Outlaws’ Runaway (Property of Outlaw Sons MC #2)

1. Paige

1

PAIGE

“Shake that pretty ass, girl!” one of the jerks at the big table yells. His friends laugh like he’s a comic genius.

Great. It’s going to be like that. I had a bad feeling about these guys as soon as they came in. It isn’t always fair to judge a book by its cover, but sometimes you get exactly what it promises. Trust your gut. A lesson I should’ve learned a little earlier in life, but not much I can do about that now.

“Coming!”

He and his buddies look like they’re on a hunting trip, all six of them dressed in a mishmash of stained camo and army surplus. Just that wouldn’t bother me, but they’re giving strong ‘don’t leave your drink uncovered’ energy. It’s only two-thirty, and I bet not one of them would pass a breathalyzer.

I could be on a plane heading to a tropical paradise right now, but instead I’m counting tips to scrape together enough for some supplies and a bus ticket to the other side of the country. My back hurts, my feet hurt, and if I didn't desperately need the money, I'd tell this guy exactly where he can shove his menu. But I do need it, and under-the-table work that doesn’t involve taking my clothes off isn’t nearly as easy to come by as I thought it would be. I tighten my apron, stand up a little straighter and put a polite smile on my face. Sometimes after a few beers, people get pretty free with their tips.

Not going to hold my breath, though.

“I'm so sorry you had to wait. Busy day, you know? Are you boys ready to order?” I pull my order block out of my apron pocket and do a little test doodle in the corner to make sure the ink is flowing.

The loudmouth guy looks like he’s in his fifties, and sunscreen lotion has never so much as whispered across his leathery skin. His flinty eyes scan my face like he's trying to memorize every little feature. It's creepy. A couple of the others do the same, while the rest mostly ignore me.

“I can come back if you need a minute. Or if you know what you want to drink I can get that going for ya.” Run, run, run! my instincts scream, but I’ve only been here for a few days. I'm being paranoid. It's just some local boys being assholes.

He leans back, hands linked behind his head and gives me a nasty smirk. “Nah. I think we know what we want. Unless you’re on the menu? The boys and I have always been partial to splitting a nice cherry pie.”

It's a struggle, but I grit my teeth and resist the urge to stab him in the eye with my pen.

His buddy to the right laughs at my obvious discomfort. “Ribs, extra sauce. And dirty fries. Oh, and bring a couple pitchers of beer for the table.”

I nod, scribbling down all of their orders. It'll be a miracle if I get it all right, but I do the best I can. Maybe a little food will help mellow them out. “Coming right up.”

“I like a little meat on the bones,” one of them yells after me as I walk away.

I pretend I don't hear him.

I never expected that working at a rural highway diner would be a glamorous job, but this is way worse than usual. Most of the lunch crowd that comes through here are men. Truckers, locals and seasonal workers on the nearby farms. I’ve heard my fair share of crude comments, but they usually come with a genuine smile. Nothing has made me feel unsafe. Not until now.

“Bunch of charmers, huh?” Ash, one of the busboys, says quietly to me as he walks by with a big plastic tub full of dishes. He's only a little younger than me. Probably just graduated high school. Skinny as a rail with tattoos all over his wiry arms. He's an okay guy, but I don't want to get close to anyone. For my sake and theirs. I'm just passing through anyway. Hopefully in a few more days I’ll be off to the east coast, far away from anyone who might know me.

“Yeah, real classy,” I grumble under my breath, then yell the order to the kitchen while I clip the sheet up for the cook to see.

I'm just topping off the second pitcher when the glasses start to rattle, and then I feel a rumble travel through the floor and up my legs. Motorcycles, big heavy models, roll right up in front of the windows and the engines cut off. I don’t have time to register more than leather vests, dusty jeans and boots before the table from hell yells at me to hurry up. Ash shakes his head in commiseration as I push past him with a pitcher in each hand.

“I’ll throw in a ten if you pour one of these over your shirt,” ribs guy says with a sneer. “Twenty if you’re sitting on my lap when you do it.”

I laugh, pretending to think he’s joking as I drop off the pitchers. “Food will be up soon.”

The front door chimes, so I grab a stack of menus and turn to the door.

And stop dead in my tracks.

Wow.

