“I’m so sorry, you don’t know me and here I am crying all over you,” she says, between hiccups.
“No worries, doll…I’m washable,” I tell her, attempting to lighten the mood some. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and off this floor,” I say, standing up and holding out my hand to help her. She gratefully grabs my hand, and I pull her up, then walk her over to the sink. I help her wash up and realize that she only has a towel wrapped around her body. “Where’s your clothes?” I ask her.
“They’re in the washing machine still, I needed to get all of my clothes clean since I was anticipating, hoping that I could get a job working for you.”
“After what happened to you here, you’d still be interested in working for me?” I’m doing my dead-level best not to notice that the towel barely covers her. She’s got curves for days that are making my hands ache and my dick swell. Definitely not the time!
Hannah
“Well, yeah,” I answer his question. I need a job, I can’t afford to be picky at this time.
“Well, first things first, let’s get your clothes into the dryer, I’m going to use my keys and lock you in here, for your safety,” he says, and I nod my head in agreement, I’d rather be locked in than have the possibility that someone else could enter the room with me. “Here,” he states, taking off his vest and giving me the shirt he was wearing. It’s going to be long on me but then again, most things are since I’m barely five feet, three inches. I can’t help but admire the perfection that is this man, I want him, even after what I just went through. Then again, a man that looks as good as he does would never be interested in me. I’m not the petite girl, nope, I rock the three ‘B’s’ pretty damn good, with boobs, belly and butt for days. I’ve always been secure in who I am, but I know that there are levels of acceptable numbers that go together. Ten’s stay with ten’s and two’s stay with two’s. I’m a seven at most, and this man standing before me is most definitely a ten, maybe higher.
“Thank you,” I reply, taking the shirt from him. I wait for him to close the door behind him and until I hear the click of the lock before I quickly dry off and slip the shirt on. Granted, the girls are free right now, but my only bra is now going in the dryer. Fuck, he’s going to see I’m not a Victoria’s Secret kinda woman, but instead, opt for whatever’s on sale. That won’t be forever, I remind myself. Just until I can get things turned around. At least everything is new-ish, with no elastic fraying or holes. I think. I’m also thankful that I don’t purchase undergarments at the thrift stores like I do my jeans and t-shirts. While I wait, I comb out my hair and smile. I think it’s my best feature actually. Long and thick with a wave that goes through it, and natural blonde highlights. I’ve never been one of those women who’ve had to spend a fortune at the hairdressers getting foiled or capped or whatever the fuck they do to get the highlights I was born with. I’m thankful for at least one thing that I don’t have to spend money on. I get a trim here and there, but that’s the most activity my hair has ever seen. I sigh thinking about all the things I do need to spend money on, and quickly. Because if that bozo has been watching me, I no longer feel comfortable sleeping in my car each night. Maybe if I had a huge-ass dog, but my kitten, Duckie, would probably curl up in his arms and purr. He’s lovable though, and his full, bushy tail always makes me grin, even on the shittiest of days when I have to make a package of noodles count as sustenance. Come to think of it, I believe this has fast-tracked my weight loss, because I can see ribs again. Silver lining?
I hear a knock on the door, which brings me out of my reverie. “Yes,” I call out.
“It’s me, doll. Could you open up?” I need to get his name. I feel bad calling him the hot guy in my head.
“Just a second,” I say, looking in the mirror one last time. Knowing this is as good as it’s going to get, I open the door, slightly, just enough to make sure it’s really him. Stupid. I think, as I realize, who else would it have been?
“Hey, one of my brothers’ old ladies is bringing you some clothes while yours dries. She’s about your size, but since I didn’t know that for a fact, she’s bringing some yoga pants and a few shirts for you to try out. I don’t know what yoga pants are, exactly,” he says, and the slight smile, that lifts the left corner of his mouth is cute, “but I figured they must be close to sweatpants. You know, one size fits all type of thing.” I burst out laughing, this guy is fucking funny as hell. Wait, yoga pants? Hell, my ass is gonna look as big as Texas in those! Oh well, it’s not like he was showing any true interest, so there’s that.
