Too Rough For Love

by Adair Rymer

  TOO ROUGH FOR LOVE

  Steel Veins MC Romance

  Part One

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Adair Rymer

  Special Thanks

  Prologue

  Chapter 1 | Star

  Chapter 2 | Remy

  Chapter 3 | Star

  Chapter 4 | Remy

  Chapter 5 | Star

  END OF PART ONE

  Adair Rymer

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  Copyright © 2014 Adair Rymer

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. They are not to be construed in any way. Resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Special Thanks

  to Amanda for lighting the way.

  to Julie for honesty and levity.

  Prologue

  I felt it through his fingertips, the first time he grabbed me, back when I hated him and everything burned around us. I couldn’t accept it then.

  Then, much later, I felt it again through every raised hair on the nape of my neck as we sped off that final time.

  Hope.

  The low, tumultuous vibrations of his bike pushed their way through my chest. I squeezed him so tight that I thought my arms might cut him in half. He hardly noticed.

  With that shit-hole bar slipping into the blackness behind us and the crisp night air whipping at my hair, I dug my head into his shoulder blades and I felt overcome by this uncertainty. These feelings, they were too elusive to name but so over-powering when they hit.

  It was scorching, violent, dirty joy in its purest form.

  All that had run through my head when they took me; were questions. What is Muse's place? How far away are they taking me? Will I ever see my parents again? But above all was— Who was this man and why did he keep me alive?

  Eventually the questions stopped. Not because I found any real answers but because I started living. For the first time, I really felt alive. It was horrible. I didn't have time for questions because I couldn't control anything around me anymore. All I could do was listen, watch and pray. I don't pray anymore.

  I realized that back home I was always so pent up, so uptight. I felt like I was waiting for something or that I needed to start something. Whatever it was, I didn't have it so I filled my mind and heart with questions to distract myself from this... lingering emptiness I carried around. What time is my next shift? How the fuck am I going to make it through Accounting 2 this semester? What am I at today for calories?

  Looking back, it was all so meaningless. I can't relate to that girl anymore. I used to know her-me, whatever, but now... I'm not even sure if I like the person I became, really, but it does make more sense all of a sudden. Everything is CRAZY right now but somehow it feels right.

  I pretty sure I'm going to die but there's something comforting in knowing that if I do, he'll be with me and that we'll die together. I don't know for certain that this thing we have together, truly is what I want it to be, but for this very moment— this one near tangible second, I have exactly what I've always been searching for.

  His name is Remy Daniels. He's cold, ruthlessly efficient, cunning and scary. He's the worst person I've ever met. My name is Star, and I can't stop thinking about him. I think I'm in love.

  Chapter 1

  Star

  “Star!”

  Maybe if I just ignore her, she'll disappear.

  “Star! Dammit, Star!”

  Guess not. “What?” I slammed shut my textbook and looked up at my aunt over my glasses. It always struck me how wrinkly she'd gotten these last few years.

  “Uncle has been yelling for you to take out the trash.” She waddled over to me expectantly. I didn't budge.

  “I literally just checked them, neither are even half full.”

  “I don't care how full they are! Uncle wants them changed, so get up off your lazy ass and change them.” She grabbed my chair to better prop herself up. Was she really just looking to steal my seat?

  “We haven't had anyone pull up in an hour. I can see him just sitting there by the pumps reading the newspaper, look! Why can't he do it? Or you, for that matter? Aunt Gina, I really have to study for this test tomorrow. Please?” I begged.

  “I'm only going to tell you once more, girl. Go.”

  Fucking hell. They're so fucking lazy. “Fine, Master.” I think the only reason they allow me to stay here while I go back to college is so I can be their personal fucking slave. They still treat me like I'm sixteen. In a year and a half I'll have my Bachelor's degree.

  “Don't you dare sass me!” She shouted.

  She'd better not mess with my books. I've never understood why they were so obscenely expensive. A hundred in change, seriously? I can get “War and Peace” on Amazon for, like, ten bucks. It was such bullshit.

  I walked over to each can. They were placed at the far end of both sets of pumps. My uncle typically sat on a stool right in the middle. A coffee cup—his coffee cup. That was the only new item that had been added to either of these less than half full cans in the forty-five minutes since I'd checked it last.

  “Uncle.” Why was I doing this again? Oh, so I could waste my time, obviously.

  “Mmm.” He didn't even bother tearing himself away from what was probably a riveting article about the ins and outs of harvesting wheat or whatever. I hate Oklahoma.

  I think Aunt Gina did just kick me out so that she could sit down! “Seriously, there's nothing in these,” I said.

  “That dirty, sonofabitch is running for mayor again?! Reynolds is an ex-con for Christsake!” he shouted.

  “Uncle?” He wasn't listening. Maybe if I found a stick to poke him with...

  “Goddammit. Gerry was right after all, I can't believe it. Can you believe this shit?” Uncle had a way of abruptly blurting out while he read the news. It's caught me off guard more than I'd like to admit. I sighed heavily. “What are you sighing about? You're ruinin' the damn paper!”

  What? How's that even possible? “The trash—” I started, but was immediately cut off now that he'd finally turned his attention to me.

