2. Amber
2
AMBER
Four months ago
The rescue
I check the time on my watch. Goddamn it. The guy I was supposed to meet is late and this isn’t exactly the kind of bar where you’re going to potentially meet the love of your life. I could be wrong, but Skinny Dick’s Saloon isn’t ringing my bells.
This is exactly what you get when you don’t plan ahead. I need to stay off dating apps, and I have successfully for a while now, but I got curious. I haven’t had a date in a long time and frankly, I’m in the mood. I just didn’t plan on having to wade through a bar with women barely dressed, handing out drinks on silver trays to creepy looking men who make the biker bars I’m used to look like Disneyland. I cringe. I don’t know what the hell possessed me to not look this place up before I accepted a drink invitation, but this is not looking good.
I need to get the fuck out of here because I’ll probably catch hepatitis just from drinking out of a glass.
I glance around, unable to see my way through the crowd gathering, the loud music practically rattling my bones. This is why you should stay home, it’s safer that way.
Stupid me for thinking that this could be a good idea. In a city like New Orleans with over 350,000 people, you’d think I’d be able to have one decent date. Over the years I’ve been single, it’s only gotten worse. Coming out of a bad relationship three years ago, I swore I’d never get into anything heavy again. Heavy, to me, is scary. It makes me want to run, and running is something I told myself I’d stop doing once I left the compound.
My husband wasn’t a good man, and it didn’t take long to realize that once he had me in his sights, I was destined to be doomed. My family wasn't overly religious until my older brother, Steven, became my guardian after Mom died, and then our dad split. Dad was a drunk, as well as a good-for-nothing. After our family dynamic changed, Steven became involved with a church and as I was only fourteen at the time, I had no choice but to go with him. At twenty-two, he was an adult and like I say, he was now my legal guardian. I was already mourning the loss of my mom, and dealing with our dad leaving, too. I trusted Steven, and to be fair, I really don’t think he knew what he was getting himself into until it was too late.
I steel myself. Now isn’t the time to think about any of that . It’s in the past. I’ve moved on.
It’s been three years and I deserve a night out. I’m clearly just not looking in all the right places. Being new in town, I’m not familiar with any of the bars or clubs or wherever it is you go to meet people these days. I make my way through the crowd when I feel a hand at my elbow.
“Hello, beautiful.”
I turn as a big guy with tattoos on his hands puts them on me and I try to wriggle away.
“Not looking,” I state, shoving his hands off my hips.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“C’mon, baby, don’t be a spoil sport.”
I’ve half a mind to knee him in the crown jewels, but I refrain. For the moment.
“I’m here with someone,” I lie.
“I’ve been watching you.” He tries to grope me again and I shove his chest when he reaches for me. I don’t miss the distinct smell of stale beer permeating from him. Jesus, get the fuck out of here. It ain’t worth this shit.
“Keep watching, bozo,” I holler, dodging around a couple dancing so I can get the hell outta dodge.
The hustle and bustle of bodies makes it almost impossible to make it to the front door, but I finally do and take a breath when I make it outside and slump against the wall.
“This is so fucked,” I say to myself. And the dick didn’t even show up, or if he did, he took one look at me and left. We both said what we’d be wearing, and it isn’t hard to miss a red dress like the one I’m wearing. I realize now that I’m a tad overdressed.
I’m honestly starting to question why I put myself through this. I thought a nice quiet drink at a bar would be just the ticket, but I’m too dumb to do research beforehand and got distracted by his pretty face. It’s probably not even his face. It’s probably AI because now I’m thinking about it, he was a little too perfect.
I sigh, pushing off the wall, turning just as the doors open and loud music spills out. My heart rate accelerates when I see the guy who groped me, and another man by his side. They’re both looking around, but their eyes stop when they spot me. I start to walk quickly up the street, hoping to blend into the crowd but the meat head has his eyes on me and gives me a chin lift. I hurry my pace, leaving them behind, but as I glance back once more, to my horror they’re coming my way. Shit! Shit, shit, shit.
Okay, now is not the time to panic. Now is the time to stay in a nice, well-lit area and not go off down any dark alleyways.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I glance at it quickly.
Bronco
Hey, pretty girl. How did the date go?
