Blind Date with a Billionaire Biker (Blind Date Disasters Book 3)

by Evangeline Kelly

  He turned to me. “He thinks we’re here to fill in during the strike. I’m only explaining.”

  “Look at how we’re dressed. We’re obviously not filling in. He’s looking for a fight.”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  There was a blaring noise from a bull horn, and my eyes followed the sound to a line of police officers dressed in combat gear. My mouth dropped open as the full reality of the situation sunk in.

  “Do not cross this line,” one of the officers yelled through the loudspeaker.

  A man wearing an orange hard hat stepped forward, and he had his own bull horn. “We know our rights. You can’t hold us back.”

  A siren wailed in the distance and grew louder as several police SUVs approached. The drivers parked and officers poured out of the vehicles, looking like they belonged to SWAT, but I wasn’t sure. I had never seen that many officers before.

  “I told you we shouldn’t be here,” I whispered in Peter’s ear. “Believe me now?”

  His jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply because something had caught his attention. I turned to see what he was looking at and my heart stopped so suddenly pain rippled through my chest. The man in the orange hard hat was attempting to cross the line, and a group of officers wrestled with him to get him under control.

  There were shouts from the picketers and then a few threw down their signs and ran into the street. One man had a rock in his hand, and he hurled it in the direction of the police officers, hitting one on the head. He went down fast, and that was all it took. The area erupted as officers tried to take down the offenders. There were no longer any lines—people were everywhere and there was shouting and screaming and more sirens going off.

  “We have to get out of here.” I turned to Peter, only he wasn’t standing next to me anymore.

  “Peter,” I yelled, spinning around, searching for him, but he was nowhere in sight. “Peter, where are you?” The panic in my voice rose, and adrenaline shot through me like a rush of water. “Peter!”

  And then I saw him, running in the distance. He was heading back in the same direction we had come from—without me. He left me. I can’t believe he left me.

  I didn’t have time to dwell on that because a man threw something at a vehicle right next to me, and it caught on fire. Several other vehicles were hit after that, and they all lit up like large candles underneath the dark sky. Two other men came barreling in my direction, locked together with fists flying. Screaming, I moved out of the way just in time. They stumbled over the sidewalk and wrestled with each other as the world around me went up in flames.

  Lord, help me.

  A rock hit the building I was standing in front of, just inches above my head. I crouched down, covering my head with my forearms as the rock splintered into pieces. There was a loud rumbling noise, and I glanced over to see a man on a Harley pulling up to the side of the road not far from where I stooped.

  Goosebumps broke out on my skin at the sight of him. He was a big bear of a guy with large shoulders and a scowl on his face. His black leather jacket fit over his muscular frame, and his dark hair blew in the wind. He wasn’t dressed like the picketers. In fact, I was pretty sure he wasn’t associated with them at all, but if looks meant anything, he had bad news written all over him.

  Someone hauled me to my feet, and as I turned to see who it was, raw, unbridled fear swept through me in waves. A man with thinning hair smiled, revealing several yellow teeth. He had black soot all over his face, and his rancid breath caused me to draw back. His tattered clothes looked as if he hadn’t changed in years. “Look what we have here,” he said, cackling. “A little snack to hold me over.” He obviously wasn’t with the picketers, and by all appearances, he might have been homeless.

  “Let me go.” I attempted to free myself from his grasp, but he was too strong.

  He laughed and began to tug on my arm. I screamed so loudly my throat burned, but it was useless. The noise and destruction all around hid what was happening.

  Oh, Lord, please…no. I looked for a police officer, but it was foggy and hard to see. Blood pounded through my veins as I tried to stamp down my terror. The air emptied out of my lungs while I fought to hold my ground, but he was twice my size and easily pulled me along. My feet dragged as he hauled me down the street, and then out of nowhere, a large fist hit him on the side of his face, and he released me…just like that.

  The man in the leather jacket pushed me back and stepped in between us. He wrestled with the man and threw a few punches until he went down.

