by Snow, Nicole
The asshole heard me loud and clear. He didn't ask again, just lunged for me, pulling me into his arms. I spun, careful not to fall face first into the sizzling grill, clawing at his neck.
“Stupid ass trashy slut! Why don't you forget about the food? Me and my buddies would rather have a piece of something else.”
I froze, beating feebly against his back. His hands moved swiftly, defiantly, rummaging up my back, reaching for my bra.
This. Can't. Be. Happening.
Oh, but it was.
The bad day I'd tried to turn around was about to get a whole lot worse. I didn't have any hope of fighting off this drunken animal.
Time to scream. I opened my mouth and screamed bloody murder, until it seemed like my lungs would rip in two.
“Ah, fuck! You'll bust my fucking eardrums. Shut up!” He clumsily stuffed a hand over my mouth.
My vision blurred, and time seemed to slow down. He pushed me against the counter, holding me down, running his filthy tongue along his lips while the meat sizzled behind him.
I was too stunned, too terrified, to hear the freight train barreling toward us. The door burst open, and a split second later, they were on us.
Two big men clad in leather slammed into the frat boy so hard I nearly went flying to the ground with him. I caught the edge of the counter, screaming, and watched as two of the meanest looking twins I'd ever seen laid into the drunk.
I didn't need to see their faces a second time to know my would-be monster had just gotten himself into a universe of hurt.
The Taylor boys were bad news. The worst, actually, ever since they'd both joined the Deadly Pistols MC, a biker gang just over the border in Tennessee.
Rubbing my eyes in disbelief, I took a hard, long look at the killer angels in front of me.
I saw double. They were identical, except for the wild ink going up their muscular arms.
Twice the savage energy, twice the grief, twice the primal beauty.
Ruggedly smooth, chiseled as the Blue Ridge Mountains. Both boys were bigger than life. Just walking, talking, ass-kicking contradictions who swept in like a hurricane and left legends in their wake.
Seddon didn't have superheroes, and too many petty villains to count. But we did have the Taylor brothers, Jackson and Freddy. For this little town, they were enough, a two man freight train who left shattered bottles, blood, and desperate women wherever they went.
They'd come into the bar before, and barely said a word. Sometimes with their grandpa, Don. I'd served them once or twice, losing my usual pleasantries in sheepish whispers. They usually found a quiet corner and talked among themselves, asking for beers and shots of whiskey, sometimes a burger or two on the side.
It wasn't my first time seeing them. But never like this.
Seeing Jackson give me the evil eye, sizing me up, before his face smoothed back into stoic calm...that was new. So was destroying a man in front me. The cold efficiency in every blow they pounded into the frat boy made me gasp.
It all happened so fast. They'd saved me, but I had to remember, these weren't good men.
Supposedly, they'd done all kinds of terrible things. I believed the legends, sure, but I also knew they tipped well.
Like, really well.
My best day ever working here was the last time I'd waited on their table. I'd feared the worst, tip-toeing around with their orders, triple checking to make sure everything that came out on my tray was picture perfect.
There hadn't been a single complaint. Instead, I'd found a tip for the same amount as their tab waiting for me after they left, leaving my jaw dragging on the floor.
Now, they finished laying into the devil rolling on the ground, begging for his life before each brother delivered a couple more kicks to his ribs. Frat boy couldn't breathe, much less whine anymore.
I backed away slowly into the corner, wondering if they were about to kill this kid in my kitchen.
Jackson and Freddy weren't much older than the college boy, come to think of it, but they carried themselves like men in every way. They seemed older, darker, somehow wiser.
If it wasn't for their patches, I wouldn't have been able to tell them apart. They were both as big and beautiful as they were dangerous, two hazel-eyed, dark haired brutes packed with muscle.
Jesus, how was I supposed to talk to them if I couldn't remember them by name? Think, Summer, think.
Once, Uncle Robby spelled it out. He told me Freddy had the dagger on his leather cut, underneath his name patch. Jackson wore the smoking pistol, and he'd recently added two more, blood red patches underneath his name. Both skulls.