It’s my buddy from the motorcycle club where I’ve been bartending a few nights a week at the clubhouse. I’ve come and gone a few times, taking other jobs in between, but the MC has always been good to me. Crazily enough, they’ve been the most respectful out of all the people I’ve worked for over the years. It’s good money, and the bikers aren’t all that bad. Okay, a few of them have tried hitting on me, but that’s to be expected. There are women everywhere at that club, but I can’t honestly complain and say they’re shitty to work for because they’re really good.
I turn again. The guys are gaining on me and the big beefy one who touched me looks like he’s on a mission. His jaw set, his face tense; I’m guessing he didn’t like my rejection. I turn back just in time to not hit somebody on the sidewalk.
I hit the phone icon and call Bronco.
“Goin’ that good, huh?” He snickers.
“Bronco, I think I’m in trouble.”
“What? Fuck. Where are you?”
I glance around. “I… I don’t know, I was supposed to meet a guy at this joint…”
I can hear him shuffling around, voices in the background, then it’s quiet. I’m figuring he’s at the clubhouse and he just stepped outside. “Which bar?”
“Uh.” I rack my brain to think of the stupid name again. “Skinny Dick’s.”
“For fuck’s sake, Amber!” he cusses. “Please tell me you’re jokin’?”
“These guys.” I turn again, my mouth dry as they continue their pursuit. “They followed me out, and now I’m running up the street away from them.”
“Fuck. Okay, this is what you’re gonna do. If you see a cop on the street, you go tell him what’s goin’ on, got me?”
I glance around. “I don’t see any.”
“This is fuckin’ New Orleans, where are the fuckin’ police when you need them?”
“They’re gaining on me, Bronc. The larger of the two tried to grope me inside.”
“Go into the nearest cafe or restaurant and stay there, pick a crowded one, but not a bar.”
“Okay—”
“A bar is too easy for one of them to snag you.”
“Shit, Bronc!”
“Tell me the name of the street you’re on.”
I glance up. “I don’t— I don’t know… the same one Skinny Dick’s is on.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Okay, there’s a fancy restaurant, Clarice’s, I’m going in there…” I step inside and shut the door behind me. A few of the tables close by turn to look at me, but at least I’m dressed for the occasion.
“Okay, tell me if they come in.” I hear the distinct sound of straight pipes in the background as he fires up his Harley Davidson.
The maitre de at the front glances up at me and smiles. “Good evening, miss. Table for—” She glances down at my attire.
“One.” I hold up a finger.
“Please, right this way.”
“She’s taking me to a table,” I whisper behind her into the phone.
I take a peek toward the door and sure enough, my assailants are looking through the window.
“Did they come in?” he barks over the noise of his engine.
“No— They… they’re outside…”
“Good. I’ll be there soon. Do not move from that spot and if they come inside, you call the police.”
“Okay.”
He hangs up and I smile sweetly at the server as she takes me to a table, thankfully, in the middle of the restaurant, surrounded by other diners. This is good; it’s well lit and it’s doubtful they’re going to come in here and cause a scene.
I’ve never been so frightened in my entire life. I’m sure they’re not following me to ask if I’d like to have a drink with them while chasing me up the street.
I chew on my thumb as I fake-peruse the menu, knowing I’m not ordering anything, and also hoping Bronco will get here before I have to start making excuses.
This could only fucking happen to you. Trouble follows you wherever you go.
Ain’t that the truth. I’ve been around long enough to know that I do possess a certain bad juju where men are concerned, and it was only a stroke of luck that I happened to see Bronco’s text when I did. I’m not good in times of pressure. Don’t get me wrong, I escaped a cult so I know how to run and hide, but this is a little too close for comfort.
It feels like forever, and I’ve already told the server I need some more time, when my eyes dart to the door and I see Bronco’s larger than life body in the doorway, his gaze scanning the restaurant for me as I stand. I’ve never been so relieved to see anyone in my life.
I practically leap into his arms when he reaches me. “Oh, thank God,” I sigh.
“You okay?” He checks me over; the frown between his eyes deepening.
“Just rattled,” I admit. “Maybe I’m being paranoid, I don’t know.”
“You’re not bein’ paranoid. There are too many creeps in this fuckin’ shit hole.” He glances around as some of the patrons stare at him.