Dark, mossy pupils with jade flecks widen when the biker sees me, like he's spotted something he likes, but his expression gives nothing away. My pulse spikes immediately, adrenaline surging while my two working brain cells spin out of control on the hamster wheel in my skull. His short hair is thick and dark, with just a hint of red in it. A closely trimmed beard traces the outline of his defined jaw. He's built strong, his black T-shirt clinging to him in all the right places underneath his biker vest. Dark tattoos snake up his bare, muscled arms, and narrow hips give him that perfect upside down V-shape of someone who works his body hard.

I wet my bone dry lips, swallowing thickly as I try to remember what I’m supposed to be doing.

He rakes that emerald gaze from my face, all the way down to my feet and right back up. If he was a book, his cover would say: ‘Content warning: do not read in public’. And I get the feeling he isn’t even trying. Just by existing, he’s making me wonder if I should forget all my troubles and go for a ride.

“Uh…”

He grins. “Got room for three?”

Oh right. This is planet earth. I'm at work. Just not doing a very good job of it. I don't trust my voice to come out as more than a squeak, so I nod and gesture towards a booth by the window.

“Table, if you don’t mind.” He plucks a menu out of my hand and heads towards an empty spot.

Once he looks away, my heartbeat settles for a moment.

And then speeds right back up.

Two more men walk in, wearing the same kind of leather vest. The first is a giant, with a thick beard and a shaved head. Thick brows emphasize his deep blue eyes, and he grins when he sees me staring. I can’t look at him without wondering what it would be like to have those big, strong arms around me, and to rest my head on the center of his broad chest. Would it be smooth? Fuzzy? Covered in tattoos? He's pure bulk. His gray T-shirt is straining at the seams, and his jeans are so tight over his thighs that I can make out how his corded muscles move as he walks. He could take three of me and juggle us without breaking a sweat.

He reaches out and takes a menu from my frozen hand. Naked bodies writhe together in a colorful tattoo sleeve that starts at his left wrist and vanishes into his shirt. I can’t look away, shocked to see just about every sex position I can imagine and some I couldn't until just now. It's like a big knotwork puzzle, except it's all porn. Expertly drawn, but porn. My face glows hot, and I don't know if I'm embarrassed, scandalized, or just plain turned on.

“Thank you, honey.” He grins, and his smile is just as big and broad as the rest of him. Where the heck did these guys come from? We've had plenty of bikers through here in the few days I've been around, and some have been cute, but none have been like this.

I gesture the way his friend went, I guess in case he didn’t notice? Maybe they didn’t want a booth because he wouldn’t fit. Oh my God, my subconscious is obsessed. I shake my head to clear it.

The third biker cocks his head and watches me like he can hear every mortifying thought. His thick dark hair is long, hanging free on either side of his handsome face. He’s the youngest of the three, lean and strong with cheekbones that could cut glass. His full lips are way too sexy and kissable for his own good. At first glance, he doesn’t have the same overwhelming aura of danger, but when our eyes meet, everything changes. His beauty transforms into a deadly trap. A beautiful panther, showing off soft fur and hoping I don’t notice the sharp teeth and blood-tipped claws until it’s too late. With only a whisper of a smile, he strips my clothes off one by one until I'm left naked and exposed to him.

I clutch the last menu to my chest like I can hide behind it.

“Easy. We don't bite. Much.” He runs a finger over the back of my hand and takes the menu, sliding it from my numb grasp. His arms are bare, but there’s a hint of a black tattoo peeking out from his t-shirt collar and running up his neck.

I’m a strong, independent woman, raised to stand up for myself and not shrink away and hide. If Mom was here, she would laugh and say, “Pull yourself together, Paige. Feed them enough beans and they’ll fart like the rest of us.” Now, she used to say that about people who thought they were better than us, not stupidly hot bikers, but I think the lesson still stands. People are people, no matter how good looking. And yet, here I am, struggling to get a word out.

He chuckles under his breath as he joins his friends. On the back of all three of their jackets is the same big skull logo with some machine parts crossed behind it, almost like a pirate flag, and in curved text over it reads, “Outlaw Sons.”

Oooooh, crap. These aren’t just hot guys with motorcycles. They’re bad news in tempting packages, even if my gut is telling me to roll over and let them pet my tummy.

