Pleasure, Montana 6
Bella’s Bad Bikers
Bella Andrews, a Miami socialite running for her life, hitches a ride with a bad-boy biker named Hawk. She agrees to hide out with him, his brother, and his best friend in Pleasure, Montana.
Hawk is a protective but haunted soul who is immediately attracted to Bella. Because he fears she’ll leave once she’s convinced she’s safe, he keeps his distance. His brother, Clete, is an entrepreneur who appreciates Bella’s keen sense of business. Too bad he’s unable to convince his brother to give her a chance. Hawk’s best friend, Raven, admires Bella’s ability to see him for the man he is, and he’s willing to do anything to convince her to stay when the passion flares between them.
When Hawk rebuffs Bella’s profession of love, she returns to Miami to confront the danger. What can the three men do to convince her to return to Montana for a ménage relationship?
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 52,803 words
BELLA’S BAD BIKERS
Pleasure, Montana 6
Melody Snow Monroe
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
BELLA’S BAD BIKERS
Copyright © 2012 by Melody Snow Monroe
E-book ISBN: 1-61926-463-3
First E-book Publication: February 2012
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
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Regarding E-book Piracy
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DEDICATION
To the real Hawk—Houston A.W. Knight. Thanks for your willingness to lend your name, and for the wonderful help with the book.
BELLA’S BAD BIKERS
Pleasure, Montana 6
MELODY SNOW MONROE
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Someone was following Bella Andrews, and she knew who it was. Shit. She thought she’d been so clever and done everything right. First, she’d had her fiancé drop her off at the Miami airport. Instead of flying to California, as she’d told him, she took a cab to the train station, where she bought a ticket to Los Angeles. Three miserable days later, she decided to get off in Denver, positive she’d spotted her fiancé’s bodyguard in one of the train cars. After a quick cab ride to a two-star hotel, she believed she’d lost the tail. With the hotel she’d chosen, no one would find her. She was a five-star hotel type of gal.
Instead of going the rest of the way by train, the next morning she hopped on a bus traveling west. Maybe paranoia was wreaking havoc with her mind, but she kept seeing men in black sedans all over the place. She couldn’t afford to get careless now. Renting a car would have been the most comfortable and convenient way to travel, but unfortunately that would require proof of insurance. The name on her license and the name on her insurance card didn’t match. Damn.
Public transportation wasn’t her thing, but if it meant her freedom, she’d suck it up and do it. The bastard bodyguard, Aldo, couldn’t hide on a bus. Because all of her friends as well as her fiancé knew she didn’t do cold weather, she decided to head northwest to throw him off track. Miami had been her home her whole life. Sunbathing and beach parties had been as much a part of her as horses and politics.
Now, she was in the middle of the country with no friends and less funds. Once she was seated on the worn, cramped bus, she watched each person get on. No one had bodyguard potential. Bella blew out a breath, feeling safe at last. A spark of hope edged its way into her body. She’d done it.
The bus took off, heading far, far away from Judge Bill Robbins, the man she thought she’d loved. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back, ready for this escape to be over. She’d been so exhausted that only when the bus stopped did she wake.
“Cheyenne, Wyoming,” the bus driver droned. “We’ll have a thirty-minute layover.”
Bella needed to use the bathroom and stretch her legs. As she was stepping down, she caught sight of that same familiar person out of the corner of her eye getting out of a black sedan. She blinked and took a closer look. She had to be imagining him. Aldo, Bill’s bodyguard, couldn’t have followed her. Not with changing from a train to a bus.
Shit, shit, shit. This wasn’t happening, but there he was. Did she have some tracking device in her suitcase? She wouldn’t put it past Bill to do something like that. Now what was she going to do? She couldn’t get on the bus again. Aldo would nab her for sure.
Think. The layover area had four fast-food restaurants in one convenient store. She ducked inside and headed into the women’s bathroom, her heart pounding fast. Remaining in Cheyenne wasn’t an option either. Aldo would figure out she hadn’t gotten back on the bus and kidnap her.
After her pulse slowed, she peeked her head out of the bathroom. She had clear sight to the bus. The bodyguard was standing right by the bus door. Crap. Her luggage was underneath in the compartments. Now she’d never get her stuff without him spotting
her. At least she had her purse. Lengthening the straps so she could move faster, she turned the shoulder purse into a small backpack and threaded her arms through both loops.
