Dangerous Surrender

by Tory Richards

  Dangerous Surrender

  By

  Tory Richards

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2015 Tory Richards

  All Rights Reserved.

  Published by Tory Richards

  Tory Richards: http://www.toryrichards.com

  Email: toryrichards60@gmail.com

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

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Cover artist: Lourdes Blazek

  Editors: Tammy Sommervold & Jody Faltys

  ‘Author’s note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.’

  What Tammy Sommervold says about Dangerous Surrender… I LOVED this story it was HOT! Bowie is sex walking and I love the fact that despite what Gwen had recently been through she saw the good in Bowie. These two were burning up the pages!

  Chapter 1

  Gwen

  Damn, I couldn't keep going. Twelve hours straight and I was a fucking accident waiting to happen. It didn't matter how far I went, or how fast. If Greg wanted to find me he would. It could be today, tomorrow, or a year from now. With him anything was possible. It depended on how angry he'd get once he got home and found I'd left him, for good this time. He was an abusive, self-centered asshole. I was a bigger one for putting up with him for ten years. For fucks sake I didn't even have a wedding ring on my finger! I hoped he took my goodbye note to heart because this time I was really done.

  Finished.

  Forever.

  I was over him.

  I pulled off the interstate and into the first hotel that came into view. It was an older run-down place that boasted the name of The Pink Pussy Inn. I was too tired to laugh. One good thing, Greg would never think to look for me here, and he certainly wouldn't be looking for me to be driving an old Buick. He was going to be royally pissed when he discovered I'd traded his BMW, but I'd need the money, and when you are desperate you’d do anything if it meant your survival.

  I parked in the first available spot and turned off the ignition. Then sat there for a few minutes, thinking about what I'd done. His first inkling that something was wrong would be when I didn't pick him up at the airport. I still couldn't believe that I'd taken his car and just left. I'd tried once before but he'd found me almost immediately, because I'd been stupid. I'd underestimated his anger, and his desire to control me. I also hadn't had a plan, unlike now.

  I yawned loudly, grabbed my purse and opened the door. Please let there be someone in the office because I sure as hell didn't feel like driving around looking for another place to hole up for a couple of days. I needed the rest, and I needed the time to come up with a plan that went beyond tomorrow. The car door squeaked when I pushed it closed. I glanced around, noticing for the first time that the place looked vacant, and was dark.

  Relief flooded me when I rounded the corner to the office and saw that the light was on. Upon pushing the door open an alarm went off. Almost immediately someone came out from a back office. I stood there in shock for a moment, disbelieving my eyes. The man was wearing a robe, which he hadn't bothered to tie shut, exposing his striped pajamas beneath. God, I felt like I was in the twilight zone or something. I mean, who ran a hotel in their pajamas?

  "May I help you?"

  I forced a smile on my face. "Yes, please. I'd like a room for a couple of nights."

  "Smoking or non-smoking?"

  Was he serious? This didn't look like the kind of place where anyone would care; much less adhere to any rules. "None please." I began to dig in my purse for some money. I'd used my credit card to fill the car up with gas but from there on out, cash only. Credit cards could be traced. That was how Greg had found me the first time. He wasn't a stupid man. Then a thought occurred to me, and I looked up at the man behind the counter. I was going to have to start being smarter. "I'd like a room in the back."

  His gaze shifted from his computer. "Let me see what's available."

  Really? The damn parking lot was empty for fucks sake, and he had to check to see if there was a room available?

  "Those are smoking rooms," he explained.

  I rolled my eyes. "I don't really care." I just didn’t want to be bothered.

  He released a sigh like he'd already gone to a lot of trouble, and glanced back at his computer screen. "Room 145, at the very back of the building. I'm sorry there's no lighting, we, ah—"

  I shook my head. "Please, it's okay. All I want is some—." I heard a loud vroom vroom from outside, the kind of noise that was easily identified as the sound of motorcycles. I glanced behind me, out of the office windows, but all I saw were the lights on the bikes, and the shadows of riders as they sped past.

  "Do you have AAA?" I shook my head. "That will be one hundred and forty-seven dollars for two nights."

  The door behind me was pulled open, setting off the alarm. Since there was a wall behind the receptionist with a mirror on it I was able to see who walked in. It didn’t surprise me to see that it was a biker, a big, badass biker by the looks of him. He was huge. Well over six feet tall, and I knew that because Greg was a slender six feet tall exactly. This man's stature made Greg look like a man wannabe. I grinned at making such a ridiculous comparison, but I couldn't help it. This man was dangerous looking, and built like he could handle anything that came his way. He looked ready for action.

  Dressed in badass biker attire, was the whole package. Old faded jeans, black tee-shirt beneath a black leather vest that had all kinds of colorful patches on it. His black hair hung below his ears and looked windblown. Or it could be because he was running his hands through it like he was doing now. I watched the tight muscles in his arms flex for a second.

  Nice.

