Tempted: Reckless MC Opey Texas Chapter

by KB Winters

  “Good. Because that would have made the next few days a little awkward.”

  Cruz flashed another gorgeous grin and stepped into a pair of plain gray boxer briefs that made me turn away like a prude. “Take any bed you’d like. This one and that one are being used now. That might change in a few days though.”

  This room held five bunks, none of which were actual bunk beds, thank goodness. I chose the one with the least amount of crap on it and dropped my bags right on top. There was no bedding, which made me happy for the shopping trip I’d made a couple hours before I made it to The Hardtail Ranch.

  In anticipation of Gunnar’s rejection, I’d stocked up on camping supplies while passing through Dallas. The best way to stay off the grid was to go all the way off the grid, an unappealing plan that I still couldn’t dismiss outright.

  “Thanks. What do you do around here, Cruz?” I hadn’t taken much time to look around, but I’d done a quick search on the place before I arrived. I knew it was a working ranch. “You look like a cowboy but everything about you screams military.”

  “Even the beard?” He stroked the sculpted honey blond hair on his face with a smile.

  “Especially the beard. The first signs of someone fresh from the military is either facial hair or long hair. The beard does not scream cowboy though.”

  His smile was somehow boyish but also gorgeous. “That’s ‘cause I’m not a cowboy. Not yet anyway.”

  “Other than a vet, what are you?”

  Cruz shrugged. “Trying to figure that part out. All the guys here so far are vets. My superior officer knows Gunnar and said he’d told him Hardtail Ranch was a place a vet could go to figure his shit out. So here I am.”

  “That sounds… oddly nice for the perpetual asshole named Gunner that I know.” It was completely out of character for him, then again I’d seen him be nice and sweet to Maisie, his motorcycle club, and even Vivi and Moon. Maybe it was just me who brought out the asshole in him. Wouldn’t be the first time. “Nice.”

  Cruz’s deep chuckle bounced around the empty walls and open windows. “You’re safe, darlin’.”

  Realizing he must’ve taken my tone as something else, I rushed to correct him. “I’m not worried about my safety Cruz. The guy you described sounds nothing like the Gunnar I know is all.”

  “Then I hope you get to meet the guy I know.” His words were sincere, and I knew that despite whatever problems he had, Cruz seemed like one of the good ones. There weren’t many of ’em out there, which made it easy to spot them when you found one.

  “I’m glad you have a soft place to land Cruz, but I won’t be here long enough for that. In fact, I better get to it.”

  He nodded his understanding but there was a hint of something in his eyes I refused to think too long about. He had his opinion of Gunnar, and I had mine. End of story.

  “The chow hall is on the other side of this wall. Miss Martha does breakfast and supper for the ranch hands at seven and four.”

  “Thanks Cruz.” I turned to give the man enough privacy that he could finish dressing and when I turned back he was gone, which made it the perfect time to grab a shower. Unlike my roomie, I brought my clothes into the bathroom with me. In fact, all of my belongings came into the bathroom with me.

  What could I say? I had trust issues.

  ***

  Three days of Gunnar’s attempt at hospitality and I still didn’t know what the hell I was going to do. There were plenty of plans jotted down but none of them were long-term options. Some required more time to plan than I had and others were more suited to someone hiding out from local cops, not the U.S. government and certainly not hired assassins. Which meant that in seventy-two hours I’d accomplished absolutely nothing.

  The Texas heat was hot as hell, and I only had a few changes of clothes. Rather than risk the burning sun, I stayed inside on my bunk hunched over my laptop. None of the guys seemed bothered by my appearance, mostly ignoring me other than to let me know when meal time rolled around. Cruz seemed to want to look after me while the other guy, Joplin was content to pretend I was invisible.

  That was fine by me. The last thing I needed was another grumpy ass man to deal with. Not that I’d had any grumpy men to deal with lately because Gunnar and I had done a spectacular job of ignoring each other. He didn’t need to come to the bunkhouse for any reason so he didn’t. The fewer run-ins with him, the better.

