Protected by the Biker

by Savannah Rylan

  I must have gotten myself pretty lost in my own thoughts because I hadn't noticed when a guy had walked up to the woman I'd been drooling over minutes ago. It was only when I heard his loud voice some distance away from me that I looked over and saw him.

  He seemed like a native in these surroundings, and perhaps the perfect match for this glamorous woman. He was flirting with her, and the more I looked, the more I couldn't decide if she was flirting back. Either way, I had spent a good few minutes staring at them talking, and it was then that I realized that I was actually jealous.

  I hadn't even spoken to her. I had barely even looked at her, and yet somehow, as she spoke to this other guy, I could feel rage and jealousy pumping through my veins.

  Chapter 6

  Ensley

  I noticed him from the moment he walked into the bar because he looked nothing like someone I had met in real life before. Sure, living in LA, I had seen bikers around the city but only from afar. Never had I seen one up close like this before, and I was gawking at him like he was an exotic animal in my living room.

  There was no doubt about the fact that he led a lifestyle that was very different from my own; a biker lifestyle. If the helmet he was carrying, tucked under his arm, wasn't a dead giveaway-the leather cut he had on and the tattoos crawling up his arms were.

  I tightened my legs together as he walked towards me. I was sitting with my legs crossed on the stool; my body turned slightly sideways so that I had a clear view of the door. I could feel a sudden clenching of muscles in the pit of my stomach as he walked near me.

  I could see the sour expression on his face as he walked past groups of giggling girls and light-weight drunk guys. He looked like someone who would win any beer chugging contest hands down.

  It wasn't just the bad-boy impression he created; it was everything about his body. The way the muscles on his wide shoulders moved with every step he took. The chiseled structure of his face. How his head was shaved, and a patch of hair on top grew long. There was nothing 'normal' about him, and maybe that was exactly why I was so drawn to him.

  I could feel my cheeks flushing as he walked closer, but he had seen right through me. I was wrong. He wasn't walking towards me, he was walking towards the bar.

  I felt a wave of embarrassment when he sat down on a stool a few feet away from me. He hadn't even seen me. He didn't even know I existed! I couldn't stop staring at him though. I noticed the patch of a Grim Reaper on the back of his cut. The way his biceps moved as he took the glass of whiskey from the bartender.

  He was definitely not the type of man I usually went for, but that could have something to do with the fact that I had never met anyone like him before. I was still staring at him, still trying to figure out just how strong he was. If the palm of his hand would fit right around my waist, what it would feel like to have him on top of me. I couldn't believe I was this bold. Fantasizing about a stranger who wasn't even looking at me! I felt another wave of heat flush over my body and in that exact moment, he looked to his side and caught me staring.

  It was like my breath had caught in my throat. I jerked my head away from him, embarrassed and excited at the same time that he had noticed me staring. I had watched as he'd chugged down his whiskey in one go and then asked for another. He wasn't the world's most polite man, but it didn't matter to me. All I could think about was how strong and devastatingly hot he was.

  While I kept my face firmly turned from him, I could sense him looking at me now. It was his turn.

  I didn't dare to look at him. Although, I was racked with curiosity about whether he liked what he saw. Just like he wasn't my usual type, I was pretty sure that I wasn't his usual type either. I was probably too blond, too well covered in clothes, and drinking a vodka martini. I was stereotyping him by imagining him with a girl in fishnet stockings with her breasts spilling out of a leather bikini top. His eyes were still on me. I could feel his gaze searing into my skin; even from this distance.

  And then, just as suddenly as he had turned to me, he had turned away.

  I realized then that I had been holding my breath all this while. I released with a deep sigh and bit down hard on my bottom lip. I wanted him to look at me again, but he didn't seem like he was going to. I stole some looks in his direction and saw that he was immersed in thought. He was already drinking his second whiskey and just like I had predicted-I was the last woman he'd be interested in, in this bar.