  He took hold of my elbow and led me towards his motorcycle. “I need to get you to safety.” His voice was deep and gravely and the depth of it sent shivers racing across my skin.

  “Wait, no.” I pulled back, and he instantly released me. “I can’t go with you.” You are way too scary. I wanted to say that, but, of course, I didn’t. I was no fool. Poking the bear when you were in danger wasn’t a good idea.

  His eyes flamed. “I’m not leaving you, and I’m not leaving my bike, so you’ll have to come with me.”

  I glanced around, hoping for someone else to intervene. “No. No, I can’t. I’m not going with you.”

  His expression relaxed as his eyes swept across my face. “You can trust me. I won’t hurt you.” He said it with conviction, his gray eyes softening.

  “How do I know that?”

  “I saved you from that man, didn’t I?”

  “You could be worse than he is.”

  I didn’t expect him to laugh, but that was exactly what he did, and the sound of his rich voice sent chills down my back. He ran a hand over his mouth and smiled. “Do I look that bad? I just want to get you out of here, sweetness.”

  Sweetness. The word seemed to roll off his tongue like candy, and I wasn’t sure what to think of that.

  His grin lit up his face, and I sucked in a breath because holy moly…he was striking when he smiled.

  I hesitated and glanced around, not seeing any officers nearby, but the shouting continued. It was getting intense, and I did need his help. If I refused it, I would be on my own. “Fine. I’ll go with you.” Lord, please tell me I’m not making the wrong choice here.

  He led me to his motorcycle, and I wavered for a moment because I’d never been on one of those before. Glancing around, I knew there wasn’t time to waffle. I needed to make a decision…and now. Deciding it was best to get out of this place, I climbed on after him, feeling awkward since I’d worn a skirt. At least it was a flowy one and could be tucked under my legs. After revving his engine, the man turned and put a helmet on my head. “Hold on to my waist.”

  When I didn’t make a move, he reached back and pulled my hands around his middle. “Don’t let go.”

  And then we were off, and the wind whipped through me, chilling me to the bone. The back of his jacket had an emblem with a large cross, but I didn’t take a good look. I closed my eyes and held on tighter, knowing that if I observed everything around us, I might scream and fall off the bike.

  After a few minutes, he pulled over and stopped. He got off and assisted me to my feet. Taking off my helmet, he looked me over. “See? You’re safe and sound. Told you I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  Our eyes met and something passed between us—understanding, maybe. He wasn’t all that bad. “You did. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He hadn’t taken his eyes off me yet, and it felt like my stomach erupted in butterflies, but it couldn’t be that. I couldn’t be feeling that for this guy. He had a rough-around-the-edges exterior that should have sent me into panic mode, but, instead, I felt myself relaxing.

  “Tirzah!” Peter jogged over, and I realized we were in front of the parking garage where we’d left the car. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  He obviously wasn’t looking that hard since he was a good distance away from where he’d left me. My entire body stiffened, and I refused to look at him or even acknowledge his presence. Instead, I stepped closer to the
scary man in the black leather jacket who wasn’t quite as frightening now that I knew he was a man of his word.

  He jerked his chin towards Peter. “You know this guy?”

  I nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend.”

  “Fiancé,” Peter corrected.

  “We haven’t taken that step yet.” I lowered my voice. “And I don’t think we will.”

  Peter’s eyes widened. “Tirzah—”

  “Not now.” I glanced back at the man who’d saved me, but he was already getting on his bike and fastening the helmet. “Wait,” I said. “I didn’t even get your name.”

  He winked at me. “Try to stay out of trouble.” Before I could say another word, he took off on his motorcycle like a black streak in the wind, and a part of me wondered if he was real or if my imagination was playing tricks on me.

  Chapter 2

  Tizzy

  Current day…

  The package was addressed to me. I rarely received letters let alone an actual box, so I wasn’t sure what to think. I picked it up off our porch and brought it inside, noting there was no return address.