“I appreciate your sister-in-law being willing to share her clothing with me,” I tell him.
“She’s not technically my sister-in-law, she’s married to my brother, not my blood brother, but my club brother,” he informs me.
“Huh?” I’m confused, either it is his brother or it isn’t.
“Honey, you ended up in the right place at the right time,” he states. “This truck stop is owned and operated by the Rebel Guardians Motorcycle Club.” My eyes open wide because I’ve read books that have those clubs in them. They don’t generally operate legitimate businesses though so now I’m wondering if they use this as a front for something more nefarious…maybe gun running or something? Ooh, I know, they use this place to clean their money from their illegal activity. Now I feel like I could be starring in a Bonnie and Clyde sitcom.
He sees my face and starts laughing. Soon, he’s laughing so hard he’s doubled over and slapping his leg. What the fuck is so funny? Stomping my foot, which hurts from that dickhead kicking at it, I ask, “What’s so fucking funny?”
“Doll, if you could have seen your face when I mentioned my club, you’d understand,” he replies, still laughing and wiping at his face where genuine tears are rolling down his cheeks. “We aren’t the kind of club you’ve either heard or read about,” another man says, walking into the room. Holy fucking shit. Am I seeing double here, did I get hit in the head and didn’t realize it, because my God there are TWO of them?
“Am I awake? Did I hit my head, can you check for a lump?” I ask hottie number one.
“Why?”
“I think I’m seeing double, although my vision isn’t blurry,” I say as seriously as I can without having a panic attack. They both double over in laughter. Assholes. I happen to find absolutely nothing funny about a possible concussion.
“Babe, we’re identical twins,” hottie number two states, still chuckling.
“Someone call the looney bin, I think I’m hallucinating,” I say.
“She’s perfect for the two of you,” I hear, as a woman walks through the door. She’s absolutely stunning, and I immediately decide that I want to be her when I grow up.
“DJ,” hottie number two says, reaching his hands out to take the bag from her hands.
“I can’t keep calling y’all hottie number one and hottie number two, care to swap names?”
“You think we’re hot?” number one asks me. Well, duh? Did he forget to eat his Wheaties this morning?
“That’s it, I’m taking her to the hospital, she obviously hit her fucking head,” the woman they called DJ states.
“Now, gorgeous, perhaps to her they are…hot,” another man states as he makes his way into the room, which is getting smaller by the second. Damn he’s a big man, I bet someone could climb him like a tree. I can see he has a vest on that says ‘Hatchet’ and based on the fact he pulls the woman into his arms, I figure they’re a couple.
“Really? Can y’all let the poor girl get dressed so my man can get a statement from her?” another woman’s voice asks. Suddenly, I’m wondering if perhaps I’ve fallen into a parallel universe, or maybe the Twilight Zone, because there’s no fucking way all these gorgeous people could be real. I mean, really? Now I feel lower than a seven. Dammit, I was doing so good, too.
“Honey, you’re a ten at least,” hottie number one says.
“I said that out loud?” I squeal out in embarrassment.
�
��Oh yeah,” the DJ woman says, laughing.
“Not funny!” I snap at her.
“I like her,” DJ says, “can we keep her, honey?”
“What am I, a fucking dog?” I snap out at her.
“No, doll, you’re a beautiful woman,” hottie number two states. “Now, y’all head back downstairs and let our guest get dressed. I’m sure Chief wants a statement?” he asks, looking at the second woman.
“He does, he’s downstairs now um…talking to the person that Bandit detained,” she replies, rather primly.
“Detained, more like whooped his ass,” hottie number two says.
“Names?” I snap. “Can’t expect me to go around calling you all what’s running through my head, now can we?”
“Depends,” the man, who’s vest thing says Hatchet says. “What’s running through your head about me?”
“Hot guy, who someone could climb like a tree,” I tell him.
“Yeah, kinda like that, let’s go with it,” he says, his woman smacking him.