  "You look like a martini sort of girl," I heard a voice beside me, startling me out of my thoughts. I blinked rapidly to adjust my gaze and turned to find a different guy standing beside me.

  There was nothing wrong with him, except that he wasn't the man in the leather cut.

  "Excuse me?" I said, barely finding my voice to say anything to him.

  "I said that you look like a martini sort of girl," the guy repeated himself and leaned closer to me, to make himself heard over the loud house music.

  "I know what you said, I just don't understand what it means," I said to him with a smile. He had kind of disappointed me by not being the biker guy, but that was no reason for me to be rude to him.

  He stepped back and looked me up and down, clutching his bottle of craft beer in one hand.

  "You know, career woman, out on her own on a Saturday night," he said, and tipping his head to one side, he took a sip of his beer. As annoying as what he said was, I was relieved that he hadn't recognized me. I'd had enough of signing autographs and taking selfies with strangers for one night.

  I smiled at him and turned away, hoping that he would get the hint that I didn't want to have a conversation.

  "Am I right?" he continued, and stifling a sigh, I looked at him again. He was typical of this kind of neighborhood. Beanie on his head, jeans tighter than mine, flannel shirt. I had to bite my tongue before I asked him where his skateboard was.

  "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say to that. Yes, I have a career as most women do, and yes I'm out alone on a Saturday night; which is pretty obvious given that I'm sitting here alone and it is a Saturday night," I said, keeping the smile intact on my face. I knew that he was just trying to make flirtatious conversation, but I wasn't in the mood.

  He raised an eyebrow at me and stepped closer, which I felt was a little too close for someone who was trying to chat me up. I said nothing though and took small sips of my martini.

  "You look familiar, have I seen you somewhere?" he asked, and I shrugged my shoulders.

  "Doesn't everyone in LA look familiar?" I asked, and he threw his head back and laughed like I had said the funniest thing in history.

  "I'm Murray by the way," he added and stuck his hand out at me. I had to put my glass down on the counter so that I could shake his hand.

  "Ensley," I said, and when he held my hand, it lingered longer than necessary, till I had to gently pry mine away. On any other night, I might have welcomed and even enjoyed Murray's company, but not tonight. Tonight, I wanted to be left alone and with my own thoughts about my sudden change in lifestyle, and drooling over a handsome stranger who didn't notice me.

  "That is a strange name," he said, leaning close to me again. He was peering at me like he was waiting for an explanation of my name. The guy who I was sure drank Kombucha for all three meals. I knew exactly what these trendy LA types were like, and he was calling me strange!

  I shrugged my shoulders dejectedly at him again.

  "What can I say? I have a weird name I guess," I said, and he threw his head back and laughed again. I had no idea I was even being funny.

  "Okay, how about I buy you a drink and we can discuss the meaning of your name a little further?" Murray said, and without waiting for a response from me, he indicated to the waiter to bring me another.

  This wasn't funny anymore. I felt like this guy was coming on too strong and now I regretted even encouraging him a little.

  "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to leave soon. I don't think I have time for another drink," I said, in as apologetic a fake
voice as I could manage.

  Murray looked at me again, his lips pouted exaggeratedly.

  "Don't be like that, beautiful, you're going to break my heart," he said, and a weak laugh escaped my lips.

  I tried to slide off the stool, but he was standing right in front of me, blocking my path.

  Chapter 7

  Thorn

  The guy had a loud laugh, and there was something that the woman was saying to him which made him throw his head back and laugh even harder. I wasn't sure why I was feeling this jealous. I hadn't even noticed her till I'd caught her looking at me, and after that, my attention had turned to my own thoughts. What was I jealous of? I didn't even know her. She wasn't my type, and I wasn't hers.

  But the more the two of them talked, the harder I stared at them.

