TWO
Harper
Hangovers sucked.
But being stuck on the side of a deserted off-road sucked even worse.
Harper knew how to change a tire. She wasn’t inept with cars. The family mechanical shop was practically her playground growing up.
“Damn you,” she kicked the tire for the third time, like it would miraculously help. She’d gone to the trouble of jacking up the car only for the tire to be welded with titanium glue.
Unlike Preacher, she couldn’t bend metal; her arms were too puny. And now she’d turned into a damsel on the side of the road. Great.
A throbbing headache was working its way through her skull. Her morning was awful: no pain relief, and now she’d be late for class.
As she reached into the passenger seat to call someone to help, she heard the approaching sounds of a motorcycle.
A woman alone on the streets, albeit daytime, could not be too careful, so Harper made sure her handheld taser was close by as the motorcycle slowed and stopped behind her Escalade.
She immediately noted the Zero SR/S as the driver switched off the engine and rested two heavy booted feet on the asphalt. The sports bike was a thing of beauty in brushed steel.
Harper Marinos was a bit of a girlie tomboy. She readily admitted it. The men in her life taught her the most important life lessons.
Lie. Steal. Cheat, survive. And always rely on each other.
Unlike her college friends, she hadn’t lived an ordinary life. She was an MC princess and part of the Renegade Souls MC foundations. The MC was founded forever ago so men could live freely by their own laws. It still stood to those same values today under her father’s leadership. Rider Marinos was the president of the Colorado chapter and the president who oversaw all the other chapters around the country.
She loved the MC and everything it encompassed. They were her family, and she was damn proud of it. Her father and uncles might have taught her to drive, to fix things, and to defend herself, but she was prouder of the fact she learned how to hot wire and steal a car from Luxe, how to card shark from Roux, and how to make the best damn iced muffins from her kickass mom. Harper liked to think she was a melting pot for all the wisdom they’d poured into her from birth.
Harper had the skill set most people would be jealous of; she had the best of all things life could offer, never took it for granted, and rarely acted divaish. Only sometimes, but that was primarily because of her idiot younger brothers when she needed to put them in their places.
She was confident in her five foot three frame, though it dwindled a little as she watched a very tall man swing his leg over the bike seat and come toward her with a smile.
“Wait there.” She told him, and he stopped immediately, crooking a light eyebrow. Her chin was in the air to better see him. What was he, six foot two or three? “I’m legally obligated to inform you I’m holding a taser.”
His lips twitched at the edges. “Are you? I’ll try not to give you a reason to use it. I stopped because you looked like you needed some help. Do you?”
“That depends.”
Another cock of his head. He looked amused.
She was not about to trust a stranger.
“On what you’re wearing underneath that leather jacket?”
He laughed, and it was deep and rusty sounding. “Shit, I didn’t know Denver ladies would be so friendly.”
“I’m not being friendly.” She said straight-faced, her fingers held tight around the taser, ready to bring it out immediately to zap this guy in the balls. Lawless taught her to always go for the balls. “I’m checking you’re not wearing affiliations to an MC.”
“MC? Motorcycle club?”
That was unusual. Bikers never questioned what MC meant; some of her worries lessened that this do-gooder wasn’t in a rival club. It was against her religion to associate with anyone who might be an enemy to the Renegade Souls.
With a slow move, down went his jacket zipper to reveal a plain white t-shirt. No club insignia patches were visible and Harper exhaled, relieved.
“Back to my question. Do you need help, or should I ride off and leave you here?”
Not one to look a gift horse up the nose, Harper dropped some of her tough-girl attitude and smiled. “If you can loosen those lug nuts so I can change the tire, it would be appreciated and a miracle. I think they’re welded on by Zeus.”
The guy chuckled and dropped to his haunches, going immediately to the right tool Harper had tried to use.
He must be a member of Zeus’ family because what do you know? Those things sprang loose like he’d whispered a magic word to them.
“I must have loosened them, I think.” She said, hovering closer. He canted his head to the side and grinned. “You must have. Hand me the tire.”
“I can do that.”
“It’s just as easy for me to. I’m already down here.”
That was fair.
Within minutes, her new tire was exchanged, and he tossed the tools and the flat tire into the trunk, dusting off his hands on his jeans.
“Thank you. I appreciate you stopping to help. Few would.”
“My mom would give me hell for not helping.”
Aww. A mama’s boy. That was cute. She knew so many of them. Especially her friend Saint, the big baby. Her two brothers weren’t far behind him, either.
Keeping a reasonable distance between them, the man strode back to his bike and climbed on the seat. The engine purred like a dream.
There was something about a motorcycle that spoke to Harper’s soul. Despite getting a snow-capable vehicle to please her cautious father, she dreamed of owning a bike someday. What good was it knowing how to ride one if she never did? That was a battle for another day, though.
Right now, she was dangerously close to being late to class, and if she wanted to graduate early, skipping even one class would set her back.
“Thanks again,” she smiled, and the man lifted a gloved hand. He powered off long before she’d even climbed behind the wheel.
Harper wasn’t closeted by her Renegade Souls family, but it wasn’t far off. A few years ago, she obtained some independence by enrolling in a nearby college to pursue dual degrees in business and communications. She intended to work for her pseudo-adopted sister, Angela, having interned at her law firm for two summers. It wasn’t biased to say Angela was Denver’s most kickass attorney, and Harper wanted to follow in her footsteps.
All her life she’d wanted to be helpful to her family and contribute to the RSMC. The business was a working cog. Each person put their worth in to making it a success.
Since she was a little girl, running at her father’s side, holding his thumb while he conducted business, and walking around the club like a king, Harper knew where her future existed.
Now, all she had to do was get to class, earn her bachelor’s degree, and live happily ever after, where she’d eventually fall for a biker.
Inevitability and fate were the same things to Harper.
She’d always known it.
And was happily walking toward it.
There was no life better for her.
Though only twenty, she was ambitious to achieve her goals.
Her MC princess crown came by order of birth.
But Harper Marinos was not an airhead and she wanted to earn her place in the world she loved.