  It felt relatively light when I shook it, and it didn’t make a noise. Using a pair of scissors, I ripped open the front and pulled out a large fluffy brown teddy bear. It had a red ribbon around its neck and the fur was soft to the touch. Glancing back at the box, I searched for a note or invoice or something that would tell me who this was from, but there was nothing, not even tissue paper. Weird.

  I checked the top of the box and confirmed one more time that it had my name on it. Who could this be from? It had to be Peter. Ugh. He was the last person I wanted a gift from, but wouldn’t he have sent a note with it? He’d only given me a few gifts during our courtship, but he’d always handed them to me personally.

  Maybe he was getting desperate. Or, to be more precise, his parents and mine were growing desperate. My church frowned upon broken courtships, and as unfair as it was, it made it harder to find a proper match the second time around. People tended to think that if the couple couldn’t make it work, there must be something wrong with one or both parties.

  After the incident with the strike, I’d returned home and told my parents I no longer wanted to marry Peter. At first, they’d sided with me and thought Peter had been reckless to take me to that part of town, but over the last couple of years, he and his parents managed to convince them that I was at least partially to blame. Peter said he’d told me to stay close to his side, and he assumed I was right behind him when he ran. He further stated that by the time he turned around, I was gone. He’d basically insinuated that I had left him, not the other way around. He even went as far as to say that if I hadn’t disappeared with the man on the motorcycle, he would have found me and brought me to safety immediately.

  To me, it seemed obvious that his story was full of holes and completely ridiculous. For one, why didn’t he make sure I was with him when he ran? From what I saw, he just took off without a glance back. Second, we reunited in front of the parking garage, so he wasn’t out looking for me like he’d said. My parents wanted to believe the best about him because he was the golden boy they had chosen for me, and they were close to his parents. They made excuses and said it was a difficult situation.

  “Things happen. People get separated in emergencies all the time,” Mom had said.

  True, but in this case, I knew differently. It wasn’t a matter of us being separated. He left me. He was afraid, so he took off. It was as simple as that. Even with my feelings being what they were, I wouldn’t have taken off without him. Anyway, it was time to move on. Even if it meant I had to remain single for the rest of my life, I wouldn’t marry Peter. Now I just needed to convince my parents of that. They still weren’t ready to let go.

  If I had things my way, I’d get my own place along with a new job, but Dad said it was shameful for a single woman to live by herself. He believed marriage was the only acceptable reason to leave your parents’ home. So, like it or not, I was staying here for a while longer.

  I set the teddy bear on the coffee table and sat back down on the couch to finish the embroidery I was working on. It was a pillowcase for Mom with tons of embroidered flowers along the right side. Blowing out a breath, I continued my work and tried to forget about the unfortunate state of my life.

  Mom and Dad’s voices rose from the other room, and I stilled so I could hear more clearly. They rarely raised their voices because that would be a sign of losing one’s temper, and we were to behave in a temperate and meek way at all times. If they ever did, I knew it was over something important. When Mom’s voice rose even higher, I got up to find out what the commotion was about. I stopped short in the hallway next to their bedroom and did my best not to make a sound. The door was cracked open just enough that I could see their profiles. They were facing each other, and Dad had his hands on my Mom’s shoulders.

  “We can’t send her to my father,” Mom said, sounding choked up. “It would be like throwing her to the wolves.”

  Drawing back a little, I frowned. What was she talking about? Grandpa Miller passed away a year ago from kidney failure.

  Dad hung his head and let out a sigh. “All I’m saying is that we may have no other choice. Be prepared that this might be our only option.”

  I shifted the slightest bit, and the floor creaked. Both my parents instantly looked over and saw me. Great. They’d caught me spying.

  “Tirzah?” Mom’s voice squeaked. She didn’t sound angry, thank goodness. “Is that you?”

  I shrank back, clasping my hands in front of me. “Yes, sorry. It sounded like you were arguing. Is everything okay?”

