Ranger: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Cold Angels MC) (Bad Boy Bikers Club Book 4)

by Naomi West

  “You … you make a good case,” I said. “But it’s not like I’m safe just yet.”

  “You will be,” said Ranger, getting up.

  He stepped over to the chair that the Heretic had been tied to and placed it back at my tiny dining room table.

  “Anyway,” he said. “No sense in worrying about what Maxwell had in mind now. He’s dead, and we need to figure out the next step.”

  He gestured to my living room, now a total mess from the fight.

  “You can stay here,” he said. “And I can put some guys on watching you. But if I were you, I’d come back to the Angels HQ with me. That’s the safest place you can be right now, and you’ll be able to hole up until we get this all taken care of.”

  I couldn’t believe I was thinking it, but he was right—it was the safest place I could be.

  “I want to go with you,” I said, not hesitating for a moment. “I don’t want to be alone even for another second.”

  “Good call,” said Ranger. “Go put together a bag and I’ll let the boss know that you’re coming.”

  I nodded and hurried off to the bedroom. Moments later I had a bag slung over my shoulder with all the essentials. Ranger had just finished up his call and looked ready to go.

  “Let’s hit it,” he said. “Boss wants to meet you.”

  “Boss?” I asked.

  “Name’s Dakota. He’s the head of the Angels, and is a good man.”

  The idea was a little scary to me, but I was ready. Meeting another biker was less frightening than what I’d already been through.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m ready.”

  Ranger nodded towards the door and we were off. Minutes later, we were on the back of his bike and making our way down the highway towards the HQ. As nervous as I’d felt before, it all went away once I had my arms around Ranger. Being with him was like nothing else—he made me feel safe and turned on and excited all at once. He was like no man I’d ever met before.

  Before too long we were back at the HQ. The afternoon was getting on and the sun was beginning to dip low into the sky. A few bikers with similar patches to the ones Ranger had on his vest were outside smoking cigarettes and chatting. They said their “hellos” to Ranger, but barely noticed me. I wondered if it was because they knew better than to look at a girl who was with a high-up in their crew.

  It was strange, but I liked the feeling. It made me feel even safer than I already had been. And it was beginning to become clearer to me that being at Ranger’s side was my best bet if I wanted to get through all of this.

  There were a few more men inside, all of them gathered at the bar with glasses of whiskey and beer in front of them. Rock music played from the speakers, but not too loudly. I could tell that things were just getting going here in the bar.

  Ranger led me through, saying more “hellos” as he did. We made our way through the back hallways, stopping at the room where I’d stayed last night. Ranger took my bag and set it down on the couch.

  “Not the nicest digs in the world,” he said. “But you’ll be secure here. No Heretic would risk breaking into our HQ to get at you.”

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  “Now,” he said. “You cool with meeting with the boss?”

  “As cool as I’m going to be,” I said.

  “Then let’s go,” he said. “He’s eager to meet you.”

  We left the room, Ranger locking it behind him and giving me the key. We made our way up, finally arriving at a large wooden door that looked more secure and substantial than the rest of the ones in the HQ. Ranger gave it a rap, and a gruff voice told us to come in.

  Ranger’s boss was exactly what I was expecting—a tough, rough-looking guy covered in tattoos and dressed in leather and denim. Long hair and a big beard obscured his face, but like Ranger, his eyes glimmered with intelligence and cunning. I could tell right away that he wasn’t just any old thug. And he carried himself with the same confident bearing as Ranger.

  “Sit,” he said as we entered.

  I took a seat across from his desk and Ranger did the same. The boss looked me up and down, but not in a sexual way—instead, it was a look-over that suggested he was seeing right through me and sizing up my character right then and there.

  “So, this is the girl,” said Dakota. “The little troublemaker.”

  “I—” I said.

  He raised his hand, making it clear that he didn’t want to hear a word out of me without his explicit say-so. I worried that he was going to tear into me, to accuse me of being responsible for what his crew had been through.

  “Name’s Dakota,” he said. “And you’re Cassie, huh?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  He nodded slowly, as if processing something.

  Dakota turned his attention to Ranger.

  “We got that Heretic you worked over,” he said. “Thanks for not maiming the fuck out of him.”

  “Sure,” said Ranger. “I made sure to teach him a few good lessons first.”

  “I saw that,” said Dakota. “Fucker was shook within an inch of his life.”

  “And what’s next for the sorry shit?” asked Ranger.

  “Next is we rough him up, get whatever other info we can out of him, and ship him back to the Angels.”

  “You worried about reprisal?” asked Ranger.

  “Nope,” said Dakota. “Fucker’s about as low on the totem pole as they come. Heretics might be pissed, but they’re not gonna be sending out any war bands on his behalf. No, this shit with her is what we’re really worried about.”

  I said nothing, letting them talk.

  “Some pay-to-play sex trafficking shit, huh?” asked Dakota. “Fucking scumbags.”