  I still couldn't decide if she was enjoying his advances. This guy, with his beanie, unlike me, seemed more her type than I would be in a million years. He was fashionable and hip, drinking what looked like craft beer in a bottle and probably making intelligent political jokes. He seemed like the sort of guy whose company someone like her would enjoy. However, I couldn't get this nagging feeling out of my gut that she wasn't thrilled by his advances.

  Either way, it was none of my business. Whether she was happy with his presence or not, she was still talking to him. Even if she didn't want to, she was holding her own which was something I liked. She was definitely not the kind of woman who needed a man to come to her immediate rescue, and I wasn't going to be that guy.

  I finished my second drink and asked for another, and from the corner of my eye; I could see that they were still talking. It wasn't my place to interrupt or feel jealous. My mind wandered to other things soon enough anyway.

  Maybe we could spruce up Dirty Harry's. Who was I kidding? It was either the alcohol or the fact that I was stupidly drinking in a bar like this, that gave me ideas about making something of Dirty Harry's. There was no way that any of the other guys would agree to turn the bar into anything other than what it already was-a dive biker's bar, where people like me hung out. Where someone like the woman sitting there, would never walk into.

  There she was again! Occupying my thoughts when I least wanted her to. I clenched my jaw, unhappy with the fact that she was luring my attention towards her again. I looked over in her direction, and now I could see the guy leaning towards her, saying something close to her face. She was leaning away from him, like his breath was bad, and I nearly laughed.

  I looked away again. It was none of my business.

  No, sprucing up Dirty Harry's and trying to float it as our main income earner was not going to work. The bar wouldn't generate enough revenue to keep all the guys happy. Besides, my brothers needed the kind of work that would keep them on their toes and their blood pumping at all times. If I didn't find work like that for them, who knows what else they would get up to, to keep themselves busy. No, I needed an idea that would keep them occupied. A legitimate business plan along the lines of the kind of work that the club was already accustomed to handling.

  I sensed a movement in the direction of the woman, and I looked over at her again. She was sliding off the stool, and I knew immediately then, that she wanted to get away from the guy. She wasn't being rude. She was smiling and blushing, and I could sense that she was politely trying to make excuses. It was obvious to me now that she didn't want him sticking around.

  I clenched my jaw as I watched them. She smiled and said something to him, which made him step closer to her. She was off her stool now, but he was blocking her path. He had even bought her a drink, which the bartender was now placing on the counter in front of them.

  The woman tried to swerve out of his way and my brows crossed. Up until now, I was happy to see her being able to handle herself, but now the guy was taking it to another level. Even though I didn't want to see her go, I hoped for her sake that this idiot didn't cause a scene. If that meant that she would leave the bar and I would never see her again, I was okay with that. I just hoped that this guy didn't end up upsetting her.

  But he did.

  Instead of stepping out of her way and letting her go, which is what any man should have done in this situation; he made a grab for her wrist. He did this harshly, violently enough for the woman to gasp, which I heard. I gripped the glass of whiskey tighter in my hand, trying to control my building rage. The woman yanked her wrist away from him, and now I could see her brows crossed. She was beginning to lose her cool. She was beginning to panic. She had been calm and polite for too long, and she had every right to be mad at him now.

  The guy still didn't move out of her way, and I heard the traces of her raised voice.

  I'd had enough. I'd seen all that I needed to see.

  I slammed my glass down hard on the bar counter and stood up from my stool. This wasn't about rescuing a woman I wanted in my bed, this was about teaching an asshole a lesson on how a woman should be treated. Unless he played his cards right, he had a big lesson coming his fucking way.

  Chapter 8

  Ensley

  The moment he grabbed my wrist, I was thrust back into my old life. Fear gripped my heart, and instead of Murray blocking my way it was Ryan. And my whole body was threatening to shut down.

  "C'mon, Ensley, don't be like that," he had a silly grin on his face as he blocked my path again, when I tried to duck past him.

