Hard Rider (A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance)

by Wild, Nikki

  Hey, Doll, it’s Clyde.

  Listen… heard about all that fuss last night, and I’m sorry to hear that you wound up in a little trouble. Happy to say that it’s all been taken care of.

  I can’t have this kind of thing happening in my restaurant. I won’t be needing you to come in again.

  If I’m not being clear, you’re fired.

  Don’t bother trying to use me as a reference in the future.

  “Well, at least that’s not a fucking surprise,” I groaned as I sat back in bed. “That place was a piece of shit anyway… Good riddance to that asshole and his stuck-up crew of waitresses.”

  “I’m sorry that you lost your job,” Grizz spoke as reassuringly as he could manage. “Maybe if I hadn’t shown up…”

  “Don’t be stupid,” I muttered. “If you hadn’t been there, it could have been worse. I’m still trying to figure things out with you, but I can’t ignore that you fought off a bunch of fucking thugs for me.”

  He quietly smiled, but the grin was gone as quickly as it had shown up.

  “The timing sucks, though,” I complained. “I’m already behind on rent as it is, and the fridge needs some groceries soon…”

  “What if I help?” Grizz offered.

  I looked at him like he’d lost his goddamn mind, which he must have if he thought I was going to become a charity case anytime soon.

  “I can handle my own shit, Grizz. Just like I had to before, after you left.”

  Grizz looked hurt, but he didn’t contest the point.

  “Well,” he thought aloud, “I can start by making things as easy as possible on you. What if I treat you to lunch later?”

  “You already cooked me breakfast in bed,” I waved to the empty plates. “You don’t have to be so goddamn heavy-handed. I’ll just find something else to do. Lafayette’s not small even by Louisiana standards. There’s work to be had here.”

  “Will you be happy?” He asked.

  I didn’t have an answer for that.

  “Not going to get my last check if I don’t turn my work uniforms in,” I muttered. “Might want to go ahead and do that part and just get it out of the way.”

  “The checks a waitress gets are zeroed out from the tips,” Grizz said. “Even if there’s a few dollars left, they’ll just subtract off damages from the fight. You’ll never see another dime from that place.”

  “And when exactly did you become an expert on the food industry?” I asked.

  “Our headquarters are a bar out in El Paso. I used to keep the books straight and managed the place when the boss was away. I’ve signed enough paychecks to know how things work.”

  “You managed a bar? That doesn’t sound like the Grizz I know.”

  He smiled knowingly. “Doesn’t it?”

  “I… guess I don’t know.”

  “There is plenty that you do not know, Kate,” Grizz smiled as he rose from the bed, taking our dishes. “But you will, soon enough…”

  “Yeah?” I asked. “Aren’t you leaving?”

  Grizz paused, reflecting on that. “Yes,” he answered, before repeating: “Soon enough.”

  He turned away, leaving the room with his arms full of plates. While I heard the kitchen faucet run from the other room, I wondered what he meant by that…

  And why I found myself smiling.

  Grizz

  Kate and I were working in a gray area. An unspoken quiet fell over us while we rode around town for a few hours. While she ran a couple of errands, I stood out by the bike, my arms firmly crossed.

  Louisiana was rarely anything close to “cold”, but there was a surprising crispness to the air.

  I was enjoying the fresh autumn sun as Kate wandered outside from her local bank. As she approached, I noted that her head was shaking with irritation and grief.

  “Energy bill was high last month,” she groaned. “This fucking cold snap could have come, you know, a little earlier.”

  “September’s usually a bit warmer I take it?”

  She flashed me a glance. “It’s Louisiana. The only two goddamn seasons this place gets are Sweaty Summer and Christmas.”

  I chuckled, but she didn’t care that the joke landed. “I’m down to the skin of my fucking teeth, Grizz. Never gonna make rent like this.”

  “You’ll find a way,” I told her. “You were resourceful back in the day. I’m sure you haven’t lost your edge.”

  “Maybe,” she groaned. “Wanna grab a bite?”

  “Sure,” I nodded, helping her onto the back of my motorcycle. “Let’s get lunch.”

  We settled on another diner in town. Over our toasted club sandwiches and chips, I was hoping to avoid more questions about my past.

  That could wait.

  “So, you said you guys did your biker shit out of a bar?” Kate asked, ignoring my hopes as she took another bite. “Tell me about this place.”

  I turned away. “It was a temporary gift from a client we protected. She’s back in town, and we all knew it wouldn’t last forever. It’s only right we give the place back to her, and besides, there’s nobody out there looking for protection these days.”

  “Wait, isn’t that good?”

  “It’s bad for business,” I curtly smiled. “We did our job too damn well and there’s no bad guys left to protect people from. Criminals aren’t stupid. When word got out that the Devil’s Dragons were shining the light on the filth, the roaches scattered and got the hell out of our kitchen. Must have made one hell of an impression, because even here, our reputation precedes us.”

  “You mean how Mark recognized your club?” she asked

  “Like I said, we haven’t done business this far out before. It makes me wonder if it will be easier to find leads in New Orleans… or harder.”

