ONE
Three years ago.
Throttle
“We got a new bartender coming in tonight, and I want you two to leave her alone. Don’t need her fleeing before she even starts. And I know you guys can’t keep it in your damn pants.” Our President points a meaty finger in our direction.
“Woah, us? Me? Come on Chain, I’m a gentleman.” Although, I’m the club flirt, and everyone knows it. Women flock to me like a moth to a flame.
Tank laughs. “Gentleman, my ass. You accumulate a heap of snatch panties beside your bed.
That is also true. I have an assortment. A variety. Pink, black, lace, G-string. What do they call those between a thong and a full panty? Oh. Cheeky.
Those are my favorite.
A little entertainment and souvenirs hurt no one.
“Jesus Christ, I don’t want to hear what you two and your dicks do in your free time. Be on your best behavior and don't make her uncomfortable, like she's about to be devoured.”
“I can arrange that if she wants.” I wiggle my brows, and Chain snorts, walking away. “What? I’m kidding, it’s a joke.”
“Brother, sometimes I worry about you.” Tank chugs the rest of his beer, rolling his eyes.
Tank’s my dude. But I take full advantage of being young, carefree, and able to fuck who I like and wherever I like.
“No one needs to be concerned. I've never been happier living my best damn life.”
“That may be true, but you should slow down before your dick falls off,” Tank jokes.
“Don’t worry about my pecker. Worry about yours and how neglected it is because, my man, your hand is not what it wants.”
“Fuck you.”
“No thanks, brother. I like pussy. It's fine swinging the other way, but it's not my strong suit. I’d waste my knowledge.”
“On that note, I’m gonna go get a workout in. Don’t forget about tonight.” Tank slides out from his stool, taking him and his gigantic frame outside.
How can I forget? My purpose in life is this. To remove the evil. Destroy the ones who deserve to be destroyed. Protect those who can’t protect themselves. And when it involves something fucked up, like hurting people weaker than you, well hell, it’s an addiction.
They need someone to avenge them. And that’s us.
Ohio is notorious for human trafficking. Sure, we can wait for the cops to bring these sick bastards down. But it’s like waiting for paint to dry. We have our own resources. That's when we step in. We take justice into our own hands and occasionally the feds choose to turn a blind eye.
Sometimes.
Nightfall brings me face-to-face with a despicable scum bag. With Chain and Bullet as spectators, I strike the nasty bastard's jaw with a powerful blow.
There’s nothing I enjoy more than beating the piss out of someone who deserves it.
“P-Please. I’m sorry, man, it wasn’t me. I swear,” low life stutters, begging and pleading.
“No?” I bend down to his level as he lies there like a sack of shit on the ground. “Then who was it? It seemed to me that you were getting too close to an innocent kid from where we were standing. In fact, that disgusts me to the point where I could shoot you right now.”
"I was being nice," he coughs, blood splattering onto my boot.
Motherfucker.
“Being nice?” I laugh in disgust. “How does it feel to know you won’t be leaving here alive tonight?”
This is a test. Chain wants to ensure I can cut it before he patches me in. I've been prospecting long enough. It's time for me to become a member of the Steel Valley Chains and handle the big boy stuff. Nothing excites me more than taking down the bad guys, and this is easy.
As I lift the breathing insect by his throat, my muscles flex and burn. “You’re gonna wish you were never born when I get done with you.”
The fear in his eyes is enough to quench my bloodthirsty hunger.
Almost.
As I leave the abandoned shed, I wipe my knuckles clean of his blood before going back to our bikes. I cast a final glance before throwing my lighter. Flames engulf the gasoline covered wood within seconds and I can’t help but smile. We don’t always take lives. Unless it’s sick fucks like these. Then we have no problem doing it. I promised to make a positive impact on the world, and this was my chance.
This was my way.
Surrounded by the heat of the fire, I brush away a small droplet of sweat from my forehead.
“You did great, son.” Chain squeezes my shoulder, and I pretend it’s my father praising me for the job well done. But the thought of him brings a bitter taste to my mouth. I haven't seen my parents since I turned eighteen and I prefer it to stay that way.
“You good? First one’s always the hardest. And I can’t promise there won’t be more.”
More killings. More blood on our hands.
I grin at the father figure holding my shoulder. “I’ve never been more ready.”
Chain doesn’t smile, only nods. “All right, we better roll out.”
We start our Harleys, and I steal one last glimpse at the falling-apart shed. With the crackling of the wood, it’s soothing and therapeutic.
When we arrive at the clubhouse, Angel, our lone female member, is sauntering up with a killer expression.
I dismount from my bike and remove some ash from my leather cut. “What? The heavens weren’t good to you tonight?”
She looks like shit, and that’s impossible.
“Fuck you, Throttle. I’m not in the mood.” She stomps inside the club with a pair of sexy looking stripper heels.
I would have pursued her if she wasn't in the same circle, but she is, and I view her as family. A sister with one hell of an attitude.
Within the clubhouse, the music is blaring, and people are chatting. It’s home. I don't experience the same feeling anywhere else. And after tonight, I needed a damn drink.
I make a direct path to the bar, aware it's the new bartender's first shift. How on Earth did this woman agree to work in a biker club? Our rap in town isn't the best.