They'd taken road names since joining the Pistols. Anybody who didn't address them properly was begging for trouble.
JOKER, Jackson's patch said. Freddy's said PIECE.
Two ridiculous, weird biker names that should've left an ordinary person rolling their eyes. But there was no laughing, no doubt, no derision while they brutally knocked some sense into the jackass on the floor.
“That's enough, brother. We don't wanna lay him out. Can't have this little cocksucker bleeding all over the fuckin' kitchen back here,” Piece growled, pulling back his twin brother.
Joker wanted to keep going. He stepped away reluctantly, his clenched teeth showing in a rough smile. He looked at me, stepping out of his brother's hold, extending a hand.
“You all right? We both came running, soon as we heard the scream.”
My lips trembled. I'm fine, I wanted to say. Just brush it off like it was no big deal, but my eighteen year old brain cracked.
“No!” I squeaked, tumbling forward into his grip.
He held me. That shocked me to hell and back.
Jackson “Joker” Taylor was the last man in the world who should've swept a crying, down-on-her-luck teenager into his arms. But he did, swallowing me up in a bear hug as big as the world, holding me as all the crap I'd suffered for the last year or two came pouring out.
“Piece, drag the kid to the door and throw him the fuck out. His posse'll follow as soon as they see him hit the pavement. We've busted him up enough. They'll shit their pants when they see. Make sure they pay Tina, too.”
“No, no, it isn't right. I didn't even get a chance to finish their order,” I whined, too sad to see how little sense that made just then.
“Babe, don't you fuckin' worry about it. We got it taken care of. Everything. We'll make sure none of these shitheads ever show their rat faces anywhere around here again.”
Frat boy groaned as Piece scooped him up. I listened to Joker's twin start humming a country tune as he pulled him out through the kitchen, no different than dragging out the trash.
Tina came rushing in a second later. Her eyes bugged out when she saw me wrapped up in Joker's arms.
“Holy Lord and Moses, Summer! What's going on back here? Should I get the police?”
“Fuck no,” Joker growled, turning his head to face her, without pushing me from his arms. “It's all under control, Miss Tina. Run along. I'll help the girl find her way home.”
“You, Jackson? But her shift's not over 'til...”
“It's okay, Tina.” Sniffing to clear my sinuses, I looked up, hating myself for being such a mess. “I'm going to stand by for a few more evening orders and then I'll go. Don't know when Uncle Robby will be back. He burned his hand real bad. I'll find a way home.”
“Jackson, she doesn't get on that motorcycle unless you have a helmet for her,” Tina said sharply, folding her arms.
“Dammit, Tina, it's Joker now. Joker. You use that Jackson shit again, we're gonna have a problem. Piece and me just did the bar a favor, unloading those motherfuckers. Make sure they're paid up when you check the counter.”
Sighing, Tina threw up her hands. “Okay, whatever. I don't have a clue what this is about. You just...learn to keep your distance. Summer's a good girl. Her mama, Christine, don't need more problems, worrying about her daughter coming home with a guy like you. She's too sick for that crap.”
Joker gave her an icy stare on her way out. His muscles hardened around me, and for the first time, I noticed how huge he really was.
He could've hoisted me up without breaking a sweat. Probably could've broken rocks all day long, just like the old timers talked about, back when the mines boomed.
He must've been two hundred pounds of perfect muscle. Maybe more.
Just a tall, dark, and dangerously handsome twenty-something year old man. Walking, talking, killing steel stuffed into human skin and slathered with scary tattoos.
I looked up, slowly easing myself out of his arms. God, why was it so hard to leave?
“Thanks for the help,” I said softly, having a hard time keeping my eyes on his.
Those dark, hazel gems in his face had a grip even stronger than his hands. Every time I met them, I fell in.
I wanted to keep staring, sinking, defying every warning I'd ever heard about these men.