Four people were exiting the front door, laughing and being a distraction. That worked for her. Bella rushed to hide behind them. Keeping out of sight was hard since she was five foot eight and the people in front were two inches shorter. It didn’t help she was also wearing three-inch heels.
She slipped out behind them, practically in a squat to avoid detection. They headed to the gas pumps, which wasn’t her destination. As calmly as she could, she straightened and walked to the side of the building, praying Aldo didn’t notice her. Her palms were sweating, and it took all her effort not to run.
A tall, powerful-looking man wearing a helmet was climbing on his motorcycle. He turned the key and the engine roared to life. He might help her.
Go.
As soon as the building blocked Aldo’s view, she dashed toward this man, or as close to a dash as she could manage wearing high heels. She waved her arms to get his attention. He turned the front wheel and edged toward her, acting like he’d plow her down if she didn’t get out of his way.
She held her ground. Motorcycle Man twisted the handlebars to avoid the collision, but Bella jumped in front. “Wait.”
He tore off his full-face helmet. “Are you crazy? Get out of the way, lady.”
She stared. His dark, brooding looks scared the shit out of her. Early thirties, wide-set eyes, nice tan, and a full mouth that should have been used for kissing. Instead it was turned into a seriously mean frown.
Run.
Her body refused to budge. He might be a worse choice than going with Aldo. No. She’d never step foot in her house again. Bill was a cheat and a liar.
“I need help.” The bus driver was calling all his passengers onto the bus using a megaphone. She looked behind her, fearful Aldo would see her talking to this dude. “Please, let me go with you.”
“Are you crazy? I’m not taking someone like you even ten feet.”
She wouldn’t be deterred by his insults. “You don’t understand. There’s a man with a gun who wants to drag me back to Miami. I can’t go back there.”
He looked over her shoulder. He must have spotted Aldo, for his lips twitched and his hands tightened over the handlebars as if he wanted to beat the shit out of the bodyguard for threatening a woman. Or so she hoped that’s what he was thinking.
“Where you headed?”
Her chest expanded as a trickle of hope seeped into her lungs. Would he really help her? It would be dumb to give away too many details. In truth, she wasn’t sure where she was going. Seattle would be the final point, but how she got there was up in the air.
“Wherever you’re going.”
He seemed to stare at her for a long time. Once more he glanced at Aldo, who no doubt was searching the area for her. Then Mr. Motorcycle Man turned around and grabbed a spare helmet. “Put this on.” He waved a hand at her. “How do you expect to sit on the back of a motorcycle in a straight skirt? You got something else to put on?”
“It’s on the bus and we don’t have time.” She couldn’t get the suitcase without being noticed.
“You ever ridden on a Harley before?”
She’d never ridden on any motorcycle before. “No.”
“Get on the left side.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m taking a passenger who has no protection. Watch the tailpipe on the right. If your leg touches it, you’ll get burned.” He slapped down the foot pegs.
“I’ll be careful.” She hiked up her skirt to mid-hip and placed her foot on the metal spike. His eyes widened, but he didn’t leer, just looked surprised she’d lift her skirt to a complete stranger. Like she had a choice? In very unladylike fashion, she mounted behind him, pretending she was getting on a horse. Refusing to entertain what might happen to her in the next few hours being with a bad-boy biker, she said a prayer to St. Christopher, the patron saint of safe travel.
He leaned back his head. “One more thing. If I lean right, you lean right. Do not, I repeat, do not lean in the opposite direction or we’ll take a spill. Can you do that, lady?”
His voice came out so gruff all she could do was nod.
The helmet nearly suffocated her, but she understood she needed to wear one. He dragged on his, mumbled something she couldn’t make out, and sped away. Had she grabbed him around the waist a split second later, she would have flown off. He would have left her there. Of that she was sure.
Hitching a ride with a stranger might be the most stupid move of her life, but he was the only option. There hadn’t been another car pulling out at that moment. Plus, Aldo would never suspect she’d ever get on the back of a bike. Hell, she couldn’t believe she’d done it.
She leaned forward, suddenly convinced Aldo’s gaze was on her.
Don’t look back. Pretend you belong with this man.