  I’d just connected to the video feed in my old apartment when the front door of the bunkhouse smacked open and another tall, gorgeous man with wide shoulders stepped inside. His face was unfamiliar and the duffel bag in his hand pegged him as a new arrival. Clear blue eyes connected with mine in a dark frown, and the man took a step back like a jumpy cat. “Hey.”

  His frown only darkened. “Who are you?”

  I ignored his surly behavior but dropped the smile. “Does it matter? I’ll be gone before you learn my name. There are five additional bunks on the other side of the chow hall if you’re uncomfortable here.” Because he most certainly was, discomfort was written all over him.

  “Thanks,” he bit out and turned on his heels, giving me his fine backside as he stomped away to the other side of the bunkhouse.

  I shrugged, unfazed by his unfriendly behavior and went back to the footage of my apartment. No one had entered in the first twenty-four hours or the next twenty-four, which had given me a false sense of relief because at the tail end of day three, a man dressed in black appeared.

  He was covered from head to toe in black clothing and coverings, so even his race was concealed thanks to the balaclava he wore. I watched carefully as he went through every inch of my apartment in search of that footage probably, or my whereabouts. To his credit, the man searched meticulously and all without leaving any traces that he’d been there, going through what he assumed were my personal belongings.

  I’d left nothing there for him to find, of course, but that only meant they weren’t done hunting for me. Which meant I needed a better plan. Fast.

  The door slammed open again and a Jason Momoa look-alike stepped inside. Tall, dark and bearded with a charming smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, the man didn’t bother looking my way as he set his bag on the bed right beside me. Finally his coffee-colored gaze landed on me. “Didn’t know there were chicks here too.”

  I arched a brow at his comment. “No chicks in your branch of the service?”

  “Who said I was military?”

  Only everything so I rolled my eyes at his non-denial denial. “I’m not here and I won’t be for much longer. You and your belongings are safe from my girl cooties.”

  Finally, the tall gorgeous man looked at me and burst out laughing. It was a good sound, rich and deep and full of life. “I’m Slayer.”

  “Great name, I’m Peaches. I can just guess how you got that nickname.” As his brows arched, I laughed too. “Unless you’re from the only town in the world with actual dragons, it’s not too hard a guess.”

  Slayer laughed again and ripped off his black t-shirt to reveal a mouthwatering six pack and thick biceps that were perfect for a woman to hold on to. Just as quickly he replaced it with another black t-shirt and looked around the empty bunkhouse. Warily.

  I let out a sigh and sank further against the wall. “There’s another five beds on the other side of the chow hall.”

  “Nah, I prefer to go to bed and wake up with a view. Even if it’s one I can’t touch.”

  My lips curled into a smile. “Smart man. Too bad I’ve got my own problems. Adding you to the list isn’t in the cards.” But damn! I really could use a hard male body to satisfy my needs and distract me for a few hours.

  “But it’d be fun,” he said with a smile, and I had no doubt Slayer was a man who could deliver on that promise.

  “Without a doubt. If I live through the next bit of my life, I’ll give it some serious thought.” He frowned at my words, but before he could ask about my cryptic comment, another flash of movement drew my eye
s back to my screen. It wasn’t the same man, this one was bigger and he didn’t do nearly as good a job at hiding his identity. I grabbed a screenshot of his image and attached it to an email from my fictional personal assistant to the NYPD.

  “Good luck, then.”

  “Thanks, Slayer. Welcome to Hardtail Ranch.”

  He stopped in the doorway. Outlined by the midday sun, he looked every inch the sexy rake he appeared to be. “Thanks, Peaches.”

  Left with my own thoughts I realized why the men had come back to my old apartment. They lost my trail and were trying to find a loose thread, which would have made this a perfect time to execute a plan. If I fucking had one.

  A good plan. A doable plan. One that wouldn’t end up with me caught or dead in six months. I could disappear to Mexico and change my identity before heading to Europe. I could hitch a ride on a boat to Australia, getting rid of all traces of my old self. Or…

  It was that fucking or that kept me up most nights. I couldn’t leave without knowing what and where, but I couldn’t stay much longer. Every day I stayed here put Maisie closer to danger.

