Ranger: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Cold Angels MC) (Bad Boy Bikers Club Book 4)

by Naomi West

  “Why cold?” I asked.

  “Because some people think that hell isn’t fire and brimstone like they say. Some think it’s a place that’s totally frozen over, away from the warmth of anything holy or good.”

  “The Angels and the Heretics,” I said. “All sounds very biblical.”

  He let out a snort of a laugh.

  “Something like that,” he said.

  The coffee maker finished brewing and Ranger poured himself a cup.

  “You want some?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “With a little cream, if that’s okay.”

  “I’d pass on that,” he said. “The only cream-like shit we got in this bar is the stuff we use to make drinks. And considering anyone who comes into this bar is drinking straight liquor or cheap beer, there’s no telling how fucking old it is.”

  “Um, just black then.”

  He poured me a cup and passed it to me before hopping over the bar and sitting in the stool next to mine.

  “So,” he said. “Your manager.”

  “Maxwell, right,” I said. “Still so weird to think that he’s gone.”

  “I don’t want to scare you, little lady,” he said. “But those guys last night did try to kill you. And they tried to kill you for a reason—to make sure there weren’t any witnesses. When guys kill for a reason like that, they’re not going to stop at one try.”

  I gulped hard. He was right—those guys were probably looking for me as we spoke.

  “So,” he said. “We need to figure out whatever we can that can help us figure out why a dude like Maxwell would get into it with a crew like the Heretics. Here—let’s start with how you two met.”

  “We met when he reached out to me online,” I said. “He found my YouTube channel and sent me an email, told me that I ‘had what it takes’ to be famous. Said that I needed someone like him to help guide me to stardom or something.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Ranger. “You have a YouTube channel?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “That’s how I got my start, or whatever you want to call it.”

  “I have to see it,” he said with a charming, devious grin.

  “Fine, fine,” I said.

  I took my phone out of my pocket and pulled up my channel on the YouTube app. I picked one of my most viewed songs and handed it over. There I was on the tiny screen, guitar on my lap in my bedroom.

  Ranger turned the volume up on the phone and listened to me sing. After a few minutes, the smallest hint of a smile appeared on his face. It looked like he was actually liking it.

  Then he shook his head and pressed pause.

  “A little too chick-y,” he said. “Make that guitar electric and do some shredding and maybe I’d be into it. You were good last night, though.”

  “Sorry to hear it’s not to your taste,” I said sardonically.

  “Hey,” he said, placing his finger on the view count for the video. “Two hundred thousand viewers can’t be wrong.”

  “That’s what Maxwell said,” I told him. “He said that he could be pushing me up to the millions if I gave him the chance. Said that all he needed was a ten percent cut and he’d do the rest.”

  “And did he?”

  “I don’t really know,” I said. “We’d only worked together for a few months. He got me some gigs here and there, but nothing too crazy. And a lot of the times they were at weird places like that bar. I was used to playing at coffee shops and open mics, not for dudes in leather.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You were a pretty weird choice for that clientele.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “And what was Maxwell like?” he asked.

  “He was … nice, I guess. Kind of sleazy; the sort of dude who couldn’t help but stare at any pair of legs that passed him by, even if I was sitting there across from him.”

  “He ever make a move on you?” asked Ranger.

  “No way,” I said. “I think he was smart enough to know that I would’ve shut him down and ended our little working relationship if he’d done anything stupid like that. But … I don’t know, I always got the impression he was into me. Sounds conceited, I know, but a girl can tell these things.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” he said. “Did you have any suspicions that he was involved in some shady shit? Stuff that might get him in trouble with guys like the Heretics?”

  “Not really,” I said. “Then again, he was the sort of dude who always wanted to be showing off the money he had. Said that you had to spend money to make it, so he always bought expensive, flashy suits, had a car that was probably worth more than my apartment, and was always buying drinks and treating people.”

  “I don’t think that’s what that expression means,” said Ranger.

  “Yeah, no kidding,” I said.

  “So he had an expensive lifestyle, is what you’re saying.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And sometimes I wondered if he actually had the money to pay for it. I mean, as far as I could tell his clients were all people like me—girls who were up-and-coming but hadn’t made it yet. It’s not like he was managing pop stars or anything like that.”

