach started to rumble. After peeling myself from the pillow-topped mattress that felt like a lumpy heaven, I dug through the duffle bag that contained my life until I found my favorite pair of jeans and a yoga top.
I glanced at the bright red smear on the pillow from my favorite lipstick and the black dots from my mascara. Thankfully I was not the one that was going to have to wrestle with those stains.
Within minutes the faucet was pumping steaming water into the tub. A nice long soak felt like a dream for my tired body. The trip hadn’t been emotional until it all crashed onto me as I sunk to the bottom of that porcelain bath. I was free. I was finally freaking free, and I felt bad about it.
The image of my mom figuring out that I was gone broke into my mind and ripped my heart apart. But who was I kidding? If she hadn’t started blowing up my phone yet, she had no idea. She was probably still in a haze of meth and booze from another week-long binge.
Right before I left, I could tell that’s where she was heading anyway. It was the perfect time to escape: I would be so far gone by the time she was halfway conscious that it wouldn’t matter.
“Critter!” Her hollow cry came from the back bedroom.
I rolled my eyes at her dumbass nickname for me. Wasn’t my real name bad enough?
“Yeah Ma?”
“Get me a fucking coke from the fridge.”
I grabbed the last can of soda from the barren wasteland she called a refrigerator.
I hurriedly popped the top and walked it back to her where she was laying in bed, sick as a dog from yet another withdrawal.
“Here. I gotta get to work.”
Her shaking hand wrapped around the can as her sunken, dark eyes begged me for mercy. She didn’t have to ask; I knew what I needed to do.
“Yeah. I think Vinnie is working tonight. I’ll see what I can get.”
“That’s my girl. Thank you, Crit.”
“I’ll be back late though. Try to sleep and don’t let anyone come over with you sick like this. I don’t want this place to get robbed again.”
I snapped out of my daze of strolling down terrible memory lane when the sound of splattering water echoed in the tiny bathroom. Looking over the side of the tub, I realized about half an inch of water was starting to coat the off white tiles.
Shit.
I lunged for the faucet, turned off the water, and sunk back in to relax and let my fingers and toes get pruney. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had time to relax like that. The quiet and the peacefulness were almost disturbing. It was a far cry from the cursing, fighting neighbors and my mom hollering at me or moaning in some john’s ear all the time.
Good riddance to all that bull crap.
Giving in to my roaring stomach, I drained the water and got dressed. I laid towels on the floor of my soaking wet bathroom to lap up the water that had spilled over.
I made my way to the closest Waffle House my phone’s GPS could find. Luckily it was just up the road and I had a hankering for greasy cooking and a pot of coffee. I quickly scarfed down some scattered, smothered, covered, and chunked hashbrowns with two eggs over easy on the side and tried to think about what my next move was going to be.
Not having a plan was both liberating and frustrating. I knew that the money I had was going to go faster than I could admit to myself. I checked the classified section for jobs while I sipped on hours-old coffee. I wasn’t really built to be a stable hand, and I didn’t think there was a strip joint in Vilas.
As I was getting up to pay my check, Holt and the older bartender walked through the front door. Holt ambled over to me with a sweet smile on his face.
“Nice to see you haven’t left our little town yet. Thinkin’ about sticking around?” He spit into a Dixie cup and I could smell the wintergreen chew that was wadded up in his lower lip.
I held up the paper and shrugged. “A girl’s gotta eat and there ain’t any jobs here for me it seems.”
“Hey Bucky, aren’t we still looking for a daytime bartender?”
He nodded. “Yeah, the one Abel hired last week quit on me Monday night.”
“Well there ya have it. I’ll talk to Abel about it. Come by in a few hours and we’ll get ya all set up.”
Just like that I had a freaking job in a town I wasn’t even sure I was going to stay in. At least I knew I was going to be able to keep a roof over my head and hopefully finance another move, if nothing else.
UNACCEPTABLE
An Unacceptables MC Romance
By Kristen Hope Mazzola
Available now to order!
Cross Checked
Sneak Peek
A Shots On Goal
Standalone Romance
by Kristen Hope Mazzola
Prologue
Brayden
I could hear the muffled sounds of my mom talking on the phone as the strong aroma of maple bacon woke me up. Within seconds, I was down in the kitchen, listening to grease pop in the pan as she scrambled eggs, the black house phone pinned between her cheek and right shoulder. She smiled sweetly at me, mouthing, “Good morning, honey.”
“I will see you on Monday with those damn papers finally signed and in hand. Talk to you then.” My mom put the cordless back onto the charging cradle on the counter next to her, her dirty blonde hair swept up into its usual low ponytail. I took a seat at the breakfast table and watched her cook as she hummed to herself.
“What has you in such a good mood this morning?” I asked.
With her singsong voice, my mother beamed at me. “I am going to get those divorce papers signed today if it is the last thing I do.”
Her red and green flannel pajamas were starting to fade a
little, but they were her favorites. With my dad gone, I realized so many more things about my mom—the little things, the things that really mattered. The way she practically danced around the kitchen while she was cooking, the way she was always awake before us, the fact that even though she had every reason to be depressed and sulk her life away, my mother took life by storm.
“What are you going to do? We’ve sent them to the jerk at least a dozen times. He keeps refusing.”
“Your sister and I are going up there later today. He won’t be able to say no to our faces. I mean, your sister’s puppy eyes and my cold, heartless glare are the perfect recipe to get him to finally divorce me.” She laughed a little, a silent chuckle that lit up her makeup-less face.
“Do you really think that is a good idea?” Right then, my stomached started to growl; one thing mom was definitely good at was making me hungry as all hell.
She stared blankly at me while portioning out scrambled eggs and bacon onto plates for us. “Honestly, Brayden, I have run out of options.” The defeat that washed over her small frame broke my heart. I knew that all she wanted was to be done with my father, once and for all, but he was putting up too much of a fight and it was starting to wear on all of us. I hated how it had started a rift in the family, but I also owed it to my mom and sister to be honest about my feelings. It was my responsibility to protect them from him.
I sighed. “I just feel like there are other ways to handle this. It is just going to upset you and Myla while giving him something he wants—to see you.”
My mom and I sat eating in silence for a couple of minutes. I hated disagreeing with her, but I had strong feelings when it came to anything to do with my father and she had raised me to speak my mind.
“I have to get ready for practice.” I shoved away from the table. If I couldn’t talk mom out of going to see the jerk of the century, maybe there was hope with Myla.
Unbreakable: An Unacceptables MC Standalone Romance Page 8