“Don't bother,” he said, running a hand through his short, but thick hair. “This'll all be our territory someday, babe. We'd be fools not to lay down the law. We already own the fuck outta Tennessee. Gonna have Georgia, too, and the least my brother and I can do is start keeping order in our own damned town.”
“You really grew up here?” I asked, walking over to the grill to push the badly burned burgers off it. “I mean, I already know you did. It's just hard to believe. This town makes too many boring men.”
He chuckled, a rich, throaty sound that tempted me to get up close and personal. “Born and raised. Still come back every week or two to see our grandpa. Owe that man my left nut, and maybe the right one, too.”
Crude. I smiled anyway, eyeing him over my shoulder while he realized how rough he was talking, muttering an apology.
“Shit, let's pretend you didn't hear that. How long 'til the end of your shift?” he asked.
“Maybe another hour. I just need to cover for Tina a little longer in case anybody wants food. Sounds like the crowd is clearing out after the rumble back here...”
“Yeah, my brother's out there, playing peacemaker. Don't worry. We'll make sure those fuckers gave your boss every cent she was owed. We'll leave some extra for the mess from our own pockets on top of it.” His lips twitched, and he looked down at the blood drying near his boot.
“You don't owe us anything else,” I said nervously. “You and Freddy have already been a big help. Really.”
“Babe, his name's Piece. Mine's Joker. Get it straight.” He looked at me sharply, and I nodded. Then he cocked his head. “Say, what the fuck was yours again?”
“Summer,” I said, feeling my cheeks turn beet red. “Summer Olivers.”
“Ah, yeah, grandpa used to see your ma to hash out his VA shit at the bank. Christine, right?”
I nodded. Talking about mama reminded me I really needed to check in with her soon, just in case she needed anything on my way home.
She was stocked up on prescriptions. The days when she'd ask me for snacks or water were becoming less and less, the nausea catching up with her a little more by the day.
I tried not to think about it.
“You don't have to hang around if you have somewhere else to be,” I said. “Really, Joker. I can clean up and find my way home.”
“Fuck that. You're going for a ride, whether you want to or not. Trust me, babe, it'll do you some good to get the wind in your hair for a few minutes after the shit that went down back here.”
“Okay, well...fine.” I looked at him and smiled, instantly dropping my eyes when he returned the glance. “I'll wrap up as soon as I can.”
“Whatever. You let me know when you're ready to go. I've got a beer to finish out in the bar. Say the word and I'll help you mop this shit up before we go.” His boot tapped the bloody smear where they'd wiped frat boy's face on the floor, after they'd finished kicking the hell out of him.
I watched Joker turn smartly and disappear through the swinging doors.
Then I doubled over, propping myself up on the counter next to the grill. Waves of confusion washed over me.
Christ. What the hell was wrong with me?
A hundred knots twisted my stomach. It wasn't just all the recent shock. The tension tugged a little lower, tingling, kicking up a heatwave that made me sweat and flush.
It wasn't just because the man standing in front of me was a crazy, unpredictable thug.
Honestly, my eyes couldn't see it every time I looked at him.
They saw the rugged, muscular beast who'd narrowly saved me from a nightmare.
They only saw power, forced me to imagine how easily the same big, strong arms that sheltered me against his chest could throw me around, undress me, roam every inch of me...
This man punched, kicked, and swore without any apologies. Would he kiss the same way?
Closing my eyes, I stumbled through the rest of my shift, trying to ignore crazy emotions slashing through me like comets.
I called mama to check in with her just before I wrapped up. She asked me if everything was fine, and I lied through my teeth.
She couldn't know about what went down today. If she heard about the frat boy, it would kill her. So would finding out that I was about to ride home with one of the two biggest, meanest bastards in Seddon.
Whatever happened next was private. Between me, Jackson Taylor, and God.
Oh, crap.
* * *
“You've never ridden before? Bullshit. Looks like you were made for it,” Joker said, cupping my chin and pulling on the straps, making sure my helmet was secured tight. I watched him climb onto the bike in front of me.
My pulse quickened when I realized how little space there was between us on his motorcycle.