  “It’s weird,” said Ranger. “I knew the Heretics were into harder shit than us, but I never would’ve guessed they’d be in the skin game.”

  “And up until recently, you’d have been right,” said Dakota.

  “What do you mean?” asked Ranger.

  “Keep that mouth of yours shut and I might tell you, bud,” he said. “You heard about that infighting that was going on with the Heretics a few months back, right?”

  “Yeah,” said Ranger. “Heard a few guys got out of line and tried to make a power play. Thought they squelched it pretty damn quick, though.”

  “And that’s what I thought too,” said Dakota. “But, come to learn from that shithead that you brought in, there was more to meets the eye. Turns out that the infighting came to a head, and one of the high-ups managed to get control of the Heretics. Some fucker named Red Flag.”

  I was still having a hard time with these bikers and their nicknames. I’d slept with Ranger, and I still had no idea what his real name was. But I didn’t offer my opinions on the matter.

  “Heard of him,” said Ranger. “Heard that he’s a real ruthless prick.”

  “And you’d be right about that,” said Dakota. “He’s as fucking psychotic as they come. Heard he tortured to death some of the Heretic high-ups when he took control of the gang; only the president managed to get away.”

  “Fucking hell,” said Ranger, shaking his head.

  “And he doesn’t have the, uh, moral compunctions that most men seem to have. He’s a killer, a drug dealer, and, as we’re learning now, a fucking pimp. Got no problem taking these poor girls and making them sell their bodies just so he can line his pocket.”

  “Prick,” hissed Ranger.

  Dakota turned his eyes to me.

  “Your boy Maxwell got lucky that all they did was put a bullet in his head and be done with it.”

  I didn’t know what to say. It made me wonder if shooting me had actually been what they had in mind for me.

  “Anyway,” said Dakota. “It was only a matter of time before our two crews came to war over this, and this situation with the girl here just happened to be what did it.”

  “Damn,” said Ranger. “You’re thinking war?”

  “Most likely,” said Dakota.

  �
��Fuck,” said Ranger. “Boss, I know we’ve got a solid crew here, but the Heretics are huge—how are we going to stand toe to toe with them?”

  “We’re not,” said Dakota. “You’re right—they’ve got more manpower and resources than us. So, we’re going to have to figure out something.”

  “What about the old boss?”

  The words shot out of my mouth, and both men turned to me asking me with their eyes to go on.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

  “Nah,” said Dakota. “Let’s hear what you got.”

  “You said that the old boss made it out alive, right?” I asked. “That means that he probably wants his group back. And I bet with a motorcycle club that size there are probably a bunch of people who support him who don’t like the new boss.”

  Dakota crossed his arms over his chest and regarded me skeptically.

  “So,” he said. “We find the old president, offer to work with him, and hope the Heretics fight it out among themselves over it.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “When I was between homes in the system, I saw all these kinds of power plays when the kids would make little groups. Girls are like that, always figuring out how to divide and conquer.”

  Ranger let out an impressed snort.

  “Might actually work,” said Ranger.

  “I’ll have the boys look into getting the old president tracked down. He’s probably in hiding, but we can sniff him out. Doubt he left the city.”

  Dakota went on.

  “Keep an eye on her, Ranger,” he said. “And find some way to keep her out of trouble. I’ll let you know what I decide.”

  Ranger nodded to me and got up. I followed him out of the office, wondering if I’d just made things worse with that big mouth of mine.

  18

  Cassie

  Ranger and I continued down the hall.

  “Good thinking back there,” he said. “Boss seemed to like that little plan of yours.”

  “I’m glad,” I said. “I was worried for a second he was going to throw his bottle of whiskey at me.”

  “Nah,” said Ranger. “Dakota’s not that kind of guy. He’s smart, and knows when to consider a good idea, no matter what the source. Just because a guy’s covered in tattoos and looks like a damn Viking doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a good head on his shoulders.”

  That was the lesson I seemed to be learning. Ranger was the same way. He looked like a thug, but the more I got to know him, the more I realized he was protective and stuck up for those weaker than himself.

  “So,” I said. “I’m guessing you don’t want me following you around all day.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve got some shit to do with some of the rest of the crew. We might be in the middle of a war before too long, and we’re going to have to be ready. Shit might get really rough, really fast.”

  “Then what do you want me to do?” I asked. “I want to help out somehow.”

  “Unless you can put about a hundred pounds of muscle on that little body of yours and learn how use a gun, I can’t think of anything you ought to do other than stay out of the way.”

  I considered his words, the two of us standing in silence. Through the walls I heard the sounds of what appeared to be an auto garage. The whirling of tools and the clanking of metal vibrated through the ground.

  “Is that a garage?” I asked.

  “Yep,” said Ranger. “Why?”

  “Can I see it?” I asked.

  He raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.

  “Sure,” he said. “I suppose. Come on—it’s down on the bottom floor.”

  The two of us headed down the stairs until we reached the basement, the sounds of auto work getting louder the closer we got. After a time, we arrived at a large underground garage. The garage was big enough for four cars that all looked to be cheap economy cars.