“Oh, that’s my favorite position!” DJ squeals, causing me to laugh. I kinda like these people even though I still feel a bit strange about the whole situation. They’ve brought me some clothes while mine dry and there’s a police officer already there to take my statement. Now all I need is a place to stay…some money to add to my empty pockets, and to avoid the hottie twins like the plague.
“We’ll wait downstairs for you while you get changed,” the woman, whose name I don’t know, says as they all walk out.
Hottie number two says to me, “I’ll wait in the hallway and escort you down when you’re done.”
Bandit
I’m standing outside the door waiting for the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen to come out and wondering what has brought her here, to our town. Guess that’s something we need to find out because right now, I want her to stay. Forever. Fuck. I suspect we’re not going to hear the end of this because we gave each of our brothers absolute hell when they found their woman. Hell, I don’t even know her name yet, but it doesn’t matter. Something about her calls to a part of me I thought would be empty forever and I’ll kill Smokey if he’s not on board. But then again, he is the one who texted me saying that he believes he’s found our one, so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt on this one. I’m about to knock on the door to see if she’s okay when she opens it in front of me and my breath catches. She’s shorter than DJ but curvier and the yoga pants or whatever the fuck they are cling to her like a second skin, showing off each curve to perfection. The shirt is hanging off her shoulders and I can imagine leaning in and kissing her neck. Shaking my head to ward off where my thoughts are heading, I ask, “You ready to do this? We’re gonna meet them on the diner side.”
“Yeah, I’m ready. Then I need to find someplace else to stay since I’m not safe here.”
“Don’t worry about that just yet, m’kay?”
“You say don’t worry, but that’s all I’m going to do, I can tell you that now. That’s all I’ve ever been able to do,” she mumbles out. “And I need to check on Duckie, too.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“That is a story for another day,” she says to me.
We reach the group that has taken up residence at most of the tables when it hits me what she says. “Who’s Duckie?”
“My kitten,” she says as she walks over to Chief. Thankfully, he was on duty so he’s in uniform, otherwise, she wouldn’t have had a clue who to speak to about everything.
Wait, she has a kitten with her? Fuck. How hard of a life has she had that she’s staying in her vehicle with a pet? And will Jester get along with it? Jester is my bull mastiff, and he’s never been around a cat before, I hope he doesn’t think it’s a chew toy. I’d really like to keep her around, and I have a feeling that if my dog accidentally maimed her kitten, that isn’t a likely scenario.
“I’m Turk Dennison, Chief of Police,” Chief tells her as he holds out his hand. “But everyone just calls me Chief,” he tells her.
“Hannah Nelson,” she replies, giving him a firm handshake. I’m impressed by her bravado because she’s been through a bit of a trauma and has the bruising to show for it, but she’s standing around all of us like it’s nothing. I knew that when we found ‘our one’ she’d be a brave person, she’d have to be to put up with us, the ‘hottie twins’, I laugh to myself.
“Tell me what happened, Hannah,” Chief commands as he pulls out a notepad.
The next twenty-minutes we all sit and listen as Hannah gives a play-by-play of what happened. My anger grows and I wish I had had a few more extra minutes alone with that asshole. I don’t feel he got enough of my wrath, something I haven’t unleashed in a very long period of time.
“Now what?” Hannah asks.
“Now, I think we should introduce you to the clan,” Smokey tells her.
“Hottie number one is Smokey,” DJ tells her.
“And hottie number two is Bandit,” Trinity says. Smokey and I each bow to her as we are introduced…formally. She chuckles at our exuberant show.
“I’m DJ,” DJ states, pointing to herself. “My old man is the one you said could be climbed like a tree, his road name is Hatchet,” she tells her.
“And I’m Trinity,” Trinity interjects with a small wave. “And I’m with Chief, who you’ve already met,” she says, leaning into Chief’s embrace.
“Sorry to meet you under these circumstances,” Chief tells her, shaking her hand again.
“Okay, now that introductions are out of the way, how about that job?” Hannah asks Smokey.
