CHAINED: A Motorcycle Club Romance

by Samantha Westlake

  Her instructor groaned as he remembered how that had ground at the bike's gears. Thankfully, he'd also thought ahead enough to pick up a cheap little Honda for Jenna to practice with, instead of trying to put her on his Harley.

  "Maybe we should take a few minutes' break, let some of the adrenaline leak out of your system," he suggested tactfully. "We could go for a walk, and then come back to the bike?"

  Jenna tossed her hair in response, but then gave in and nodded. "Yeah, okay," she allowed. "But don't think that you're going to end up distracting me so I don't forget about this! I'm making it my goal to learn to ride a motorcycle, and soon I'm going to be going on rides with you!"

  Cain nodded, choosing to keep his mouth shut instead of risking any further argument. Instead, he held out his hand and helped Jenna dismount from the stationary mounted motorcycle.

  As they turned back towards his house, Cain couldn't help but shake his head as he took in the changes. In just the last couple months, the house had grown and changed, almost to the point where he had trouble recognizing it as still belonging to him.

  He'd never bothered before with putting in any sort of lawn, instead preferring to just let the natural grasses grow wild and long. The house had risen up from the natural prairie grasses, its bleached wood blending in well and making it look natural. That appearance had suited Cain just fine - plus, it meant very little upkeep.

  But now, the stretch of land in front of the house had been dug up, and small flowering bushes and plants distributed across it. Jenna had even brought in bags of mulch and spread them out across the exposed dirt between the plants. Cain had initially choked at the cost of landscaping, but Jenna leaned in and batted her big eyes at him and he'd found himself powerless to resist.

  As they drew closer to the house, Jenna waved one hand as she called out to the workmen. "Hey Dave! Hey Ryan! How's the work going?"

  The sweaty men in stained shirts and blue jeans standing around paused in their sawing and hammering and glanced up. "Ah, Mrs. Harnen, hello!" they called back, waving back to Jenna. "Work is good!"

  Cain shook his head slightly, making sure that Jenna didn't see him roll his eyes. He'd only exchanged half a dozen words or so with the workmen hired to repair his kitchen, but Jenna had insisted on bringing out cold drinks to them, and she'd committed all of their names to memory. Now, she made sure to greet them and ask them if they were doing all right, and they always greeted her back with beaming smiles.

  It certainly seemed to be helping their work, he did have to admit. The repairs on the house were actually ahead of schedule - a rarity in the construction world. At this rate, he'd have a brand new kitchen fully ready by the end of the month.

  Flowers, a new kitchen, friendliness towards these laborers repairing his house... Cain shook his head again. In the last few months, Jenna had swept through his life like a tornado, leaving changes and destruction everywhere she turned her attention.

  And yet, Cain couldn't muster up even the slightest feeling of annoyance or regret at folding her into his life so completely.

  These days, he did have to admit that he felt a bit like a changed man. He could no longer fall asleep in bed unless he could feel the small but still comforting warmth of Jenna curled up beside him, and she never missed an opportunity to scoot in and press herself up against his body beneath the covers. When he woke up, she'd be there - except for when she rose early and returned, flushed and sweaty from her morning run but bearing two steaming cups of coffee.

  When he roamed around the house, he felt astounded by the murals painted on almost every wall. During her free time, Jenna made good use of the paint remaining in his garage - and she often sent him out on errands to pick up more colors! But the artwork was all over, showing everything from scenes of the bikers, to scenes of nature and the majestic wilderness. Each painting seemed more vibrant and alive than the last.

  Jenna had worked her way so smoothly into his life - but he wasn't the only one that she'd managed to change.

  The rest of the girls in the house had changed, too. He still had half a dozen or so girls boarding in some of the extra bedrooms, but now they all came together for dinner most evenings, sitting down at the dining room table instead of just breezing in and out of the kitchen to grab some food as they'd done in the past.

  Jenna even insisted on holding a big dinner every Sunday - and this stretched even beyond the other girls in Cain's house. Word had quickly spread among the Iron Skulls about her rapidly improving skill at cooking, and before long, Cain found his dining room packed to the brim with bikers, each bringing in a plate, silverware, and a hungrily hopeful expression.

  Yet even despite all these changes, no one had raised any form of protest.

  Cain couldn't protest. Jenna managed to do something new each day that made his heart skip a beat, and even though he sometimes couldn't bring himself to feel thrilled about these changes, he could never quite manage to put his finger on what exactly about them was wrong.

  The other senior officers in the Iron Skulls couldn't protest, either. Jenna didn't pretend to be a member of their club, and there wasn't any rule insisting that they had to keep on holding all their meetings here, at Cain's house. They were completely free to pick another location.