  Ice was coursing through my veins, as my heart began to race with fear. I tugged my arm slightly making his grip tighten and my adrenaline finally kicked in. I tried to push past him again, and this time, he reached for my waist. The strength with which he grabbed on to me, made my blood curdle and my heart stop.

  This was the way Ryan treated me. If he didn't get his way with me, he forced his will on me. He was physically much stronger than I was, and he made sure that I was always aware of that.

  This time, when Murray grabbed me by my waist; I couldn't move. It was like I had frozen to the spot. Every bad memory I had of Ryan came crashing down on me, and I felt like I had no way of escaping it.

  "Tell me you'll stay for one more drink with me," Murray hissed, close to my face. Close enough for me to smell his beer-laden breath. I looked up into his eyes and noticed that they were bloodshot. I hadn't noticed until that moment, but it seemed Murray was a lot drunker than he had let on earlier. My heart was leaping out of my chest. I had wave after wave of flashbacks of the fear that Ryan had instilled in me. I thought I had gotten over those fears, that I had managed to pick up the broken pieces of me and move on, but clearly, that wasn't the case. At the slightest trigger, I was right back where he had left a me-a naive twenty-year-old girl who had no strength to defend herself against a brute of a man.

  I had no idea how long it had been that Murray was standing there, holding me by my waist. It was only when I heard the voice behind me that I was snapped out of my crippling thoughts.

  "Is there a problem here?" the voice was firm and a growl. It was coming from behind me, and I didn't have to look around to know who it was.

  It was like I had always known his voice. I recognized it in an instant.

  "Yes," I murmured, without turning to him and I could feel Murray's grip on my waist weakening. The expression on his face had changed as well. He was beginning to lose color.

  The man in the leather cut, who I thought hadn't even noticed me before, now stepped up to my side.

  "I'd suggest you let her go," he said, and every word that came out of his mouth was a threatening command. Murray's hand dropped from my waist immediately, and he was stepping away. He raised his hands up in the air, palms forward.

  "Hey, I was just making conversation," he said, but I could sense that he was nervous.

  "Get the fuck out of this place before I bash your head in," the man growled, and I felt my mouth go dry. I was still staring at Murray, I couldn't believe that he had this effect on me. I was left feeling vulnerable and cold now. Murray was backing away, almost dissolving in the crowd of the bus
y bar.

  "And the next time you touch a woman without permission, remember that I'll find you and I'll kill you," the man continued in a hiss. Murray nodded his head like he believed every word and then whipping around from us, he seemed to disappear into thin air.

  I finally felt like I could breathe again.

  The man in the leather cut turned to me now, my eyes adjusted to his face. This was the first time I was noticing how green his eyes were, they were focused on me. There was a hint of concern in those eyes, and I tried to gather myself quickly.

  "Ttthank you, for that," I stammered with my words and I watched as he stuffed his large masculine hands into the pockets of his old ripped jeans.

  "Anytime," he replied, and I could feel a smile forming on my face, and all the panic in my body disappear. I couldn't help it. Despite how miserably frightened I had been feeling just a few moments ago, now I felt like it was all forgotten. The only thing on my mind was how hot this man was, and the fact that he was finally acknowledging my existence.

  "Do you want to sit down and catch a breath?" he asked, and without waiting for a response, he turned from me and pulled out the stool again.

  He was right, I did need to sit down. I hadn't realized how weak and unstable I had been feeling. I sat down on the stool, with him standing in front of me and we stared at each other in silence for a couple of moments.

  "You seem like you're an ace at this. You rescue women often?" I asked him, and there was a smile forming on his face finally. He had one of those faces that weren't made for smiling.

  "Once a day and twice on weekends," he replied, and I couldn't help but burst into a nervous laugh. He grinned as he watched me laugh, his green eyes glowed as I tucked some stray strands of golden hair behind my ears.

  The drink that Murray had bought me was still lying on the bar counter. I pushed it to the side not trusting what could be in it.