“Ain't no mystery when it comes to riding. Put your little hands around me and hold the fuck on, woman. That's all there is to it. I'll have you home in five or ten.”
He didn't ask me twice. My hands softly curled around his stomach.
No surprise, his abs were as rock hard as the rest of him. Joker put his hands over mine, adding pressure to my fingers, urging me to hold him tighter.
I did, clenching my jaw the entire time. Then, in another heartbeat, his engine growled to life and we were off.
Lurching from the sudden speed, I let out a little yelp, hugging him for dear life. His abs rippled underneath my fingers, perfect and happy, his chuckle drowned out by the engine's rumble.
We rode through the hills leading into town. Every bump where I didn't fall off the bike gave me a little more confidence. Slowly, I eased up straight, edging my grip on his muscles until I finally had my bearings.
The bike must've scared the hell out of me for at least a solid minute. But by the time I realized I wasn't clinging to him like a scared cat, I also had the smile pulling at my lips, one he saw in his mirrors.
“Shit, little girl, you sure you've never ridden before? You're doing fuckin' fantastic. Looks like you belong back there.”
My face lit up. I leaned into him a little more, relishing the cool southern breeze, catching a whiff of something rolling off him that warmed my blood.
He smelled...amazing.
Oil and pine mingled with leather, a tinge of tobacco, and a bold masculine musk that sent shockwaves rippling through me.
It'd been too long since I'd had a crush. I'd been a late bloomer, and carried a few extra pounds from too many late night dinners in Uncle Robby's bar.
New excitement tightened my core like a lasso, every time I inhaled the oxygen alive with Jackson, Joker, this raging ghost who'd torn through my life and saved me from one more tragedy.
“I like this,” I whispered softly. “It's smoother than I expected out here, I mean. Can't imagine what it must be like on the highways.”
“Babe, it's smooth as a fuckin' hawk's tail. Ain't nothing like riding. Everything else in this world can get fucked. When you're out here on the road, you find peace. Some folks find themselves. Same thing sailors and pilots are after when they're gliding
along, free as the day they were born.”
I blinked, surprised that his words were so poetic, between all the crude curses. How many layers were there to Joker and his twin?
Everybody talked about them like they were the last devils you'd ever want to run into at night on an abandoned road or in a broken down back alley. Maybe that was true.
But if these boys were demons, then they were the slickest, fittest bastards who'd ever crawled out of hell.
They were the fairest, the realist, the most tragic. Because in another time and place, they might've been heroes, not part of an outlaw biker gang with skulls and guns all over their bodies.
Too bad this was Seddon, and this town didn't forgive. Joker probably had more mercy in his deadly makeup than this God-forsaken place.
That scared me. Turned my blood to bitter ice, or it would've, if only holding onto him didn't make me thaw.
Joker felt warm. Strong. Like the fire in his blood burbled to the surface, brightening the world around it, the only flame shielding me from the greater darkness.
Several minutes on his bike, and I never wanted it to end.
Of course, it did, and soon we were coming down my street, rounding our way down the long unpaved road to mama's house.
“No lights on. Your ma must go to bed early, yeah?” he asked, killing his engine before we crept too close to her car, and jerking off his helmet. He turned around.
Those bright, hazel eyes glowed like a mountain lion's in the moonlight. I lowered my eyes, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second.
“Yeah. She hasn't been doing too well lately. The doctors don't know what it is.”
Or if they know, she isn't telling me, I thought bleakly. Mama hated when I suffered or worried about her, so she hid the hurt. Just kept it to herself, except for the nights when the breakdown in her body became so overwhelming she cried in her sleep.
Joker stood up, extended a hand, and locked his fingers perfectly in mine. The helmet slid off my head. He helped me up, tucking a loose lock of hair back behind my ear.
“It's been one fuck of a night. Go crash, Summer. Sleep it off 'til you can't remember that prick I knocked to hell back there. He ain't worth your time. Bastard'll be too fuckin' busy getting his face rebuilt to worry about giving you any more trouble. Promise. Tomorrow's gonna be better than this shit.”