  When our eyes met in the mirror and I saw the smirk on his rugged face I realized that I'd been caught staring. Shit! I was about to glance away when his gaze dropped, and I watched his dark eyes move over my backside. They seemed to linger on my ass, making me feel a bit self-conscious because I knew my old jeans fit a little too snuggly. Greg had complained lately that I'd put on a few extra pounds. When the biker’s lazy gaze drifted back up to mine his sexy, panty-wetting smile definitely put me on alert.

  I forced myself to take deep, even breaths when it dawned on me that I was holding my breath. Only a few seconds had passed but it felt like we'd been scoping each other out for hours. Okay, I was exaggerating but seriously, the man was hot! He was a walking beast. Everything in my body was turning to liquid fire, especially my pussy.

  I shook my head to clear it of my craziness, and began counting out the money for my room. During this whole time the clerk had just been standing there, looking ridiculous in his robe and pajamas, kind of weaving back and forth like a zombie, or as if he was about to fall asleep on his feet. He picked up the money and turned away to put it inside a drawer located off to the side of him.

  "Is there a restaurant or bar around here where I can get something to eat and drink?" I inquired while he was counting out the change. I was exhausted, but I was also starving and hadn't eaten since early that morning. I glanced around the office until I found a clock. It was just after nine.

  "There's the Red Rooster across the street. It’s a bar but they serve up sandwiches and burgers. They stay open until two."

  Great, I could walk over and get a sandwich. I held my hand out for the change.
>
  "Not your kind of bar."

  The gravelly voice came from the sexy biker behind me, and forced me to turn around and acknowledge him. I had to look a long way up to meet the intensity of his eyes, which were dark and compelling. God damn! The man had trouble written all over him, and a little spark of fear uncurled deep inside my belly warning me to be cautious at how I responded. "Excuse me?" How did he know what kind of bar was my kind of bar?

  He crossed his arms over his massive chest. Not an ounce of emotion on his hard, rugged face. "The place caters to the rough crowd."

  His deep and sensual voice sent a ripple of awareness through me that I couldn’t deny. I don't know where I managed to dredge up a tiny smile, my token thank you for the warning. "I can take care of myself." My inner voice scoffed and said, yeah, since when?

  The biker tilted his head and gave me the slowest up and down look that I'd ever received. His visual caress, when he lingered on my lady parts, cranked my libido up to an uncomfortable heat level. I raised my chin, knowing that it wouldn't add any height to my five feet seven inch frame. Jesus, everything about this stranger was making me hot. I wanted to groan when I felt my nipples harden right beneath his intense stare. The slightest quirk of his mouth told me that he'd noticed.

  His brown gaze gradually continued up my throat, to my face. When I saw his eyes narrow I knew he was noticing the fading bruise on my cheek, which makeup had covered earlier. Was it my imagination that his mouth tightened? Then his eyes locked onto mine.

  "Right," he said.

  I turned back around, feeling completely out of my element, and a little nervous. It dawned on me that I was attracted to the man. I’d never met anyone like him before.

  "Here is your room key." Mr. Pajama man pushed a flat, credit card type key across the counter. “If you get anything across the street tell them you're staying here and they will give you a ten percent discount. Please leave the key in your room when you leave on Monday. Check out is eleven."

  "Thank you." I turned to leave, and caught my breath. Badass biker man had stepped closer to me, and I hadn't realized it. His hands shot out to grasp my upper arms, keeping me from slamming into him. I reluctantly glanced up. He glanced down, and then further, to where my extended nipples were brushing against him. Fuck! I actually felt them tingling. The tee-shirt I was wearing did nothing to disguise my predicament but at least he couldn’t know what I was feeling inside.

  He growled, actually growled, before setting me away from him. I opened my mouth to apologize but nothing came out. Thinking better of it I made my escape. Just outside the door to the office I stopped, and sucked in air. I needed to calm down. I recognized the arousal thrumming through my love-starved body. Yeah, you heard me, love-starved. What Greg and I'd been doing the last few years came nothing close to sexually satisfying, and the only orgasms I enjoyed were at my own hands.

  I rounded the corner to where my car was parked. I counted a dozen motorcycles idling nearby, the low rumble of their engines barely drowning out the noises coming from the drivers as they talked, and laughed amongst themselves. Some were smoking. All of them looked like the man inside the office. Even the few women with them looked tough, and unapproachable. I was glad my car was close by.

  "Hey, baby!"

  I knew the comment was directed at me, and glanced toward the group. I had no idea who'd called out, and suddenly everyone's attention seemed to be focused on me. I made eye contact with a few of them, and smiled, wishing that my car was closer. Just as I reached for the door handle a voice too close behind me scared the ever living crap out of me.

  "You alone, baby?"

  "Shit!" I let out a shriek, and spun around. "Jesus you scared me," I snapped, using my car to hold myself up. I glared into the biker's amused eyes. He was younger than me, maybe by ten years, and handsome in a rough, un-kept kind of way. I took a calming breath.

  "Chip has that affect on woman, honey," someone from his group joked.