  So I had to give myself an end date. A date that, no matter what happened, I would get out of here.

  And never look back.

  Chapter Seven

  Gunnar

  The only goddamn thing that seemed to be working out for me this week was that I hadn’t laid eyes on Peaches since she walked in and asked to invade my space for a while. Thank God for small fucking favors since nothing else was going my way. Nothing at all. “What the hell do you mean the liquor license was denied? Fuck, this cannot be happening, Saint!” A liquor license was crucial to the running of The Barn Door.

  Saints hand shook as his fingers speared through his hair and his green eyes held a hint of wariness. “I mean The Barn Door’s application for a liquor license was denied. The provider who filled out the application didn’t answer some questions and they kicked it back. At least that’s what the letter in your hand says.”

  The kid wasn’t as big a pussy as he seemed, which was comforting, but it didn’t help my liquor license problem right now.

  “What fucking provider?” I knew I should have come down sooner, but I’d been putting it off because I didn’t want to have to deal with it.

  Saint sighed and rolled his eyes in frustration. “That’s how things are done down here, man. We have to get a professional to fill out the forms, but that asshole was the reason it was denied in the first damn place!”

  “Goddammit! What the hell don’t these fuckers understand about having booze at an adult establishment? Alcohol lowers people’s inhibitions and makes them more likely to enjoy themselves, which is The Barn Door’s goddamn specialty. The more booze people drink, the more money goes into the cash register. Who do I have to fuckin’ talk to?”

  “Albert Stinson, that rat-faced motherfucker. Charged an arm and a goddamn leg in fees, then we get rejected.” Saint did some weird shit, tapping his phone to mine and then he stepped back. “That’s his contact info.”

  “That easy? Thanks man.”

  “No problem, Boss. The walls and floors should be done by the end of the week.”

  “That’s good news,” I called back to him before I left the unfinished structure and whipped out my phone. The first few times I tried to get through to this asshole Stinson, the call dropped because we were out in the damn country, but as I got closer to the main house, white and gleaming in the midday sun, the call connected and stayed that way.

  “Albert Stinson, how can I help you?”

  “You can tell me what the fuck you did to get my liquor license rejected?” He stammered and stuttered and tried to explain but I was in no fucking mood to listen. “I don’t give a shit about your excuses, Stinson. You were paid because you guaran-fucking-teed that you knew what you were doing to ensure a smooth and painless process. Well right now it’s not smooth—or painless.”

  “Y-yessir. I’m looking into it, and I’ll fix it. Right away.”

  “See that you do.” I wouldn’t stand for this good old boy bullshit, not when it came to my home or my business. The call ended, and I made my way across the field that would take me back to the main house, enjoying the feel of the sun beating down on my back. It was nice outside, then again it was always nice here. It was the only good thing about this fucking place so far.

  It was all right; it just wasn’t home.

  I heard the music, loud modern country, before I saw them. Peaches and Maisie playing next to the stables in their bathing suits. A barely there bikini for the big girl and a white two-piece covered in sunflowers for the little one. Maisie’s giggles sounded over the music and it pulled my lips into a big smile. It had been far too long since I heard such pure, unadulterated joy from her.

  But the closer I got, the more disturbed I felt, and it had nothing to do with my sister’s beautiful laugh and everything to do with the scraps of cloth Peaches called a fucking bathing suit. She had too many curves, nice round tits that were more than a handful for a big man like me. Her ass was nice and round with just a hint of a jiggle and her hips brought images to mind of my hands on her hips while I thrust deep inside her.

  “Enough!”

  My voice carried and two sets of eyes turned to me while some woman belted out that the next time her man cheated, it wouldn’t be on her.

  “Hey Gunny! We washin’ cars!” Maisie waved from her perch in Peaches’ arms while she scrubbed the windshield of Peaches road-worn Caddie.