  “What exactly did you guys do?” Kate demanded, forcing my gaze to meet hers with the insistence in her voice. “Why does he know who you are, and why are you so surprised?”

  I chewed on my words.

  “That biker gang he’s joined,” I started to ask. “Who were they again, the Bayou Boys?”

  She nodded agreement.

  “Never heard of them. Far as I’m aware, we haven’t come across their club during our little adventures… But it’s not impossible that the things we’ve been up to have made their way out here. Particularly if they have anything to do with the arms dealer we took down…”

  “Arms dealer?” She lifted an eyebrow.

  She thought she was being coy, but I had been watching her carefully. Kate’s face had been growing flush during the conversation, and I could pick up on all those little signs…

  Kate was an open book when we were teenagers. I knew all of her tells, and exactly when she was turned on.

  Listening to me, trying to not stare at me… I knew that she was turned on.

  So was I.

  It was true. I still carried a torch for her, after all this time. I’d lost a lot of sleep at night, thinking of the days long past… and just being near her fucking did something to me all over again.

  If only I can get her into my arms again…

  “Arms dealer?” She repeated, lifting an eyebrow as she started to realize that this sexual frustration between us was a two-way street.

  I opened my mouth to answer, but the waiter brought the check by. Glancing around, he quietly lowered himself down.

  “Kate, right?”

  “Yeah,” she replied cautiously.

  “I used to wash dishes at Waffle Shack…” he said, but his face made it clear this wasn’t just some kid catching up with a long lost co-worker. I looked to Kate and saw a small spark of recognition.

  “There’s someone looking around for you,” he told her. “You didn’t hear it from me… but they were in here first thing asking if you’d put in a job application. They said you might be with someone… Dangerous…”

  He glanced up at me, trying to square his shoulders and look tougher than he was.

  “Do you need my help?”


  It was at this point I noticed the steak knife he was holding with a white knuckle death grip. I’d already had enough fucking knife fights in this shithole town, and I wasn’t about to take down a goddamned kid. Even so, my hand instinctively gripped the edge of the heavy table, ready to toss the thing into his face if he made a wrong move.

  “He’s with me, and he’s not dangerous,” Kate said calmly. “But thank you…”

  I slapped a few bills against the check and pushed it to the center of the table. “We appreciate the warning. Keep the change.”

  The waiter nodded and quickly left us, having successfully completely fucked up the atmosphere. I put Kate on the back of her bike before mounting and heading off.

  We headed straight for her home.

  While I hung back as a lookout, she quickly unlocked the door. I followed her inside, walking into complete and utter chaos.

  Furniture lay upended.

  Books were torn and scattered.

  Broken dishes lay across the floor.

  It looked like we’d just missed the human typhoon that ran though this place. The same typhoon that was in town looking for us now…

  “Mark,” Kate muttered in defeat. “Mark did this. Him and those meatheads he brings along wherever he goes.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, lifting a broken plate to mindlessly examine it.

  I wasn’t sure what to do.

  What can I say to make this better?

  “Were they waiting for us to leave?” Kate asked, turning to me suddenly. “Were they watching us last night?”

  I placed the dish back down, running my fingers along the scattered pages. They seemed to have been ripped out in handfuls and tossed in the air, spread all over.

  There was something about the pattern of destruction that painted a very clear picture to me.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I noted.

  “Then what?” She threw her hands up in frustration. “We weren’t even gone for more than a couple of hours!”

  My fingers fell upon a broken frame. I lifted it carefully, not wanting to slice my fingers against the shattered glass.

  I didn’t recognize the people.

  Probably her family.

  “Grizz?” She repeated.

  “Your ex-boyfriend is emotional,” I concluded, rising up from my knees. “Possibly drunk.”

  “Yeah? No shit, Sherlock.”

  I ignored the need to glare at her.

  “What I mean is that he wasn’t trying to send a message. This is a child throwing a tantrum.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “I don’t know what the hell he thought he was accomplishing by screwing up my apartment.”

  “Think about it, Kate,” I pushed her. “Your car was sitting outside. He probably thought that you were home.”

  Concerned, she bit her bottom lip.

  “What do you think I should do?”

  I sighed, glancing around the wreckage. “You’re not safe here. He’s going to come back…”

  Kate groaned, her hand to her forehead. “I’m already struggling to pay the bills as it is… I can’t afford another apartment here! Christ, I’ve only had this place a few months…”

  I let her vent for a minute, stepping around the countertop and into the kitchen. The floor crunched with broken glass and ceramic beneath my boots. Half the cabinets were emptied, and some of the doors dangled on their broken hinges.

  He’d done a number on this place.

  Did nobody else hear this? Why didn’t anyone call the cops?

  “There is a solution,” I told her as I surveyed the damage. “You’re not going to like it, but it’s the only one that I have.”

  “I know,” Kate answered bitterly.

  As I turned back to face her, she looked up from the destruction that surrounded us. An entire conversation happened in that three seconds of eye contact, and I watched the defeat paint itself across her face.

  “How long?” I asked her.

  Her answer came with a sigh.

  “Ten minutes. Maybe less.”