I stop and admire her from a distance before striding up to the counter. As I gaze at her back, I can't help but appreciate her shapely figure, flawless olive skin, and flowing chocolate locks. My mouth twitches at the subtle, yet sexy, rose tattoo on her delicate neck. It seems she has a minor rebellion in her. With every twist and turn, her curves are on full display, and I find myself unable to look away from this pretty little thing.
My cock stirs as she blows out an overwhelming breath, taking a strand of her hair with it. And the way she bites her bottom lip…
Damn.
I take a seat on the stool in front of her, with her back still to me. As she turns around, her candy scent reaches me and it's one of the most delightful aromas I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing.
She gasps and freezes, while all I do is smirk.
The glass she's gripping slips from her hand and shatters onto the floor. “Crap,” her soft voice quivers and she bends over, sending her tits spilling out of that cute little tank top she’s wearing. Despite their small size, they’re perfect on her. “I’m so sorry, hi. What can I get you? And please order nothing fancy, I’m still trying to memorize the drink menu. Would you like a beer? I can’t tell you what kind we have at the moment, but if you’re not picky, it’ll make my life so much easier right now.” She takes a breath and catches a good look at my club’s cut I’m wearing. “Oh, this is your club too, isn’t it? Oh God, I just humiliated myself. I’m sorry. Whatever you like, I can get you. Unless it’s that special drink, then no, I can’t. Oh my God, please don’t fire me.” She takes another deep breath and then leans on the counter for stability.
Holy shit, this girl is adorable. Scared as hell, but adorable.
“First, I’m not going to fire you.” I rest a hand on hers and a spark zaps through me. “Second, it’s not my club. I’m just a prospect, and you are way too pretty to be stressed.” I wink, giving her a reassuring smile and her cheeks warm with a rose color tint on them. “And three, I’ll take a beer. And no, I’m not picky.” I do only drink a certain beer, but I’ll bite the bullet for her.
She finally exhales the breath she had been holding. Damn near passing out. “Oh, thank you.” She grabs a bottle from the cooler and pops it open, setting it down. “Sorry, I ramble when I’m nervous.”
I contain a laugh. “Don’t be, you’re doing great.” I smile and when she returns the gesture, my stomach sinks.
Fucking Christ, she is beautiful.
To speak, I have to clear my throat. Since when have I been at a loss for words? “I go by the name Throttle.”
She blinks. “I’m Hazel. Before you mention it, yes, my eyes are hazel green, and yes, my parents named me after them. They were hoping my eyes would eventually turn green. They loved the color green so much—they painted our entire house in the color. Now that I've said it out loud, it’s strange, and I realize I shouldn't share that story with others.” Her adorableness just hit a record high for me, and I can’t help not staring at her.
Fuck, I can watch her all day.
“It’s not weird. Well, maybe a little.” I take a sip of my most hated beer and pretend to enjoy it. “It’s perfect, but you look more like a tequila. Tequila Rose.” I grin and she blushes again, sending it straight down to my cock.
Her eyes widen. “Wait a minute. Did you just give me a pet name?”
Exactly.
“Don’t take offense. Everyone gets some sort of nickname here. We have our road names and the girls have theirs. That's just how it is.” Not her. I will never group her in with a hang-around.
“Gotcha.” When she bites her bottom lip again, I swallow the lump deep in my throat.
Jesus.
“Don’t worry, my little rose. I’ll teach you everything there is to be taught about a biker club.”
“Sounds intimidating.”
Like any other desirable woman I see, I would have tried to get her in my bed, but she’s different. I can feel it. Sense it. She’s not like these other women—these snatches or hang-arounds. She has morals. And I’ll be smart to leave well enough alone. I’ll be doing her a favor by staying away. I won’t sink my dirty claws into her, even though she’s tempting as fuck. She's too adorable and innocent, which isn't my type.
It’s disappointing, but for the best. I would destroy her. And I have a desire to protect this girl. Keep her locked away from the outside evil. Which includes me.
“Listen, I gotta pick up my dirt bike from the shop, but tomorrow I’ll teach you some things you’ll need to know around here.” I slap a twenty-dollar bill down on the counter.
“You ride a dirt bike?” Her eyes light up, causing me to grin like a puppy.
“Yup, race all the time. Bought her last year, but I like to make sure she gets a checkup once in a while. You like dirt bikes?” My curiosity takes over. I’ve never met another woman who’s interested in my deepest loved hobby and passion.
“Um, well, sort of. Watching my brother race was something I always enjoyed. It was invigorating.”
She likes motocross. Damn, if I wanted any type of relationship, she’d be my girl. Handed to me on a silver platter.
“I’ll tell you what. You can come watch me sometime. Having a fan there would be cool.”
“Seriously?” A shy, but excited smile sweeps over her, and she tucks that lovely hair behind her ear.
What if she thinks I’m leading her on? Although I am interested. We will never happen.
Is it okay to be friends with this girl? Is it possible for me to be just friends with a woman without wanting to stick my dick inside her?
“Sure thing.” I go to stand, sending her a reassuring wink. “I’ll catch ya later, Tequila.”
Her smile is like a dagger straight to my core. An odd and unfamiliar emotion.
“Hey! This is way too much for a tip,” she yells.
“Keep it. You’re worth the money.” As I turn around to leave, I notice the stunned expression on her face.
If I don't calm down with her, it will end badly.
For both of us.
Cheers to a new friendship, I suppose. One I hope I am capable of.