“Hi. I'm Pai—Sarah, can I get you anything to start with while you look at the menu?” God, I almost gave them my real name. They've got my head completely spun around.

“Nice to meet you… Sarah ,” the green eyed man says, watching me closely. My mistake didn't slip by him. “I'm Savage, the big boy's Crank and that there's Poe.”

“Um… nice to meet you, too.” I'm not used to customers introducing themselves right back at me.

“Hey! We're fucking starving over here. And we need more beer!” someone shouts from the big table.

I try to keep my expression neutral, but I can’t stop the flinch.

“They giving you trouble?” Savage swings his gaze their way, and everything about him goes from sexy to terrifying in zero seconds flat. “Just say the word and we’ll go take care of them for you. No charge.”

I can just imagine what would happen if these two tables clashed. We’d be lucky if the diner was still standing at the end, and then they’d drive away with a great story while the rest of us patched our lives back together. Even at six to three, I’d put my money on the bikers. I shake my head. “No, they're just a little tipsy. And it’s a big group so they’ve been waiting a while. Why don't you look over the menu while I check on their order? I'll be right back with water and you can tell me what you want.”

“They’re grown fucking men, not toddlers. Don’t make excuses for them,” Crank growls.

No kidding, but if I’m the one that points that out, I’m out of a job, not him. “It’s fine, honest. I'll be back in a sec. Please, um, don't start a fight or anything?” I make a point of nodding my head at the other table.

Poe looks their way, disgust on his face. “They don't start trouble, then we don't start trouble. But if they do, we're sure as hell gonna finish it. I don’t fucking care who you are, they don’t get to act like assholes just because they can.”

Who I am? A waitress? Maybe this guy isn’t much better than the others. “Be right back.”

“Counting on it,” Savage says softly.

When I check with the kitchen, the orders are already starting to come out. Good thing, because my day will get a lot better when they finish up and get out of here. The last thing I want is a bunch of half-drunk bullies making their bad attitudes everyone’s problem. I serve them as quickly as I can, smiling through comments I know they want to see me react to. If the plates hit the table a little hard and they don’t get my usual charm, that's on them.

I think I’m finally done and clear when my left butt cheek explodes in pain. One of them pinched me, hard. I yelp and jump away, right into one of his friends. A hand clamps around my arm like a manacle. I struggle to get free, only managing it because he lets me. Real fear courses through my veins, and all they do is laugh. The guy who grabbed me raises his hands like he’s apologizing, but when I follow his gaze, it’s not to me, it’s to the biker table, where Savage is standing by his chair looking ready to do murder.

Why do I suddenly feel like a bone between two angry dogs?

“When do you get off work, hot stuff?” asks the guy who pinched me. “We could show you one hell of a good time.”

“Sorry, really long shift today.”

“Got nothing but time,” says the first guy, the older one who started it all. “We'll wait.”

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t think that would be a good idea. I have to—I have other tables to wait on.”

He sneers and waves me away.

Relief put an extra boost to my steps as I practically jog back to the table with the bikers, pulling out my order pad. “Sorry to make you wait. Are you ready to order?”

“Assholes,” growls Crank, glowering over at the other bunch. “You okay?”

I nod. “I will be, except… never mind.”

“Except what?” Savage asks. He might be sitting again, but they’ve all adjusted their chairs so they can see the other table. He shifts, and I see a glint of metal by his waist. Oh God, I don't think he meant to show it, but he's carrying.

Can I trust them? Logic says no, but my gut says that while they might be dangerous, they’re not dangerous to me. Wasn’t I just thinking that I need to learn to go with my instincts? I turn so they are the only ones that will see or hear me. “It’s just that my shift is over soon, and I’m a little worried they might stick around.”

“You want us to keep an eye out?” Poe asks, sounding almost amused.

“N—never mind,” I stammer. “It’s fine. I’ll just hang around a bit to make sure they clear out. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No,” Poe says, flicking his thick hair out of his face. He's got a narrow scar along the back of his jaw, pale white against his skin. “We'll keep an eye on you. Make sure you get where you’re going in one piece.” The other two nod.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” I hold up my order pad and put the tip of the pen against the paper. “Now, what can I get you guys?”