Cole: A Bad Boy Romance

by Hart, Michelle

  Here we go...

  Bullshit like this always happened in Lake Elsinore. The cops were corrupt as fuck. I had grown accustomed to getting flat on my stomach with my hands behind my back.

  They never found anything. But that didn't stop the police department from checking in on me. They were the good guys and I was the bad guy; some things never change.

  I shifted the the stick-shift and my Mustang roared as it accelerated. The wind blasted through my shoulder-length hair and a grin stretched across my face. The police cruiser wasn't far behind.

  I lived for this.

  Even if they caught me, the only thing I had on me was a concealed weapon—my nine millimeter. Never leave home without it. I'd been caught on a weapons charge before but they couldn't make it stick. The county was looking for drugs—lots of drugs; something they could use to take down any undesirable they didn't want in their town.

  I sped up, taking turns hard and fast. My car swerved in and out of traffic, almost tapping cars as I passed by. The cop was having trouble following me. The two-lane highway didn't leave much room for passing. I looked behind me and raised my middle finger in the air. I gained distance some distance and pulled off to the side of the road behind some large bushes.

  My heart was pumping hard as the police cruiser flashed by, his sirens still blasting. I waited in the bushes for another minute as the other cop car came speeding by. The police around here were pretty fucking stupid.

  They weren't going to catch me today.

  I pulled out of the bushes and began driving in the opposite direction. The heat would be on for the next couple of hours until the cops gave up their pursuit. I was on my way to meet up with other veterans and I was going to be late.

  John was going to give me a lot of shit for this.

  Chapter Three

  Veronica

  The Veterans Association was situated in an abandoned business district in the middle of town. . Old muscles cars stood in the front of the building in a nice and neat line. I couldn't keep the image of gross old men driving around out of my head. A cheap big sign that said: VA was plastered above the door.

  I parked my dingy Honda Civic and checked myself in the rear-view mirror. You can do this, Veronica. These guys are no different than anyone else. I darkened my makeup and let my hair down from a ponytail. I inhaled deeply and got out.

  A guy in a leather jacket was bent over working under the hood of his truck. His red hair and beard stood out. He must have been a volunteer or something.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  The guy didn't pay any attention to me.

  My ankles were shaking. I wanted to run away. I hardened my lips and stood my ground. “Excuse me,” I said louder.

  The man turned around and his eyes gazed up and down my body. Maybe wearing a low-cut top was a bad choice. He wiped his hands with an oily rag. “What can I help you with?”

  I pulled out the paper that I got from Mr. Capshaw. “I'm looking for John.”

  “And what business do you have with him?”

  I gulped. This guy was big and strong. His muscles were bigger than my waist—he could probably squeeze my neck until my head popped off. He ate girls like me for breakfast. “Well, I'm doing an anthropology paper and I was assigned this club.”

  The man cocked his head. He probably didn't even know what anthropology was.

  I steeled myself. “I need to speak with John, please.”

  He smiled at me. “No need to get your panties all bunched up. Follow me.”

  We walked into a grand hall that was floor-to-ceiling wood. Pool tables stood in one corner and a large bar dominated a whole half of the room. “Holy Diver” by Dio played on an outdated boombox behind the bar. What was this place? Guys in leather jackets sat on couches while others hunched over the bar. A few scantily-clad girls walked around wearing the shortest skirts and tightest tops. How could they go out in public wearing that?

  “Hey Bryce, go get me John.”

  A young-looking kid with a hint of facial hair nodded and went into the back room.

  I stood at the front and waited, not knowing if I should go further in.

  The kid came back and an older man followed him out. Gray hairs covered his beard and was peppered throughout his hair. His leather jacket had a all sorts of Army patches on it. He wasn't as gross as I imagined.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked, rubbing his scruff.

  “I'm Veronica from the anthropology class. My teacher told me to come and observe you guys.”

  John's face lit up. “So you're the one Mr. Capshaw sent! He's been begging me to join this program for years. I finally caved in when he gave us free tickets to the Dodgers game.” He grasped my hand and shook it. “I'm John, it's nice to meet you.”

  I smiled back. I couldn't believe Mr. Capshaw had to bribe them.

  “So what are you going to be doing here?” John asked.

  “Well I need to observe you guys and do some interviews—see what makes this club tick.”

  “Make yourself at home, Veronica.” John glanced at the bar. “Hey Hudson, get this lady a drink.”

  I put my hand up. “No, I'm fine.”

  “Veronica, if you want to know how this club works then you need to know what fuels it.”