  “What about it? Did you empty it?” He stood up and craned his neck to look in both cans without actually moving toward either. “Don't bother, they're not even half full.”

  My expression darkened. He looked at me with defensive confusion. I could tell that he had no idea why I would be irritated.

  “Take them tires around back and throw them on the pile.” He pointed to the two tires that leaned up against the outside of the one bay auto-body garage that was attached to the register room where I was doing my homework.

  And off I went.. His ratty pickup truck was modified so that it was extra loud. I didn't need to turn around to know that Todd was on his way to see me. I did not need this right now. I hustled as fast as I could but the damn tires were so unwieldy that he saw me before I could reach the corner and pretend to not be here.

  He blew past Uncle, who waved, and roared up beside me. Wonderful. How many times do I have to turn this guy down before he gets it through his Cro-Magnon skull? “Hey, Babe, you miss me? Hey, lemme do that for you. You don't wanna get dirty.”

  “Nope, I got this, Todd.” He was right, I really didn't want to get this skirt dirty but I certainly wasn't about to let him know that.

  “C'mon, Babe. It's cool.” He threw his truck in park and hopped out to lighten my load. Todd Habberon. He coaches the boys football team at the high-school he barely graduated from. Real winner. Short cropped hair. He's the type of guy who tells people at the bar that he
was an Army Ranger but comes off as just full of shit.

  To his credit, he was in decent enough shape and took care of the tires much faster than I would’ve, but he was not a handsome man. I've been blowing him off for months now but he just can not take a hint. I gave him some play at Rosco's a while back but it was nothing serious. I was drunk and lonely with some east coast homesickness, some classmates dragged me out and he was nice enough at the time.

  “Hey, so I got us tickets to this faggy concert up in Norman this Saturday, that I figured you'd like,” he said.

  “Todd, I'm not interested. Leave me alone.”

  “C'mon, Babe.” He used what he probably thought was his sweet voice. I hate it when people call me pet names. Babe is my new least favorite. “The fuck am I gonna do with these tickets? It was like, fifty bucks.”

  “I don't know Todd, sell them on Ebay or something. I don't care. I have to get back to work.” I brushed past him and fucker had the gall to grab my ass. “Hey!” I was pissed. He threw his hands up and smiled like he was just joking around, and I shouldn't make a big deal out of it.

  There was a rumbling sound off in the distance, like rolling thunder, but I was too heated to check and see what was coming.

  “How bout a little kiss?” he asked. “I drove all the way up there to get them for you. It's just a kiss. We've gone way farther than that before.”

  “No. We haven't. Fuck off!” I wiped that shitty smile off his face. I could tell he wasn't used to that coming from a little girl. I didn't care, I had studying to get back to.

  “Don't be such a bitch!”

  “It's not my fucking fault that you bought tickets and just assumed I'd go with you. Next time ask first, you fucking asshole.” Bikers started flooding into the gas station. Finally, some actual work to do.

  He growled behind me. “Nobody turns their back on me, Star! Get back here.”

  I flipped him the bird. When I rounded the corner of the building I saw more bikers than I'd expected. Around twenty burly men flooded into our tiny station. Funny, they were certainly intimidating with their beards and tattoos and muscles, but my first thought was that of logistics. Aunty and Uncle's gas station was small comparatively, and out of the way. We could only fill up four at a time.

  We've gotten bikers before, but never this many. A few tough looking ones here and there but it was mostly a handful of middle-aged guys riding those ridiculous luxury model bikes. There was even this one guy who had a bike that had three wheels. So dumb looking. Once, some organized ride with about fifty guys came through, but they didn't stop in.

  This looked like a gang, or I think they're called a club. I really didn't know much about bikers. I assumed these men were all part of the same group because they all had on these black vests with the same patches on them. I couldn’t make out the words on the top patch but the symbol in the middle looked like two downward crossed fists with black wings behind them. That looked familiar somehow.

  I felt Todd's hand wrap around my arm and pull me back behind the store. I thought that this was it. All those denied advances, and finally the tickets thing pushed him over the edge. He was about to try something really stupid. My fist cocked immediately, I was ready to punch this asshole, but he let me go right away.

  “Oh man. This ain't good!” He was peeking around the corner at the bikers. The concern plastered across his face was disconcerting. He was supposed to be this tough Army guy and here he was pissing himself.

  I couldn't help but rib him a little. “Whats wrong, tin soldier? You afraid of real men?” The look he shot me was daggers, I loved it!

  He actually went to slap me but stopped himself. Wow, I honestly didn't think he had it in him. He was a mess and a shitty person but I never pegged him as a man who hit women. He began to say something but couldn't find the words, then stormed off to his truck.

  I couldn't believe that worked, I should've insulted his masculinity a long time ago. And as always, like the rash I get when I wear cheap metal, Todd came back. This time he had a gun.

  “Woah, what the fuck, Todd?” This was way too far. I started backing away. I couldn't think. Was this asshole planning on killing me?

  “Shut the fuck up.” Again he walked past me to the edge of the building. “It's the Steel Veins. I think it's a robbery.”