  I nodded, excusing myself outside to play lookout while she scrambled across the apartment for anything that she needed.

  Not much later, Kate stepped outside with a backpack slung over her shoulder. Locking the door behind herself, she stepped over to my motorcycle, gracefully mounting it behind me.

  “The sooner we leave…”

  “I know,” she stopped me. “Just take me to my landlord. She’s probably not home, but I can leave her a note and the keys. I owe her an explanation for ditching town with a trashed apartment. She knows what kind of guy Mark is. She’ll understand…”

  Kate gave me the directions on the way. I kept my eyes peeled for any signs that we were being followed, but nobody seemed to take more than a fleeting interest in us.

  As she’d predicted, the driveway was deserted. Kate pulled a notebook and pen from her backpack and hastily jotted down a note that explained the situation, ended with an apology, and taped the key to the paper. After folding and dropping it in the mail slot, she was back on my bike in less than three minutes.

  Neither of us tried to exchange a single word as I took the bike back down to the interstate. We didn’t have to. All that mattered were the miles as we hit I-10 going eastward, and keeping Lafayette in the rearview mirrors.

  I felt her settle in the seat behind me, her arms tightening aground my chest.

  My heart was heavy for her.

  Simply coming back into her life, even by pure accident, had already caused her so much grief.

  But this time…

  This time, things would be different. No matter what, I refused to make the same mistakes again. I would keep her safe. I would protect Kate with my life.

  It’s so easy to make those promises.

  But all the conviction in the world can’t do a damned thing when you’re up against enemies you can’t see coming.

  And danger still surrounded us…

  Kate

  Grizz took me to Metairie, a small but sprawled suburb. Short on trees and built on the usual flat Louisianan ground, it was met on three sides by the endless wetlands, the massive Lake Ponchartrain, and the magical New Orleans itself.

  He decided to pause and top off his tank at a gas station. I hovered near the bike, thinking about the sharp turns my life had taken in the last twenty-four hours.

  I wasn’t sure what to do, where to go, or why I had silently agreed to accompany him. My place in his world, and his in mine? That was still in a dark, murky spot in my mind.

  What the hell happens next?

  The biker wandered back outside from the convenience store. I watched his confident swagger, the chains dangling from his rugged jeans. I couldn’t deny how sexy he looked with that restrained, powerful stare as he approached.

  I can’t let him have this effect on me.

  Easier said than done.

  “Where are we staying?” I asked, watching his powerful movements. It was a struggle to not lick my lips.

  “Here,” Grizz answered, spinning a finger in the air while he walked.

  “In Metairie?”

  Grizz stopped in front. Smirking, his head crooked slightly, he chuckled out his words. “You got a problem with Metairie?”

  My answer was defiant. “No.”

  “Good,” Grizz nodded, looking around outside the gas station to the sprawling nothingness around. “Because this just might be home for a little while.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “What made you pick here? Why not just New Orleans? Didn’t that club send you with some money?”

  “They did, but funds are running tight as it is. No reason to start draining the account if we’re here longer than a couple of weeks,” Grizz replied. “Somewhere cheap and close is better. Besides, I like having a little more room than we’d get in the city.”

  “Do you even know where we’re staying yet? Picked a place?”

  “Thought I’d wing it. Trust me, the righ
t door will open.”

  That was the Grizz I remembered – handsome, confident… and cocky. I had wondered how long it was going to take him to let out some of that old arrogance… He seemed so dead certain that the universe would provide.

  “So, no plan then?”

  “I’ll find us a place,” Grizz nodded, fiddling with the pump. He plugged it into the gas tank on his bike. “We’ll get a motel for the night. Might try and rent a place after that, just for a little while. Something tells me this little trip has some surprises in store for us.”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “Simple shit has turned sideways hard for the Dragons the last year or so. Maybe we’re cursed now. I’d like to be wrong, but… there’s something strange in the air. I don’t like it.”

  Grizz absentmindedly tugged at the cross around his neck before mounting his bike. I climbed on behind him, wrapping my arms around his leather jacket.

  We pulled into a nearby motel. While I watched the bike, he sauntered inside to secure a room.

  Five minutes became ten, then twenty, then half an hour. I was already beyond nervous when he finally came back outside.

  “What the hell was that?”

  Grizz shook his head. “Found us somewhere better.”

  “What? How?”

  “Bulletin board, up for job postings and shit. There was an ad for a house for rent. It’s cheap… bad neighborhood, probably. I called the owner. Arranged a meet.”

  “When?”

  “Now,” he answered, mounting the bike.

  We drove further into Metairie and stopped by an ATM. After he withdrew some money from the club account, we continued down the main highway running through town, Veteran’s Boulevard.

  My eyes scanned the storefronts as we pushed past the commercial areas – fast food joints and cell phone stores quickly becoming apartment complexes and houses.

  Grizz took us down a short side street, stopping in front of a small house where an old rust-bucket of a car was parked.

  He killed the ignition, and I climbed down. Grizz followed suit, turning to face the stranger who stepped out of the car. She was in her upper forties, wearing worker’s clothes with a thick mane of wispy, prematurely graying hair.