I can’t help but smile. Bronco is dressed in his motorcycle jacket; his dirty patch on the top left corner reads ‘Tail Gunner,’ with his name underneath it. I never knew what a Tail Gunner was until I started working at the clubhouse. Apparently, this club needs two motorcycles to ride at the back to ensure the safety of the riders when they’re out on their club runs. I think it’s kinda hot. He also sports a fitted long sleeved, black Henley and a dark pair of jeans with a lot of wear and tear, and his black boots finish everything off. Then there’s the hair; his pride and joy. It’s short at the sides but longer on top, neatly disheveled and his goatee closely trimmed. The man is a sight for sore eyes, not that I’ve not noticed before; I’ve got perfect vision.
Bronco and I kinda just clicked right away. He was probably one of the few who didn’t hit on me, and also didn’t stare at my tits while I talked. Don’t get me wrong, not all the bikers are like that; a lot of them are in relationships or married, but the single guys in the club can be a little loose.
“I feel silly calling you to rescue me.”
He frowns. “We’re friends, AJ, of course I’m gonna come to your rescue. This city is wild. What did the guys look like?”
I shake my head. “The bigger one was beefy with tattoos on his hands, short, almost shaved, hair. As for his counterpart, I didn’t get a good look at him but he was a bit of a mini-me of his friend, shorter with tattoos.”
He quirks a brow. “Mini-me?”
“Let’s just go before the server comes back.” Just as I say it, the server arrives at the table, her eyes growing wide when she takes in Bronco and his grasp around me.
He leans over and drops a ten-dollar bill on the table, giving the surprised looking girl a wink. All I had was a free glass of water. “Plans have changed,” he tells her. “Gotta get my girl home.”
My girl?
I know he’s just playing a part so as not to upset the other patrons, but he’s raised enough eyebrows in here to make sure we’re definitely being watched and talked about in quiet whispers. Leaving no time to ponder that, he takes my hand. “Stay with me, I’m parked across the street.”
Where does he think I’m gonna go? Though, I think he’s just trying to reassure me.
I don’t argue with his words. Bronco is safe, and all my embarrassment over calling him dissipates when we step outside and I can fully appreciate how warm his hand is in mine.
It’s like home, although it shouldn’t really feel like home. I don’t know what fucking home is. I’ve been carving out this new life for myself for so long, you’d think I’d have a handle on it by now. Clearly, I’ve been living in delulu land because this is the first time anyone has made me feel safe.
“You good?” His gaze finds mine after he glances up and down the street. We’re still under the small entryway of the restaurant.
I glance around too, finally meeting his gaze. “I don’t see them.”
“Okay, let’s go.” He squeezes my hand as we step out onto the street and make a dash across the road toward his motorcycle.
It’s then I stop in my tracks mid-way across the road.
“Amber?” he barks. “You’re on the fuckin’ street!”
“I see them!”
“Where?” He looks around, but it doesn’t take long. He spots them because they’re right there, staring at us.
Dragging me off the street, he positions me beside his motorcycle and says, “Don’t move.”
“Bronco, don’t!”
He charges toward them and before I know what’s even happening, he’s tackling the bigger dude like he’s a quarterback and the big man goes stumbling backward, surprise taking him off guard. I shriek, my hands over my mouth as Bronco starts pounding his face with punches. The smaller guy is behind, yanking Bronco off his not-so-tough friend who’s unconscious on the ground, then he turns and takes one swing and the guy doubles over, crying out like a mama’s boy when Bronco strikes.
“You think it’s fuckin’ funny to stalk women down the street?” He kicks him in the ribs as I stare, horrified.
“Bronco!” I yell as two policemen rush toward him.
He turns, cussing as he reaches into his back pocket and tosses me his keys. “Gonna need these.”
I stare at him. “I can’t drive your Harley!”
“Not you! Call one of the girls, get a prospect down here to drive it, babe.”
Oh.
I gape at him as he drops down on his knees, folding his arms behind his head before the cops even reach him. “Are you actually insane?” I scream, moving toward him.
He grins. “Not like they’re gonna try that again anytime soon, right?”
I’ve never had a man defend my honor before, it’s a new experience. Even if he did go a little postal on their asses, being chased by two drunk men isn’t exactly cool behavior.
“You’re getting arrested for me?” I cry, my voice an octave too high. Panic runs through me as I try not to hyperventilate. I’ve never seen anything like that, and if I wasn’t so shocked, I might be a little impressed.
He doesn’t even have a mark on him, though his knuckles look red and a little swollen. He grins at me, his face showing absolutely no remorse. “Not just for you, for women everywhere.”
I think I just died a little bit right there on the pavement. I watch in horror as the cops tug his arms behind him and slap cuffs on his wrists. He doesn’t protest or say anything, but the two sprawled out men by their feet are indication enough of what he did.
