by Brook Wilder
He’d been just a young, no-nothing arrogant son of a bitch when he first deployed overseas. Him, Hatchet, and Finn. The three musketeers, they called themselves. Hatchet had enlisted to get a new chance at life, Jackrabbit did it to get the fuck away from his dysfunctional family and because there was no way he could afford college. Finn had done it out of honor, a sense of duty that ran deeper than skin and bone—deeper than blood.
They’d been pinned down by enemy fire. Hatchet across enemy lines, stuck god knows where in the heat of the desert with the sound of mortar blasts ringing in their ears. Finn had been caught out in the open and had taken a hit in one leg.
Without thought, Jackrabbit had sprinted to his friend, dodging bullets and shrapnel to pull Finn to safety. He’d been given the rabbit’s foot for good luck before deployment. In that moment, the damn thing actually pulled through for him. He’d worn it every day since for the rest of his deployment. It was how he got his nickname, Jackrabbit.
Well, that a few other things, he thought to himself, grinning. But then it slowly faded as his thought turned back towards his time in the military. It had changed them all, the war, but it had changed Finn the most. The Finn they used to know had died over there. The man who’d come back was a stranger, and a dangerous stranger at that.
Finn had gotten in with the Roadburners around the same time as Jackrabbit, but things had gone south real fast. By the time Finn left the crew, a war of had been brewing between him and the Roadburners’ former president, Mad Dog.
The buzz of his cell phone jarred him from his troubled thoughts and Jackrabbit quickly picked up his phone to look at the text. It was a message from Harlow, his new second in command. Jackrabbit sighed after reading it. Just fucking great. This was just what he needed to kill his post-Rachael glow.
Cursing under his breath, he quickly rolled out of bed and threw on his jeans and a T-shirt that he was fairly certain was clean. The last thing he grabbed was his black leather jacket with the Roadburners patch emblazoned proudly on the back. He slipped it on, feeling a jolt of disbelief that he was the President.
It had only been a few months since Mad Dog had been killed and the club unanimously voted in Jackrabbit to take over for the old bastard. He was still adjusting to the change but he felt like he was truly where he belonged. The Roadburners were a family. Sure, a rough, bearded, heavily drinking family, but a family none the less.
After getting dressed, Jackrabbit walked to the still closed bathroom door. He raised his hands, about to knock and tell Rachael goodbye. He could hear the shower running, nearly drowning out Rachael’s rendition of The Door’s Light My Fire.
Finally, he just let his hand drop. He turned to leave without saying another word, pausing only to quickly scrawl a note telling her to lock up on her way out. A moment later he was walking through the door, hopping onto his jet black motorcycle and heading towards the clubhouse, his mind already whirling with how to deal with this new problem.
Chapter 2
“Ugh. Oh no, I cannot be getting sick.” Rachael said as she walked out of the bathroom. One arm was wrapped around her still unsteady stomach and the other was busy holding the tooth brush to her mouth, trying like hell to get the taste of vomit out of her mouth. She sent up a quick prayer that she wasn’t coming down with something as she continued to brush her teeth furiously.
She had a preliminary phone interview the next day with a company in Houston and she needed to be on her A-game. What she did not need was putting the conversation on pause so she could run to the bathroom. Rachael had a feeling that vomiting during an interview wouldn’t go over well with the firm that she was applying for. It was an entry level job but it would be enough to get her the hell out of Mayville. It wasn’t New York or LA, but at least it would be a new city. With lots of people who didn’t know the exploits of Rachael Donohue, the sheriff’s ‘troubled’ daughter.
Rachael was so distracted by the nausea still roiling around her stomach that it took her a moment to realize she was alone in the small studio apartment. There wasn’t much more to Jackrabbit’s place than a bed, a single bathroom, and a tiny kitchenette.
She felt a pang somewhere in the vicinity of her chest but forced herself to ignore it. Who cares if he left without saying goodbye? They were their own people. They didn’t owe each other explanations, and that was the way that she liked it.
You know the rules, girl, Rachael reminded herself firmly, don’t get attached. It always comes back to bite you in the ass when you do. It was a sad truth of her life, but she’d come to terms with it long ago. She was pretty sure she was just destined to always be the ‘fling’. And I’m perfectly happy with that. Better than getting my heart broken over and over.
Despite her reprimand to not get in too deep, Rachael couldn’t help but look around Jackrabbit’s room in curiosity. She’d been to his apartment many times, but usually the only place she ever saw up close and personal was the bed.
She rifled through the drawers, but after finding nothing more than a few pairs of jeans and some t-shirts, she moved on. There wasn’t much more to see except for the narrow bookcase that was shoved against one wall. Rachael’s curiosity got the better of her and she bent down to examine it.
The bookcase was as sparse as everything else in the small apartment but something towards the bottom caught her eye. It was a picture frame, and one that hadn’t been looked at judging by the thick layer of dust on it. Rachael picked up the frame, and wiped off the glass to see what it was. When she finally did, it brought a small smile to her lips.