  "Fuck off!" he shot back with a scowl. By the time he turned back to me he was all smiles again. "Want some company tonight?"

  Well, that was fast. Instincts warned me that I didn't want to insult or piss off a biker, no matter how sweet he sounded. "Maybe some other time, handsome, I've been driving all day and not in the mood right now." I opened my car door, and tossed my bag inside.

  "That mean you're planning on being around tomorrow night, too?" he asked.

  I turned back to him confused, until I thought about my comment to him. Crap! In my haste to keep it friendly, and stroke his ego a little, I'd inadvertently told him my plans. "Ah, we'll see." It was then that I noticed the biker from the office was coming toward us with long, purposeful strides.

  "Leave her alone, Chip," he said as he moved up behind Chip. "Get your pussy from across the street." He began handing out room cards.

  "She don't seem unwilling to me," he responded, crowding me between him and my car.

  "Chip." It was said with a snarl that gave me goose bumps. Even I heard the warning, the unspoken; leave her the fuck alone, in the biker's tone. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was their leader. His size alone would give anyone cause to be fearful around him, and backed up with that sexy, sandpaper voice, he was lethal.

  Chip smiled and shrugged. "Sorry, baby, it's your loss." Apparently Chip didn't feel the same trepidation about his leader that I did. I almost smiled in the face of his bravado but thought better of it. I didn’t want to encourage him. He walked away and I got into my car, shut the door, and started the ignition.

  Room 145 was down and around the other side of the hotel. It was at the very end of the building, into a corner made darker because of a wood fence, and a smelly dumpster. Good, it meant two nights of peace and quiet, just me, a bottle of wine, and my thoughts at what I was going to do next. I was determined not to leave the hotel until I had a set plan.

  I was determined not to make the same mistakes that I'd made last time. I opened the trunk to my car. It was jam packed with everything I could bring that belonged to me. Not much for ten years of my life, but that was okay. The money I’d made off selling the BMW would be enough to get set up in a fairly nice apartment somewhere, and buy what I needed. It would also let me live a few months until I found a decent job. Well, some kind of job. I wasn't choosey.

  Opening the door to my room, I reached for the light switch right inside the door before stepping inside. The outside light didn't come on like I’d been expecting, and I was beginning to think the hotel was set up that way. Maybe the building needed major repair work, and no lighting meant potential customers couldn't see the rough shape it was in.

  The hanging light in the corner by the only window did come on. If this was a smokers room either the last person there hadn't smoked, or the room had been vacant a long time because I couldn't smell anything other than a slight musty odor. A quick glance showed me that the room was fairly clean. I shut and locked the door, and then set my purse, and suitcase, on top of the low dresser. About that time car lights flashed through the sheer curtains into my window.

  Fuck! My car lights had come back on again. That was the second time they'd done that. I didn't know what was wrong with them but if they came on during the night while I was sleeping then I was screwed. The last thing I wanted waking up to was a dead battery. I pushed the thought of karma for taking Greg's car, out of my head. That was the least he deserved.

  I walked back to the door, yanked it open and went to the car. Just as I began to open the door to turn off the faulty switch the sound of motorcycles drew my attention, and I glanced up just as they came around the corner. Are you kidding me? I stood there in disbelief, watching as they continued in my direction. I squeezed my eyes shut, and shook my head.

  Perfect!

  Karma was a bitch!

  Chapter 2

  Bowie

  I knew a runner when I saw one, and that usually meant baggage and fucking trouble. It could also mean the law. A room in the
back, paying with cash, those were obvious signs. I'd bet her car was new to her, too. She might have the right fucking package to take a man to heaven and back but no pussy was worth that kind of hassle. Whoever she was running from was bound to catch up to her sooner or later. My I don’t give a fuck attitude changed the second she’d turned around. I’d taken in the slight discoloration on her pretty face, and looked directly into eyes the color of blue ice.

  The lady wasn't just running.

  She was running from a fucking abuser.

  An abuser of woman, and children, was something that my brothers and I never tolerated. It didn't matter if it was a stranger. If we saw it going down we stepped in. A man didn't put his fucking hands on someone smaller, and weaker than him. Our MC had gained a reputation in town for looking out for the weak, dealing with shit fairly, taking care of our messes, and making donations to the causes that came up. The law didn't step in to our business that way.

  My thoughts drifted back to the woman again. Not a good sign because I was the kind of man who didn't think about women unless I was about to fuck one. My motto of fuck them and forget them, kept life a hell of a lot simpler that way. The woman, the only other person renting a room in The Pink Pussy that night other than my crew, was trouble, and my gut was never wrong.

  I leaned back against the booth I was in, reached for my whiskey and threw it down, trying to get the shape of her sweet, heart-shaped ass out of my fucking head. My cock had jerked with the thought of having those fleshy mounds in my hands, and when I was close enough to catch her scent a major case of lust had slammed right the fuck through me. If I hadn't grabbed her arms to keep her from slamming into me, when she swung around to leave, she would have found out real quick that my cock was hard, so hard that it fucking hurt.