  “Hmm,” said Ranger. “Then there’s a possibility that he was getting into debt to pay for his flashy lifestyle.”

  “I don’t know for sure, but maybe.”

  Then my eyes went wide with realization.

  “Oh yeah!” I said.

  “What?” asked Ranger, setting down his cup of coffee.

  “When those two big guys were threatening me,” I said. “They said something about money, asking me if I had it.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Maxwell stepped in and said that it was his problem to worry about.”

  “Hmm,” said Ranger. “And the next thing you know, he’s getting popped in the head in some back room.”

  I shuddered, the mental image coming back to mind.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “So we can assume that he got into some money-related shit with the Heretics.”

  “Looks that way,” I said.

  “Fuck,” he said. “If I had five bucks for every time I heard about some dumb asshole getting into shit because he signed a deal with the devil like that …”

  He trailed off.

  Reimagining what had happened to Maxwell put me in a scared, uneasy mood. I suddenly wasn’t in the mood to talk much more about the subject, or be here in the bar.

  “Listen,” I said, ringing my hands. “I think I want to go home.”

  “You can when this is all taken care of,” said Ranger. “But for now it’s way too unsafe.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m serious—I want to go back to my apartment.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” asked Ranger. “For all you know some Heretics are waiting for you there right now. No way you’re going to risk that.”

  I shook my head.

  “That’s my choice to make,” I said. “And my place is locked up tight—no way anyone’s getting into that building. So, I want to go.”

  Ranger was still totally incredulous.

  “You’ve got one of the hardest bikers crews in the city out looking for you, and you want to go back to your apartment and wait it out? You really, honest-to-fucking-God think that’s a good idea?”

  Deep down, I knew it was crazy. But I realized that after everything that had happened, all I wanted was to get back to something resembling a normal life, back to my apartment, back to my bed, back to my kitty. Besides, I was right about my building—it had a security entrance and everything. No one was getting in without me knowing about it.

  “If I have any trouble I can call the cops,” I said.

  “Trust me,” he said. “You don’t want to count on the cops looking out for you.”

  Then he raised his palms and shook his head.

  “You know what? Fine. It’s your life. If you want to throw it away, that’s none of my business.”

  I took a sip of my coffee and
stared at the beams of morning sunlight on the dusty wooden floor of the bar.

  “Then I’d like to go now,” I said.

  “Fine,” said Ranger. “Let me grab your guitar.”

  Relief washed over me as I remembered that I hadn’t left it at the bar. My baby-blue guitar was my most prized possession, and I knew that if I’d forgotten it last night it would’ve been as good as gone.

  Ranger heaved out of his chair and disappeared into the back rooms of the bar. Moments later he returned holding the guitar by the neck.

  I let out a soft chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Just seeing a guy like you with a guitar like that.”

  His face was hard and stern. Ranger didn’t appear to think it was as funny as I did.

  “I don’t like this shit one bit,” he said, handing the guitar over to me. “Signing your own fucking death warrant.”

  Then he tilted his head towards the door, apparently not in the mood to argue the point with me.

  “Come on,” he said.

  I hopped off my chair and slung my guitar over my back, following close behind him. Once we were outside in the empty parking lot, Ranger led me over to his bike. He hopped on and gunned the engine.

  Then I remembered last night, the way I’d felt when I was on the back of his motorcycle, my arms wrapped around his body. Despite how scared I’d been, how out of it I was, I remembered loving the feeling and the thrill.

  “You gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna get on?” he asked.

  I gave a quick nod and climbed on the back of the bike.

  Now that I was stone-sober and not in the process of fleeing for my life, I could appreciate being on the back of the bike.

  The first thing I noticed was the vibration of the engine through my body. I closed my eyes and savored the sensation, the growl of the engine making my pussy tingle. I wrapped my arms around Ranger, the familiarity of the cool texture of his leather vest coming back to me.

  “You ready back there?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “My place is in Maplewood. I’ll tell you the address when we get here.”

  He gave one last nod before peeling out of the parking lot. Soon we were back on the road and headed towards my apartment.

  I knew it might be the last time I’d see Ranger, but I vowed to enjoy the ride.