  Hudson was in his mid-thirty's with a bald head and handle-bar mustache that looked way too silly. I wanted to giggle but his eyes told me that would be a bad idea. He handed me a small glass that was filled halfway and handed another glass to John. Hudson glanced down at my cleavage and I felt a little uncomfortable.

  “Cheers,” John said, clinking his glass against mine.

  I hesitantly downed the liquid that instantly burned my throat. I'd only had alcohol at a few parties before so I was no expert, but my best guess was that it was whiskey.

  “Make sure to keep it flowing,” John told Hudson.

  Hudson grunted.

  “Is there somewhere I can sit?” I asked, looking around the room.

  “You can set up shop over there,” he replied, pointing to a picnic table.

  “Thanks.” I stood up and the whiskey hit my knees. They buckled and I went crashing to the ground. John gripped my arm in a flash and pulled me back up.

  “Maybe she should take it easy,” he told Hudson.

  Hudson grunted again. He didn't say much.

  I flushed with embarrassment. How could only one drink get me so tipsy? I walked over to the table, making sure to steady myself. My head was fuzzy but I felt amazing.

  “Let me know if you need anything. I'll be in the back room,” John said.

  I nodded and sat down at the table. Everyone in the room was looking right at me, watching my every move. This place was so intimidating. I cursed Mr. Capshaw under my breath. This had to be punishment for being late.

  “Everyone! This is Veronica. She's doing a paper on us for college and she's going to be hanging around for the next couple days. Make sure she's welcome here.”

  I flushed crimson and gave a little wave, sinking further down below the table.

  What was I supposed to do next? I didn't want to interview anyone yet. I took out my notepad and began recording what had happened so far. My notes were pretty sparse. There wasn't really much to report. At least this was more interesting than the Anime Club.

  I glanced around the room, focusing on the small details. Everyone seemed at ease—not a care in the world. Did anyone have a job? Did they just hang out here all day and drink?

  The front door opened and in came another member. My heart skipped a beat. This one was different: young, brown hair down to his shoulders, a little scruff under the chin, and a long scar over his right eyebrow. He wore the same clothes as the other members: a wife-beater, leather jacket, and blue jeans; he made them work to his advantage.

  This guy was hot as hell. And not at all like I expected. I looked around the room and laughed to myself. John was the only old guy here. These weren't veterans of World War II. They
were just veterans.

  “Did I make it in time, guys?” he said with his arms outstretched in a v-shape.

  “What took you so long?” the guy who helped me outside asked him.

  “Well Wyatt, you know how it is when the cops are chasing you.” They clasped hands and flexed their forearms. They could be barbarians if we lived in a different time.

  “Damn Gunner, you escaped them again?” Wyatt asked.

  Gunner nodded.

  “One of these days they're going to get you.”

  “Not in this lifetime.” They both heartily laughed and slapped each other on the back.

  Gunner sat at the bar. “How's it going, Hudson? Get me a drink.”

  Hudson pulled out the same bottle of whiskey and poured him a shot. Gunner knocked it back and slammed the glass upside down on the bar.

  Gunner threw a glance at me with his dark blue eyes, piercing my soul. My heart stopped and the blood in my veins froze. He was walking towards me!

  Chapter Four

  Gunner

  Adrenaline still coursed through my veins as I parked my car at the club. The cops weren't close to catching me, but all it took was one mistake and I was headed back to the slammer. There was no way I was going to waste another year of my life sitting in a cell. Not after all I sacrificed for this country. If worse came to worse, I'd use my nine millimeter. I swung the keys around my finger as I walked inside.

  Jail was hard but not nearly as hard as living in Afghanistan for four years. The cops charged me with carrying a concealed weapon. The judge wanted to make an example of me and gave me a year. Another year that was lost to me. Doing the year was easy but sitting alone with my thoughts was tough. Having to remember everything I did during the war every night.

  Never again.

  Wyatt greeted me and gave me the usual talk about the cops putting bracelets on me one day. Over my dead body.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone new. She wasn't the usual fare we got here at the VA: shoulder-length brunette, brown eyes, and innocent. You can tell the difference between the bad guys and the good guys—she was a good girl.

  She had a gravity about her that pulled me in. I didn't even wait to ask who she was before I found myself walking her way.

  “Name's Gunner,” I announced. Talking to women was like second nature to me. I could strike up a conversation with anyone.

  The woman stared up at me from the table, not saying a word. I couldn't tell if she was frightened or just didn't care. She closed her eyes and gulped. “I'm Veronica.”