It was a picture of Jackrabbit. He looked so young in the photo but she would have recognized that cocky grin and those sparkling blue eyes anywhere. He was dressed in his fatigues, grinning, and Hatchet stood on one side of him with a big grin of his own.
There was another man in the photo on Jackrabbit’s other side. There was no smile on his serious looking face. He also towered over the other two which was saying something since both Jackrabbit and Hatchet were over six feet tall.
And broad as a four lane highway. That man was built like a brick house with stormy gray eyes that seemed to burn even in the photograph. Those were eyes that commanded attention and Rachael shook her head, wondering who the mystery man was. It was obvious the three of them were all close, but she couldn’t remember Jackrabbit mention serving in the military with anyone besides Hatchet.
She turned the picture frame over, hoping there would be some hint written on the back but the other side of the photograph was blank.
“Hmm.” Rachael hummed under her breath, flipped the frame back over, and dusted off the last few specks before looking at it one last time. There’s really no reason she should know who the other man was. Jackrabbit didn’t talk much about his past and she didn’t ask much either. All part of her motto of ‘Keep things light and easy.’ That was all.
Things started to get sticky when you learned too much about each other, when you started to know them as more than just a bed partner. Well, not her. She wasn’t about to fall into that trap again.
Rachael looked around the small apartment one more time before glancing out of the four pane window that sat above the bed. She knew that just beyond the tree line was the Roadburners clubhouse. She’d asked Jackrabbit more than one to take her there but he kept putting it off. Each time he’d actually have the balls to say that it was no place for a good girl like her.
Good girl like me. She snorted out loud in the empty room. He knew nothing about her and her reputation if he thought she was a ‘good girl.’ All he had to do was ask any of the fine upstanding members of Mayville and they would be more than happy to tell all about her exploits.
Rachael paused for a moment. Maybe he hadn’t known her that long, but she couldn’t help but feel that he was the one person who actually understood her in a long, long time. Sure, her best friend Elsie knew her inside and out since the fifth grade. But even then, Elsie had always been the sweet one, the nice one. Ugh! It
sounded terribly boring to her. Nice. No thank you!
She thought of Jackrabbit again. How quickly they’d gone from zero to sixty, at least in the bedroom department. But it was even more than that. They just… clicked. Whenever they were together it felt right to her somehow. More right than her world had felt in a long time.
The thought scared her a little bit and she forced herself to back up, slamming on the brakes out of instinct. It’s just sex, Rachael reminds herself. We’re just sleeping together. A little fun. That’s all.
But it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else that it really was all about fun.
I’m my own woman, she thought, nodding firmly to herself, I can do whatever I want. Rachael decided then and there to get dolled up after her shift at the coffee shop was over, and go to the clubhouse. Suddenly excited and full of anticipation for the night ahead, Rachael quickly gathered her things and left.
***
“Are you sure?” Jackrabbit asked, directing the question at Harlow who nodded his head furiously. The new vice president of the Roadburners was a small man with a nervous, twitchy appearance that had gotten him into trouble with some of the other members thinking he was a snitch but Jackrabbit had never met a man better at digging up information than Tommy Harlow.
And he was loyal. That counted for a hell of a lot these days when Jackrabbit felt like he spent half his time looking over his shoulders.
“I’m sure, boss.” Harlow said, his nasal voice high but strong as he spoke. “Finn is definitely on his way back to the area. He’s been making stops along the way, sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks. But he’s coming here. No doubt about it, boss.”
When Harlow said no doubt about it, Jackrabbit believed it, but the knowledge didn’t make him feel any better. He’d had his suspicions but to have them confirmed had a slick ball of dread tightening in the pit of his stomach. If Finn was headed back, it didn’t bode well for anyone.
“But you don’t know his plan yet?” Jackrabbit asked, eyeing Harlow and then the other senior members of the Roadburners sitting around the worn wooden table. The clubhouse was already filling up with members of the crew despite the early hour. But they were far enough away from the main action at the bar to speak without being over heard.
One by one, the members shook their heads in a negative to his question until his gaze made it back to Harlow, who wrung his hands nervously before heaving a dejected sigh.
“Sorry boss,” Harlow said. “No word yet about what he plans to do once he gets here. It’s tough getting any info out from his crew. They might be small, but they’re damn loyal.”
“Alright, good work Harlow. Let’s do everything we can to figure out what the fuck he’s planning.” Jackrabbit sent a glance at every member that was seated there. “I know what Finn is capable and it’s not going to be pretty, but this is our territory and we’re going to damn well fucking fight for it.”
There was a round of proud nods from the bikers and they all looked instantly more at ease at his words. He wished it was that easy to make himself feel less like a bug under a microscope, just waiting for what was coming next.