  Dad walked over and opened the door all the way. Peering down at me, he smiled and ran a hand over the top of my head like he used to do when I was a little girl. “Everything’s fine, sweetheart. We were just discussing Mom’s hyperthyroidism. She had some tests done and needs to go back for a follow-up. It isn’t serious.”

  I frowned. “Hyperthyroidism?” It had sounded like they were talking about something else.

  “It’s nothing for you to worry about.” He forced a smile for my benefit.

  “It’s why I’ve been nervous and irritable lately,” Mom said. “Those are some of the symptoms.”

  “Okay…” I didn’t want to touch that with a ten-foot pole. “But I heard you talking about sending someone to your father? I don’t understand how that’s possible since Grandpa died years ago.”

  The blood drained from her face, and she looked paler than I’d ever seen her before. She shot a furtive glance to my father and then glanced back at me with apprehension in her eyes. Obviously, the discussion about hyperthyroidism was meant as a distraction.

  “You misunderstood,” Mom said. “But let’s forget about that. I need you to go with me to the grocery store before dinner. Your dad has an errand he has to do, and I don’t want you being alone in the house.”

  My brows drew together as I studied her face. She was definitely hiding something. “I’m twenty-two years old. You can leave me alone in the house.” Normally, I would have been more indignant except I had the feeling this wasn’t about my parents having difficulty respecting my adulthood—though that was generally an issue.

  Mom reached up to touch the blond curls that brushed the tops of her shoulders. “Oh, I know that. I just need your help.” She swallowed and glanced away for a second, then brought her gaze back to me. The tips of her lips lifted the slightest bit in a fake smile, but in all reality, she looked like she was going to be sick. Brushing past me, she let out a long breath. “Let’s go.” Her voice sounded strained…off.

  I followed her to the living room and picked up my purse. Dad followed close behind, and I stopped, turning to look at him. “What’s this errand you have to do?”

  “Thought it was a good time to check into a security system.”

  “Security system? But we live in a safe neighborhood.”

  Mom put her hand on my back and n
udged me towards the door. “Don’t ask questions. Your father knows what’s best for us.”

  “Okay…” They were acting so weird.

  On the drive to the store, Mom turned up the radio, and I stared at her with an incredulous expression because she never listened to the radio. She thought it was a tool of the devil to lead us astray. Whatever she was hiding, it must have been pretty big for her to resort to that.

  We pulled into a parking space just as a guy on a motorcycle parked next to us. He had blond hair, appeared to be in his early thirties, and he had a rough around the edges look that made me think of that man in the black leather jacket who’d shown up during the strike. I’d never forgotten him, and there were times at night I would lay in bed and remember the way he’d smiled after I’d asked about his intentions. He’d laughed like I’d said the funniest thing in the world. I often wondered what happened to him…where he lived and what he was doing. He was the mystery man who saved me…my angel…though he didn’t look like one.

  We got out of the car and headed to the entrance of the store. A woman stood out front holding a gray can. As we passed by, she said, “Can you spare some change? Just enough to buy food?”

  “Not today,” Mom said tersely. She brought her lips to my ear as we entered the store. “These people are a menace to society.”

  “But shouldn’t we help? Isn’t that the Christian thing to do?”

  “She’ll probably use the money for drugs. That’s what people like that do.”

  “Maybe we should buy her food then.”

  “Drop it, Tirzah,” she snapped. “I don’t have time for this today.”

  I held my hands up in the air and widened my eyes. “Okay. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You didn’t. I just want to find what we need and go. Tell you what, how about if you get the vegetables, and I’ll get the meat? We’ll meet back here in a few minutes.” She handed me her list and headed to the other side of the grocery store.

  I strode to the produce section and filled plastic bags with the items Mom needed. Just as I was putting asparagus into a bag, someone cleared his throat. I glanced over my shoulder and a man, appearing to be in his fifties, stood there holding a manila envelope. He had salt and pepper hair and a black mustache.