  However, when one of the officers tentatively suggested that perhaps they could try holding a meeting at a local restaurant or another member's house, another officer would simply point out, quite reasonably, that the restaurant's food couldn't match the snacks that Jenna would put out, that other members didn't have the fridges full of beer that Cain kept well stocked and ready for any party, even at short notice. The suggestion would inevitably end up being dropped.

  At least, Cain thought ruefully to himself, the barn was no longer filled with young and impressionable women without homes.

  At first, after they'd watched the warehouse burn down to the ground until there was little left but the metal skeleton of a building, they'd been stumped by the issue of dealing with the girls. With fewer than twenty-four hours of experience since being freed from captivity, most of the young women were still all but paralyzed with fear whenever another person, especially one of the men, spoke to them.

  But bit by bit, mainly thanks to comforting from Jenna and stern, authoritative orders from Cheery, they came out of their shells. One of the younger Iron Skull prospects ended up having some connections to the state police, and it turned out that quite a few of the girls matched descriptions of missing women in the police department's records. While still making sure that the Iron Skulls were never directly involved in any part of the exchange, Cain and the other officers helped hand off those girls to the authorities, keeping tabs on the women until they were certain that the girls had made it back to their families and their old lives.

  No girl left Cain's house, however, until after they had committed a set of ten digits to memory - an area code and a seven digit phone number. Day or night, Cain promised the women, if they called that number and said that they were in trouble, the Iron Skulls would be there for them.

  The other bikers had grimly agreed. At the next club meeting following the freeing of the girls from the warehouse, Jenna stood up and, although she looked a little nervous to be speaking to all of the assembled bikers, she explained what had happened to her in captivity, what she'd been through.

  By the time she finished talking, the entire room was hushed as the bikers listened. Most of them wore scowls of anger, and some of them openly tightened their hands into fists, as though they could reach out and punch James Archon himself for the atrocities he'd committed.

  Jenna finished by explaining just what fate had befallen the man. When they learned that the businessman behind the brothel was dead, the bikers cheered, although some of them darkly proclaimed that he deserved much worse than he'd received.

  "But still," she finished, "these girls might have been freed from that horror, but they're still vulnerable. There's no one else to protect them."r />
  Immediately after she uttered these words, Fisher leapt up to his feet. The young prospect had been warned before the start of the meeting that he was there to listen, not to speak, but he couldn't hold back.

  "I'm willing to protect them!" he shouted out, even as his face immediately blushed bright red as the rest of the Iron Skulls turned to stare at him. But even though blood coursed through his cheeks, the young man didn't sit down. "I helped save some of them from that hellhole, and it was even worse than I imagined. If anyone tries to hurt one of these girls again, well, I'll be the first to fucking kill them."

  Fortunately, Fisher chose to sit down after this bold statement, but his proclamation opened the floodgates. Some of the bikers urged caution, not wanting to commit to anything, but most of them were burning with righteous fury after hearing Jenna's tale. By the time the matter came to a vote, it was clear that most of the men in the room were willing to go to war at that very moment against any army that dared to threaten these poor young women.

  As the girls had recovered at Cain's house, many of the Iron Skulls had stopped by, slipping uncomfortably into the barn, feeling out of place but still determined to tell these young women that they had allies. At first, many of the girls shrank away from these big, dangerous, scary looking bikers, but they bit by bit began to open up in return.

  And in the end, many of the girls ended up choosing to leave Cain's barn - but not to leave the Iron Skulls. They found new protectors, powerful and dangerous bikers who, despite their rough personalities, would never dream of lifting a hand against an innocent woman.

  The first girl to leave the barn, to no one's surprise, was Mika. It had become immediately obvious to everyone that Fisher was head over heels for her, staring longingly at her whenever she came into the room and looking like a moonstruck calf. When he carried her out of the barn in his arms, the young man wore a smile so wide that the top of his head appeared in danger of falling off completely.

  In little trickles, the rest of the young women had followed suit. Some of them returned to old lives, some of them chose new lives with the Iron Skulls, but they all vacated, until eventually only motorcycles inhabited Cain's barn once again.

  Still, the man had to admit that his "family" had grown significantly. Jenna sent out a constant stream of cards and letters, and the biker anticipated that, come Christmas time, he'd find himself besieged by a mountain of cards.

  "Hey! Are you coming?"

  Cain realized that he'd slowed down as he thought back over the last couple of months, and Jenna had moved several paces ahead of him before she realized he'd stopped walking. Now, halfway up the steps to his house, she turned and glanced back at him, giving him the loving smile that she reserved especially for him.

  The biker nodded and quickened his step to catch up.

  "You know, we need to paint this porch, next," Jenna mused, as Cain rejoined her. "All this exposed wood just looks old. I'm thinking a nice white color will really spruce things up!"