Bella held on tight, but the slippery soles of her spiked heels kept sliding off the foot pegs. Why did she have to wear something so impractical? Looking good had been ingrained in her since childhood. Her father drilled into her that one never could know when a potential voter was around. Stupid rule.
The wind crawled up her legs and she shivered. She had to get better wear, like the leather outfit the driver wore. If by chance Aldo followed them and drove alongside, she’d be easy to spot with her bare legs sticking out of a now-short skirt. A horn honked and two men waved. Great. If someone snapped her picture, she might end up on Facebook. Just what she didn’t need.
They were on Interstate 25 heading north. Not her preferred direction, but right now she didn’t care if he was taking her to the frozen tundra of northern Canada. She just needed to hide, though she was doing everything wrong to avoid detection.
They’d just passed the Cheyenne airport when she saw a sign for a Walmart. Perfect. Uncertain how to tell her savior she needed to stop and purchase some new clothes, she knocked on his helmet. He tilted his head back and she pointed toward the exit. He held his palm upward, indicating he didn’t know what she wanted. She practically had to lean over his body and block his view with her waving arm.
“What do you want?” said a voice through her helmet, surprising her that they could communicate by talking.
Damn, he missed the exit. “It’s too late. I really needed to go to Walmart.”
All of a sudden, he yanked the motorcycle across the emergency lane then onto the grassy embankment and did a U-turn. The bike bounced on the pavement. Holy crap. Her butt came off the seat from the impact, and her heart nearly came out of her chest. Closing her eyes, she held on for dear life.
Before they made it to the stoplight at the next intersection, sirens sounded behind them. Had Aldo called the cops? No way he could have followed her. She wanted to tell Mr. Motorcycle Man to keep going and not let Aldo catch her, but the man pulled over.
Damn. The flashing lights of the police car stopped behind them. Her breath caught in her throat as depression squeezed her chest tight. Her escort took off his helmet.
“Get off.” His command made her do as he asked.
He was pissed, most likely because she hadn’t given him fair warning. Well, it would have been nice if she’d known she could just talk and he’d hear her.
Hold on. Did he plan on dumping her on the side of the road or maybe even handing her over to the police? Would they take her to a hotel or call Judge Bill Robbins instead? Trembling, she swung her leg up and over the seat. She pulled down her skirt and took off her helmet.
The cop strolled up to them.
“Need your license and registration.”
She expected Mr. Motorcycle Man to object, but he calmly passed over the information. His brows were no longer furrowed, and that once-mean look had softened almost into amusement. Damn him. There was nothing funny about this.
After the cop took down the information, he handed the cards back. “Mr. Knight, do you know why I stopped you?�
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She couldn’t let this Mr. Knight get in trouble because of her. “Officer, this is my fault. I really had to use the bathroom, and by the time my boyfriend understood what I wanted, we’d passed the exit. I’ll pay the fine.”
Though her cash was very limited, and she couldn’t use a traceable credit card, she couldn’t make Mr. Knight pay.
“What’s your name?” the officer asked.
“Bella Andrews.” It wasn’t her real name, so the words stuck in her throat.
“Ms. Andrews, Mr. Knight broke the law by making that illegal U-turn.”
“I know, but it was an emergency.” She stepped side to side like she really had to go.
He shook his head. “My wife is six months pregnant and has to stop at the most inopportune times. Next time, plan ahead.” He faced the driver. “I’ll let you off with a warning, but to avoid breaking the law, Mr. Knight, use the proper access roads.”
“Yes, sir, I will. And thank you, officer.”
Did those gentle words come out of the burly man’s mouth? Why is he so irritable with me?
Once the cop left, Mr. Knight faced her. “Don’t you know anything?”
She slapped a hand on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She had a master’s degree in marketing and worked at a Fortune 500 firm. She knew a lot.
“What was up with knocking on my helmet and waving your hands in front of my face? That could have gotten us killed. All you have to do is talk.”
“Like I knew that? I told you I’d never been on a motorcycle before.”
He glanced to the side like he was trying to decide what to do. “Now you know, but don’t talk unless it’s important. Got it?”
He was going to let her go with him? Hallelujah. “Still should have told me.”
“You were too busy thinking of how to escape. Had I taken the time to give full instructions, that man with the gun would have spotted you.”
Monroe, Melody Snow - Bella's Bad Bikers [Pleasure, Montana 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 1