  “I see that.” Her smile was so wide and her little girl sunglasses, that I didn’t even know she had. She looked so adorable it melted my heart. Even the sunscreen streaked down her nose and across her forehead went a long way to cooling my anger. “You’re getting some sun.”

  “I got on screen, Gunny. And water,” she added and looked up at Peaches for confirmation.

  “Good, but I think its time you went inside for a while.” As expected, her little shoulders fell and a pout formed on her lips.

  “But we ain’t done yet.”

  I didn’t want to fight with her, but this wasn’t an argument I was willing to have and certainly not here. “Peaches can finish without you.”

  Maisie took her sunglasses off and looked up to Peaches who just shrugged. “When parents speak, kids gotta listen, kiddo.”

  “Will you come and see me again, Peaches?” The moment those blue eyes slammed into hers, I could see Peaches was a goner.

  “I’ll try my best, Maze. Make sure you have a tall glass of water when you get inside.”

  Maisie scrambled out of Peaches’ arms and ran across the grass as fast as her little legs would carry her. When the door slammed behind her, Peaches turned to me, those burgundy brows arched in question. “Well?”

  “What?” I didn’t mean to bark at her, but goddammit, why did she have to sound so smug?

  “Go ahead,” she said, smug as fuck, “and say whatever the hell it is that has your fucking feathers all ruffled. You think I’m going to drown her or something this time? I know you think she isn’t safe around me.”

  She stood there with her arms crossed in a way that drew attention to the smooth swells of honey brown skin which only made her waist look trimmer and narrower. With one hip kicked out to the side in that sassy way of hers, she looked tempting as fuck.

  “My feathers ruffled? I don’t get ruffled, sweetheart.”

  “Maybe you ought to tell your face that because you look like you sucked on a fucking lemon.” Then, like I wasn’t even there, she turned the hose back on and started rinsing the soap off the windshield while she sang off-key with the scorned woman on the stereo.

  Chapter Eight

  Peaches

  He was still there. Behind me. Watching me. I could feel Gunnar’s deep blue gaze staring a hole in my back. Well, my ass would be more accurate because the heat and weight of his gaze was centered right there. Either way I could feel him staring at me, but I was determined to wait him out, cru
sty bastard.

  “Maybe I look that way because you’re traipsing around naked in front of my kid sister!”

  Ah, I knew it was coming. I felt his gaze on me even before Gunnar had made his presence known. There was something about him, that undefinable quality that made his gaze, his mere presence a palpable thing.

  “Naked?” I whirled around and glared at him as I stepped from the fender of my Cadillac. “I’m wearing a fucking bathing suit, Gunnar. A bikini! Don’t blame me that your hormones can’t handle it.”

  Because that was exactly what this was. He’d gotten a boner in his sister’s presence and it humiliated him or whatever other irrational emotion men succumbed to but pretended they didn’t.

  “You couldn’t have worn a fucking t-shirt?” He stepped forward, getting close enough to try to intimidate me, but I’d seen at least a thousand men like Gunnar in my life and none of them scared me. None at all.

  “Why should I when it’s hot as balls out here and it’s not like she hasn’t seen it all before.”

  Spending time with Vivi, Moon, Teddy, Jana and Mandy meant the little girl was well versed in all things female.

  He pulled himself up to his full height. “You don’t live here alone, Peaches. There are men here who might think wearing this is an offer of sorts.”

  I sucked in a breath, offended that he would even say such a thing about the men he’d invited to live on his ranch. “So what you’re saying is that you brought a bunch of degenerates to live on your ranch with your sister? Good to know. I’ll sleep with one eye open.”

  He opened his mouth and closed it and yeah, maybe I stared a little too long at those soft pink lips, but I could hate him and still think he was hot as shit.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No but you implied it. I’ll be sure to let them know what you think of them.”

  I would do no such thing, of course, but Gunnar needed to be taken down a peg or two. “As always, it was good talking to you Gunnar.”

  “We’re not done talking yet.” His voice was loud and his tone was firm and cold. Angry. “Don’t walk away from me.”