“He didn’t do anything!” I tell the police. “These guys were following me all the way up the street and making me feel uncomfortable. I had to make a run for it.”
“Ma’am, you can make a statement downtown,” one of the cops says, then barks something into his receiver as I glance at Bronco. He’s not giving them a lick of trouble, but once they see his MC patch they call for backup. Typical.
“Call one of the girls,” he repeats. “Can’t leave my sled here all night.”
“Got it, Bronc.” I pull my phone out and with shaky fingers I call Luna, who’s Tag’s — the club’s Sergeant at Arm’s — ol’ lady.
I think I’ve had just about all the dating that I can stand.
Bronco rubs his wrists as we walk out of the station. Of course the club has a lawyer, Payden, who’s friends with Luna and helps the MC out from time to time. I used to think the two of them had something going on, but then Payden got a boyfriend, putting that rumor to bed.
He whistles a tune like nothing has happened. Like he wasn’t just in jail for beating up two people, and essentially defending me.
“That was intense,” I say, feeling guilty that he’ll have a criminal record if the charges go ahead. I explained to the cops what was going on, and once the two miscreants are treated at the hospital, they’ll be able to make a statement, too. I won’t hold my breath that anything will happen to them. The police don’t usually do anything until it’s too late.
“It wasn’t nearly as intense as it could’ve been.” He smiles when he sees his beloved motorcycle parked out front. “Which motherfucker drove my sled?”
“Pipes was the only one free,” I say, even though he’s not technically a prospect anymore, he’s the most trustworthy out of the members who don’t sit around the committee table.
“Not pissed about that.”
“He said as much.”
He glances down at my dress. “You gonna get on my sled in that?”
I glance down at myself. “I didn’t think I’d be hopping on the back of your motorcycle tonight, did I?”
The cops let me ride with them to the station but now I need to get home.
“Clearly.” He rubs his chin. “You look pretty in red, it suits you.”
I balk. “Uh, thanks?”
“Why do you say it like it’s a question?”
“Um, probably because you’ve never said anything like that to me before.”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t thought it.”
“I guess not.” I shift awkwardly.
“So, you gonna hitch that skirt up, or want me to do the honors?” He smirks.
I slap his arm. “How long have you been waiting to ask me that?”
I like the sound of his laughter, his eyes creasing at the corners as he waves his palms at me. “Fine. You do it yourself, but don’t blame me when that pretty skirt gets ripped. Skintight and motorcycles don’t exactly mix well.”
I huff as he swings one leg over the body of his bike and then pulls a bandana up around his neck, covering his chin. Okay, that’s hot. I’ve seen him wearing it higher over his mouth when he rides, but up close and personal… okay, that shouldn’t be doing things to me.
This is my fucking friend. I refuse to be attracted to him because he’s the only male I truly trust. I don’t want to jeopardize a friendship by sleeping with him and ruining what we have; which is what will inadvertently happen if we let it.
“You gonna get on or just gape at me all night?”
Just to prove he’s wrong and I’m right, I start to shimmy my skirt up my legs and his eyes dip. He scratches his chin, then palms the back of his neck as the material slowly rises.
“See?” I do a twirl and he laughs.
“Put this on.” He hands me a helmet and I frown.
“C’mere.” I move toward him and he pulls the helmet down slowly, fixing the strap so it’s tight and won’t go anywhere.
“You really are some kind of saint,” I sigh.
He smirks. “Nah, I’m pretty sure they kicked me outta heaven for misbehavin’.”
“Of that I have no doubt.” Moving behind him, I swing my leg over, and at the same time my dress gives way and the ripping sound rings in the air.
His shoulders shake. “Told ya.”
I whack him on the shoulder. “You were just dying to be right for once, weren’t you?”
“Come on, I’m gonna take you to get a burger, then you’re gonna burn that dress and never wear it again.”
My heart hitches in my chest as I settle in behind him, my coochie practically on display because my dress is now rucked up around my hips. “Hey, this is my go-to dress which cost a lot of money, and I can still fix it. ”
He turns to the side, patting me on the thigh. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh?”
His voice is husky when he says, “If this dress doesn’t exist, it’ll be better for everyone concerned.” With that, he starts the engine as it roars to life, deafening any reply I have on my tongue as I wrap my arms around his waist.
This man really will be the death of me in more ways than one.