Smokey
Is it wrong that I want to wrap her in cotton, and tell her she never has to work a day in her life, again? “We need a waitress in the diner and a clerk behind the desk at the convenience store, which one are you wanting?”
“Well…I’m not sure, which one pays better?” she asks me.
“The diner pays about four-dollars an hour, but you get to keep your tips. The clerk position pays about nine-dollars per hour,” I tell her, knowing that whichever one she chooses, I will make sure I’m working the same shift as she is. I can’t stand the thought of her being here working and me not being around to protect her at all costs.
“Could I do both?” she asks me, causing my eyes to widen with surprise at her question.
“Both? Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” I ask in a cautious tone. I’m really worried, no one could pull both of those shifts, it’s too much for one person.
“I don’t think so,” she says, and I can see she’s thinking about it.
“Don’t think you’ve hit your head?” Bandit asks, just as confused as I am.
“I didn’t hit my head as far as I know, but I really could use the money, and I’ve never been scared of a challenge before,” she says.
“Why do you need to make money so badly?” Hatch asks her.
“Because, I obviously can’t be living in the back out of my car any longer and I barely have three hundred dollars to my name.” Damn, I knew she was on hard times, but I didn’t realize they were actually that bad.
“Is there anything you need right now, besides a place to sleep?” Trinity asks her.
“A place to sleep and a job are my top priorities right now, anything else can wait. Well, and I need to get Duckie Wuckie his food,” Hannah replies.
“Someone call Axe and see if he has a spare place in the Townhomes?” Hatchet asks.
DJ pipes up, “I rented the last unit yesterday morning.”
“Well shit,” Chief says.
But, I am having a ding…ding…ding moment. Because we technically have a spare bedroom at our place. I look over at Bandit who nods his head at me, letting me know we’re on the same page.
“There is a place you can stay, no strings attached or anything,” I state. I know I likely sound hesitant but after what she went through a bit ago, there’s no way I want her to think the offer comes with st
rings attached. Even though, if we have our way, eventually she’ll be tied to us in every way possible—patched as our woman, married to one of us and committed to the other, and eventually carrying our children.
“Stay where? With you?” she asks.
“Well, with us,” I reply, pointing between Bandit and myself. The women start cracking up and I notice the guys with smiles on their faces. “What’s so funny?” I ask, scowling at each and every one of them. Apparently, the shitstorm they’re going to bring to us is starting now.
I vaguely hear DJ murmur, “Karma, boys. Karma,” before I see Hatch put his hand over her mouth.
“And there’s no expectation, correct? I’m free to come and go as I please? What about my kitten? Where I go, he goes,” she responds.
“How is your kitten around dogs?” I ask her. Because Jester is going nowhere, we’ve had him since he was six weeks old.
“No clue, to be honest. Why?” she asks.
“We’ve got a bull mastiff named Jester that we’ve had since he was weaned. He’s a big boy but a gentle giant. Just don’t want him to think that your fluff ball is his next snack.”
“Guess we won’t know until we introduce them,” she says.
“We need to take her shopping,” DJ announces, out of the clear blue sky.
“What? Why?” Hannah asks. “I’ve got what I need.”
“Honey, I swapped the clothes out. You need clothes. And I’m sure, if you’ve been living out of your vehicle, you brought the bare minimum, right? What about your kitty? Doesn’t he need things?”
I watch Hannah’s head drop as she takes in everything DJ has said and make a decision, looking at Bandit once I’ve done so. He nods and I beckon Trinity over. She’s a helluva lot more level-headed than DJ and even Cara at times, so I’ll entrust her with this task. Once she’s closer, I lean in and ask, “If we give you the money, will you get her sizes and then go pick up some stuff for her? And get what her kitten needs too.”
Trinity grins at me and I can see the mischief swirling. Fuck, we’re gonna catch it from the women as well. “Definitely. I’ll hook you up. I’m sure DJ and Cara and maybe even Paisley will wanna come with me.”
Smokey & Bandit: Rebel Guardians MC Page 2