  “Steel what? Are you talking about the bikers? Why would they want to rob this place?”

  “Your uncle probably owes them money,” he mumbled.

  “What? That's crazy!” Although, when he said that, I remembered seeing a pair of bikers with that same symbol come by and talk to him last month. He wasn't too pleased with the conversation, not that he'd ever feel the need to fill me in on what happened.

  “Yeah, they're roughing him up,” Todd said.

  All I could hear were engines idling, so I pulled Todd to the side and leaned around the corner to see what was going on. Beneath the wall of leather and boots, I saw Uncle curled up, bloody and screaming.

  Aunt Gina had come waddling out to them faster than I'd ever seen her move. She pleaded for them to stop. It was like watching a water balloon rolled over uneven gravel, and when the tree-trunk of an arm sent her sprawling, I worried she might pop. That arm belonged to a giant of a bald man. He had a full head of hair hanging from his chin to his belly button, and he was angry. He looked like the mean biker version of Santa Clause.

  My heart began racing as the gravity of the situation started to sink in. What could they possibly want with my aunt and uncle? Granted, they were petty and annoying but they were also broke and didn't deserve this. Especially not uncle. He's an idiot, but after he had a few cups of coffee, he was at least a likeable idiot. Unlike Todd.

  I've heard about things like this happening on the news and seen it on TV shows, but to see it in person, to watch it actually happen to someone you know... I had to look away.

  And that's when I saw him.

  In the back of the pack, casually on his bike, smoking a cigarette, he looked on with a mix of disinterest and disdain. I could tell that he was only there because he had to be. He looked so out of place that it felt like someone changed the channel on me. One minute it was a documentary on “The Horrors of Gang Warfare” the next it was “High Plains Drifter.”

  Jason Momoa, there, had shaggy, mid length rusty brown hair, a light beard that was less designer and more hard, long riding. He wore the apparently obligatory black vest with patches but over a dusty, grey, button-up collared shirt that was open enough to reveal a light shock of chest hair on road-tanned skin. His thick, faded jeans covered the top of battered, metal-armored, black leather boots. Jason was thin, but muscular, and even from that distance I could tell he was darkly handsome.

  My heart raced a little faster as I watched him. I had to look away again, completely this time. I felt like such a shit person. How could I find anyone attractive at a time like this! It was terrible, I had to close my eyes. I just wanted to not exist. With all the sounds I couldn't keep them closed for long and when they did open... I almost had a heart attack, fell over and died right there.

  He was looking right at me.

  I felt like I started turning blue. My lungs screamed for air but I couldn't get my body to do anything but stare at him. I was a living statue. He regarded me curiously and smiled more to himself than to me, I think. I don't know how much time passed while we just looked at one another but without breaking eye contact or alerting anyone else, he pressed one finger to his lips. Quiet.

  Had I been able to remove my mouth and throw it away I would have. There was a click behind me. Todd had loaded his pistol and leaned around the corner before I could stop him. Jason immediately saw Todd and his expression darkened into a disappointed frown. He slapped the biker's shoulder next to him, held up three fingers and pointed to us. Without a word exchanged, three men took off running around the far side of the garage.

  I was completely over my head but even I knew we were totally fucked.

  �
��Fuck! Hide!” Todd blurted as he shoved me behind a flimsy stack of pallets. I grabbed one of the tires and blocked off the gap between the back wall of the garage and the pallet stack, then slid down behind it, praying that it would be enough.

  Todd ran for his truck. I'm pretty sure the spineless fuck was just going to bail on me but he didn't have the chance. I didn't see the first three shots, they were behind me and my eyes were screwed shut, but I did hear Todd taunt them and I heard what came after.

  “Take that, you faggot biker fucks! I'm a goddamn war-hero, bitch. You think I'm afraid of y—?” First it was the sound of heavy footsteps at an even pace crunching on gravel, then the whistle that killed Todd's bravado. That's when I opened my eyes.

  He was standing right on the other side of my palate wall. I could see him as clear as the rapidly approaching dusk. His sleeves were rolled up to show off his corded, steel forearms, scarred rough hands and of course a large revolver.

  Todd dropped his gun and raised his hands. It was when Todd opened his mouth to speak that Jason shot him. I watched as Todd's head became so much wet confetti. It was the single most horrible thing I'd ever seen in my entire life. I fought down the swell of vomit that cascaded up to my throat and I'm pretty sure I was on the verge of blacking out. There were so many voices after that and my vision narrowed to a pinprick, but I still couldn't tear my gaze away this handsome monster.

  “Oh fuck, Remy. I think Bren's dead,” a biker said.

  “Yeah,” was the only word out of the monster's mouth. He wasn't devoid of emotion. I could see the frayed edges of sadness behind that stone face. If you were really looking you could see it in his thick brown eyebrows, slightly shifted upwards, and the deepened lines in his frown. His body sagged a little as he ran a hand over his face. “Crutch?”

  “I'm okay.” The words were strained. The man sounded like he was in rough shape.

  “It's always fucking Crutch. Heh. What'd your mom feed you when you was a kid, magnets?”