  Her voice was heavenly. I glanced down at her cleavage and felt a pang of desire in my pants.

  I shook her hand and felt a jolt of electricity zap through me. A feeling I'd never experienced before. I'd been with a lot of women—too many to count. But this one was different.

  “What are you doing in a place like this?” I asked.

  “I'm an anthropology major and I'm doing a paper on veterans.” I had no idea what anthropology was but she sounded very smart. Her eyes averted my gaze—I just needed one more look at that beautiful face.

  I put my finger and thumb on her chin and lifted her head until her eyes met mine. I lost my breath as we stared at each other for an eternity. I wanted this woman—fucking needed her.

  “If you need help with anything, just ask me.”

  “I actually need to interview a member—basic questions about the Veterans Association. Don't worry it's nothing too personal.”

  “I could do that.” I sat down across from her. The tension between us was palpable.

  Wyatt screamed from across the room. “Gunner, get your ass over here! Time for the club business.”

  Fuck...

  I wanted to forget all about my brothers and spend forever with this girl.

  I snapped back to reality—why was I letting a woman affect me so much?

  Chapter Five

  Veronica

  I never told anyone my secret. Not even to my best friends. It was too embarrassing—too weird.

  Here it goes...I have never been with a man before.

  I had some boyfriends in middle school but the farthest we ever got was hand-holding. It's not like I didn't want to go further. They were all too good for me. Once I got to high school and college, I was so busy that I had no time to find a man.

  This one just plopped into my lap and I had no idea what to do with him. All that studying for school wasn't going to help me in a real-life situation. Gunner was different than any other guy I'd met; something about the way he held himself. He was cocky and strong—he could get anything he wanted, including me.

  Wyatt screamed from across the room. “Gunner, get your ass over here! Time for the club vote.”

  “I'm sorry Veronica, we'll have to put that interview on hold. Got to go vote.”

  “What's a club vote?” I asked, gazing at him from behind my lashes. The alcohol was still knocking at my front door.

  Gunner leaned back in his seat. “The brothers vote on different issues impacting veterans in the community. Everyone gets an equal vote and majority wins.”

  It was hard to focus with all the desire pooling between my thighs. I quickly jotted down as much as I could. This stuff was actually interesting!

  “Can I come in and observe?” I muttered. I didn't know if I was overstepping my bounds or not.

  Gunner smirked. “I wish you could, honey.”

  Oh my! Honey? When did I become honey?

  “Club votes are for members only. It's a very sacred tradition. Life and death happens in that room.”

  I wrote down all the juicy details he was spilling. I didn't want him to stop talking.

  Gunner stood up. “I'll be back later and we can talk.”

  No! Don't go yet!

  “I hope so,” I replied.

  “Don't worry, I won't leave a beautiful girl like yourself alone for too long.” He winked.

  My cheeks flushed with all the red in the world. Beautiful? What was this man doing to me?

  Chapter Six

  Gunner

  After the vote, I came back to the main hall to find Veronica gone. I asked around and nobody saw her leave. She wasn't the first nice girl to escape when she had the chance. My muscles and inked body weren't for everybody.

  Grunts like me were the bottom of the barrel. Prostitutes and sluts were in abundance—but a genuine woman. They were hard to find.

  A week later I'd forgotten all about that pretty brunette and moved on. My brothers and I were moving on a major deal that could gain us some serious cash.

  John found me in the basement one morning pumping iron on the bench press. “Isn't that too much weight?” he asked, rushing over to spot me.

  I strained as I lifted the two hundred bar of weights above my chest. A few years ago in the army I was only able to do under one-fifty. After leaving the army, I had a lot of time on my hands and working out was the natural way to pass it. Add a prison sentence and weight training was all you knew.

  John grabbed the bar and helped me lift it back into place. I sat up and grabbed a white towel to wipe the dripping sweat from my face. “Where are we with the Russians?”

  John started lifting two free weights. “We have a meet set up with them for later this week,” he grunted.

  “You think they're going to go through with the deal?”

  John strained his bicep as he brought the weight to his shoulder. “Should go smoothly. The Russians are in dire need of cash.”

  “Why are we buying guns? We have plenty.”

  “We need a relationship with the Russians. They're flooding into this town and soon they'll be running it. We don't want to be left out.”

  John's explanation made sense. But I still had a nagging feeling that this was a bad move. But I'd never question John.

  John set down the free weights. “You seen that chick that was supposed to be interviewing us around here?”

  He was talking about Veronica. I hadn't seen her
but she had been on my mind since that first meeting. I shook my head. “Haven't seen her since that first day.”