He couldn’t admit it to the others, but he could admit it to himself. He was worried. He was more than fucking worried if he was being honest. Every word he’d spoken was the truth. He’d served in the military with Finn, and he knew exactly what the man was capable. Finn had a mind for combat and a natural talent for violence—the kind that no amount of training could ever instill. He was a natural warrior and an instinctive killer. He was deadly accurate with a rifle and would consistently outscore everyone else on range days.
Jackrabbit wasn’t looking forward to picking a fight with his old friend, but if Harlow’s intel was right, Finn might be bringing the fight straight to his doorstep.
Jackrabbit had only been president of the Roadburners for about six months and though he was doing a damn good job, the confidence of his men was on shaky ground. They were still measuring him up against Mad Dog’s iron fisted way of leadership and the last thing he, or any of them, needed was a battle-scarred Finn busting down the door, demanding. What, revenge? Retribution?
He wasn’t even completely sure. Everyone knew something had gone down between Finn and Mad Dog but there were only two people who knew the full story. One was dead, and the other was in no mood to spill the beans any time soon.
Jackrabbit was still chewing on the problem of Finn, not able to come to any sort of solution when a sudden commotion from the front of the clubhouse caught his attention.
“What the fuck is it now?” Jackrabbit mumbled irritably as he threw an annoyed glare over his shoulder and the direction of the loud noise. He choked on a sharp, indrawn breath at the sight that greeted him.
Shock filled him. He couldn’t fucking believe his eyes but the evidence was right there in front of him. It was Rachael. A very scantily clad Rachael dressed in skin tight black leather pants that left nothing to the imagination and a green top that left a good three inches of her midriff bared for every Tom, Dick, and fucking Harry in the bar to drool over.
Jealousy, hot and sharp, shot through him as he watched several of the Roadburners turn and leer after her as she sauntered to the bar. Rachael was glancing around the clubhouse as if looking for someone but Jackrabbit didn’t notice. All he could see was the lust laden looks that his crew kept shooting her. His vision reddened with anger.
Before he could stop himself, he was charging through the growing crowd straight towards her.
“What are you doing here, Rachael?” He demanded in a low voice as he stopped with just a bare inch between them.
Slowly, she turned and threw a saucy smile over her shoulder at him.
“I told you I wanted to see the clubhouse.” Rachael said with a too casual shrug. “So I thought I’d check it out. I wanted to have a little fun.” Her emerald green eyes looked around the place before turning on him again. “I have to tell you, it’s a little nicer than you made it sound. You told me it was a pit from hell full of dirty bikers and stale beer. But all I see is really just a glorified dive bar. Not all that different from my downstairs.”
“That’s not the point.” Jackrabbit let out on a sigh, barely holding back his frustration. He took her hand in his, led her back out through the front door and into the darkness of the parking lot.
“Then what is the point, Johnny?” Rachael said. There was a bite of temper edging in her voice.
The sound of his name—his real name—on her lips threw him for a loop for a minute. But he forced himself back to the matter at hand. Namely, Rachael in the last place that she should be, looking like she did.
“The point is you shouldn’t be here.” He finally said.
“Why not? I have every right to be here, Johnny! I can do what I want!”
“Of course you can! You can jump off a bridge, or wrestle an alligator, or do any number of stupid fucking things too but I don’t see you doing any of those. Because you have some sense in that pretty head of yours, or so I thought. I told you this place was dangerous, Rae! I didn’t want to put you in a bad situation. I’ve seen how rough these guys can get!” He realized he was shouting and made a conscious effort to rein his frustration in. The last thing he needed was every god damned member of the Roadburners overhearing an argument with his girlfriend.
The thought stuck, repeating in his head over and over again. Girlfriend. Girlfriend? Jackrabbit tried to shake it off but then Rachael was there, grabbing him by his leather jacket and pulling him close for a kiss that melted his anger and worry for her, leaving only an excruciating heat in its place.
It lasted for a long moment, but all too soon she was pulling away. Both of them were panting heaving in the night air as she looked up at him. Her eyes were sparkling like emeralds in the moonlight. “I’ll forgive you this once because you were worried about me.” Those eyes of her grew heavy lidded as she continued, a sharp, cat-like smile curling her kiss-swoll
en lips. “But you don’t get to tell me what to do, Johnny. Not now, not ever. Got it?”
Before he could even try to form an answer she’d spun away on her black heeled boots and sashayed across the lot towards her truck. He didn’t know how long he stood there, fighting to get his body under control. But he knew damn well that he was going to need at least one cold shower while he relived the memory of her sweet body pressed against his as she kissed him. Fuck. Better make that two.
Chapter 3
“Well, Miss Donohue, it’s been a pleasure talking with you. You seem like you would make a great new addition to our team.” The polite voice came over the phone and Rachael had to hold back a squeal of excitement, and then something else altogether as her stomach churned, nausea rising and falling with each breath that she took.
“Fantastic, Mr. Darby, that’s just… so fantastic.” Rachael had to swallow hard to get the words out of her mouth.