  “This is nice,” I said. “Not many places have underground garages like this.”

  “You’re right about that,” said Ranger. “It’s why we bought the place. We break ’em down for parts, then sell ’em on the black market.”

  “But the cars …” I said. “They’re all … cheap.”

  Ranger flashed me a surprised expression.

  “Yeah?” he asked. “What’s it to you?”

  “Just thinking that if you’ve got a place like this then you ought to be putting it to work on other cars, like luxury kinds.”

  “No kidding,” said Ranger. “But those cars, they’re harder to get ahold of. And owners tend to be pretty protective over them. Hard to know when it’s a good time to boost them.”

  I thought the matter over.

  “Can I show you something?” I asked.

  “I … suppose,” said Ranger.

  “You have a computer?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Come on.”

  He took off down the hall and I followed him. Soon we were in a small office with a fancy desktop computer. He typed in the password and I set to work. I went to a few local social media sites, searching through them quickly to find some accounts of younger people showing off the fancy stuff their parents had bought for them.

  And, of course, some of that fancy stuff was luxury cars.

  “Damn,” said Ranger. “I can’t imagine having cars like those when I was that age. Fucking kids probably don’t even appreciate them.”

  “And they’re covered by really, really good insurance,” I said. “Which means that if they get stolen, the owners are probably just going to shrug before calling Daddy to have him get their insurance to fork over a new car.”

  “Unlike those cars in the garage now,” he said. “Economy cars are worth less, and it’s always fucking bothered me how I knew we’d been boosting them from people who likely didn’t have much.”

  He turned his attention back to the screen.

  “But it doesn’t do any good with what I said earlier about these cars.”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “Check this out.”

  I did a little typing and clicking and soon had the pictures saved on the desktop of the computer.

  “All you have to do is check out the location data on the pictures when they’re taken. The data has precise GPS coordinates, which means you’ll be able to look up exactly where the pictures were taken.”

  I pulled up the info on one of the pictures.

  “Like this one—it was taken twenty minutes ago and is in Sherwood, near some fancy lunch place. That means if you went there now, you’d find the car in the picture, and it’d be unattended.”

  Ranger stood up straight, his hands on his hips.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said. “So if we checked this shit out on a Friday night, say, we’d be able to find fancy cars parked downtown near clubs where we could send boys out to boost ’em.”

  “Bingo,” I said.

  “Shit.”

  “You’d have to have someone going through all the pictures and looking up the data. So one of your guys would have to be sifting through selfies and relaying the information.”

  Ranger chuckled.

  “Selfie duty,” he said, shaking his head. “Sounds like a job for one of the newbies.”

  Then he turned his eyes to me.

  “You’re full of surprises, kiddo,” he said.

  “Hey, when you grow up in the system and spend a lot of time around some future criminals in the making, this is the kind of shit you pick up on.”

  “How about this,” said Ranger. “I send in one of the boys and you show him how to do all this. And when you’re done with that, you can have free rein of the HQ. Just don’t wander outside. No idea if any Heretics are going to be nearby and looking to pick you up. Got it?

  “Sounds good to me.”

  He tapped his hand on the desk and gave me a glance that was almost … warm before leaving. I turned my attention back to the computer and before too long, a small figure appeared in the doorway.

  It was a boy, no older than sixtee
n. He had a slim figure clad in skinny jeans, a pair of black-and-white Converse shoes, and a white T-shirt smeared with oil. He regarded me with big brown eyes and a mouth that was slightly open.

  I got the impression right away that he thought I was cute and didn’t quite know what to do. I wasn’t sure either—when Ranger had told me that he was going to send in a low-level guy, I’d pictured someone a little closer to my age, not some high-schooler.

  “Hey!” I said, making my voice bright and chipper in an attempt to offset his nerves and make him feel comfortable. “You the guy Ranger wanted me to train?”

  “Yeah,” he said, speaking in one of those low voices that had only recently deepened.

  “And what’s your name?”

  “Mike,” he said, still standing at the door.

  “Well come on in, Mike,” I said. “Ranger wanted me to show you how to track fancy cars.”

  With a little bit of hesitation, he stepped into the room and came to my side.

  “Come on,” I said. “I won’t bite.”

  Once he was at my side, he turned his attention to the screen.

  “Ranger told me you knew how to get the cool cars,” he said.

  “That’s right,” I said, sensing an in. “You like cars?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “They’re freaking awesome. But the only ones that the guys bring in are crappy nineties cars that’re all from Japan or whatever.”

  “And what do you want to work on?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said, looking away and thinking about it. “Maybe some Italian sports car or something, one of those cars that look totally badass.”

  Then he shrugged.

  “Not like I can drive them or anything—still learning how. But Ranger said I can take some parts here and there, so I’m hoping I can put together something of my own eventually.”

  “That sounds cool,” I said. “Well, if you let me show you how to do this car-tracking thing, you might be able to help the guys bring in more expensive cars.”