  This time, she saw Cain roll his eyes, and punched him in the arm. "You know, if you think I'm overstepping my place-" she began, but Cain didn't let her finish.

  Instead, he swept her up into his arms, easily lifting her feet up off of the planks of the porch as he kissed her and pulled her up tightly against his chest. The kiss lasted several seconds, and he poured all of the overwhelming love he felt into the gesture.

  When he lowered her back down, both of them were breathing a bit more quickly. "Jenna, you can do whatever you want," he promised her, before she could speak again. "And no matter what question you ask me, I'll say yes."

  For a moment, they held each other's gaze, exchanging thoughts that, at least for the moment, neither of them dared to speak aloud. But wordless understanding still passed between them, and by the time that Cain had lowered Jenna back down until the wood of the porch was once again beneath her feet, both of their smiles had settled into deep and lasting kindness and caring for each other.

  Still, Jenna couldn't help getting in the final word. "And to think, I was worried about you when I stumbled into your house," she sighed, shaking her head.

  "And to think I nearly kicked you out," Cain retorted back immediately, before he could think to bite back the words.

  For a moment, Jenna just goggled at him, her mouth hanging agape. And then, she reached out, grabbed his hand, and tugged him fiercely into the house.

  "What are we doing?" Cain managed to ask, as he struggled to keep up and not be yanked off of his feet.

  "We're going up to the bedroom," Jenna retorted breathlessly, still pulling at him, "and I'm going to do all sorts of terrible things to you until you regret that comment!"

  At that, Cain threw back his head and laughed aloud, as his finally found love of his life pulled him into the house they now shared.

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  If you enjoyed this story, check out other works by Samantha Westlake:

  Big White Rider: A Motorcycle Club Novella

  "I stared up at this leather-clad, muscular man who had just caught me in his arms. I felt keenly aware of two facts:

  First, he was the most handsome man I'd ever seen.

  And second, his hands were wrapped around me, pressing against some very intimate places..."

  Deidre Reed is feeling down in the dumps. She's stuck in her dead-end job as a cocktail waitress, she hasn't been laid in months, and there are no boyfriend prospects on the horizon.

  No prospects, that is, until she literally falls into the arms of a handsome stranger.

  But this man, Ellison Granger, comes with his own set of problems. He's a biker in the True Sons - a gang that does not take kindly to women of color like Deidre. They're so frigid towards Deidre, she feels like she's trapped in a blizzard.

  If Deidre wants to be accepted by the True Sons - and have any shot at continuing to see Ellison's sexy, perfectly toned body - she's going to have to pass the True Sons' rituals of acceptance. She'll be tested, both physically and emotionally.

  Deidre's determined. This sexy new man in her life is worth it, she's sure - but just how far is she willing to go?

  Guns & Dusty Roads: The Iron Brotherhood, Book 1

  Kara needed the big, burly biker to keep her secret. She had to keep him happy - even if that meant giving in to his desires...

  FBI Special Agent Kara Sybil is composed, capable, and committed to her job. When a gun smuggling case comes across her desk, she doesn't hesitate to dive in. With help from her biker uncle, Kara infiltrates a 1% motorcycle club, the Iron Brotherhood, searching for clues and the culprits.

  Undercover, Kara's prepared for rough trials, uncouth bikers, and heavy interrogation and suspicion. But she's not prepared to be coupled with a handsome, sexy biker named Cross - who also knows her true identity!

  Cross is willing to help Kara ferret out the gun smugglers, as long as she grants immunity to the Iron Brotherhood for their other criminal activities. But as Cross and Kara become more entangled in their deception, they both start to feel the primal pull of attraction towards each other. How long can Kara hold out, resisting this criminal's sexy masculine appeal?

  The Stolen Girl: A Wild Roads MC Novel

  "Hello, little kitty," the big biker leered at me as I shrank back in fear. His black glove reached out for me. "You're coming with me!"

  When Senator Leonard Sterling comes home from the day's Congressional session, he finds his daughter missing from their family home, her bedroom window shattered, and a spatter of blood on the pieces of glass...

  When Elizabeth Sterling wakes up, she discovers that she's in a cheap motel room. Her hands are shackled behind her, attached to
a radiator, and she can hear the thudding of heavy boots outside the motel room door...

  When Roads, the motorcycle gang's second-in-command, enters the room, he finds that the young woman, forced into a kneeling position on the motel carpet, is glaring up at him. Her beautiful face is filled with fierce defiance as she stares back without a shred of subservience...

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Samantha Westlake has an unfortunate habit of staying up far too late, reading romance and saucy stories when she really should be sleeping and preparing for work. Samantha currently lives in San Francisco, CA. She draws her inspiration from the wonderful people of the city around her, and can often be found relaxing on the wharf, gazing out in the mornings as the fog burns off the bay.