  11

  Ranger

  I kept the bike at a steady speed on the way to Maplewood. After everything that had happened last night and this morning, I didn’t feel in the mood for too wild of a ride. Maybe later tonight, when I’d ditched the girl and could get back to focusing on the matters at hand.

  It was still hard to believe that she wanted me to leave her alone. I got it. I did. She’d seen some shit last night that no cute girl with a guitar should ever need to see. She’d gotten a glimpse at the gritty underbelly of a bar like that. It made perfect sense that she’d want to react by going back to her place and watching Netflix and ordering delivery and trying to pretend that it was all a shitty dream.

  But it wasn’t going to work. The Heretics didn’t fuck around, and there was no way that they’d let a witness to a murder walk around like that. They had the manpower, and probably had a few guys working on figuring out who Cassie was, and where she lived. Security door or no, they’d find their way in.

  So now I had something else to worry about. No fucking way was I going to drop her off at her apartment and be done with it. Nope—I’d have to keep an eye on her now. And I was going to have to make sure that she didn’t know about it. I’d have to be her guardian fucking angel, all while doing the other work of preparing for a potential war with the Heretics over pulling her ass out of the fire.

  What a shitshow.

  I kept the bike steady and straight as we headed down the interstate that led to Maplewood. I wanted to be pissed at the girl for giving me all this extra shit to worry about, but I just couldn’t do it. Something about the girl managed to make me put aside all my anger and frustration and feel nothing but a desire to protect her and keep her safe.

  Girls were fucked up like that. You’d feel one way, and all it’d take was one look with their big eyes and you’d feel yourself melt like fucking butter. And Cassie, despite me only knowing her for less than a day, was managing to make me feel like that in a way that no other girl had ever managed.

  It was weird, and it was freaking me out.

  Didn’t help matters much how good it felt to have her tight little body pressed against mine.

  Shit, just thinking about kissing her was enough to give me a semi as I drove. Cassie had tasted and felt so good, and I’d been ready to give her the pounding of a lifetime. And when I’d slipped my hand between her legs and felt the heat from her cunt, I had been sure she was ready to bend over and take it.

  Then she’d pulled away at the last minute. Typical fickle girl—she wanted it then didn’t. My blue balls ached something fierce, but I couldn’t really be all that mad at her. She struck me as the kind of girl who hooked up with nice college-type guys, the sorts who drove sensible sedans and worked nine-to-five office jobs. As soon as she’d realized she was about to get frisky with the kind of dude her parents had warned her about, she’d come back to reality right quick.

  So, it made sense, as annoying as it was. And it didn’t help matters that I could feel her perfect round tits pressed against my back. I glanced down at her hands clasped together around my stomach. I imagined one of them reaching down, undoing my zipper and belt, and taking my thick cock into them, working it hard as I drove down the highway …

  I shook my head and focused back on the road. Cassie was something else, but now I needed to focus on getting her back and figuring out how to keep her safe. Any bit of my brain used for fantasizing about the fun shit we could get up to was a waste.

  I pulled off the exit for Maplewood and came to a stop on the shoulder.

  “It’s on Winn Lane, near the Jones Street intersection” she said. “Big red-brick apartment building. I’ll point it out when we get to it.”

  “You got it, kiddo,” I said.

  I gunned the engine again and made my way towards the intersection. About ten minutes later we arrived there, passing the tall apartment buildings on our left and right. After a time, Cassie’s finger shot out in the direction of a red-brick building. I slowed the bike and came to a halt in front of it.

  “This is it,” she said as I killed the engine.

  She climbed off the bike.

  “Um, thanks,” she said. “For saving my ass and everything else.”

  Wasn’t the only thing I wanted to do with that ass.

  Then she turned and started off.

  “Wait,” I said. “You want me to leave you alone, that’s fine. But no way I’m letting you go up to that apartment without me checking it out first.”

  She glanced away and wrung her hands together. I could tell that she wanted to leave me there on the street, but at the same time, knew that I was right in wanting to make sure there wasn’t a gang of Heretics waiting for her.

  “Okay,” she said, nodding towards the front doors of the building. “Come on.”

  I hopped off my bike and pocketed the keys and was soon at Cassie’s side.

  We stopped in front of the front doors and I gave them a quick look over as she took out her keys.

  “This is the security door you were telling me about?” I asked.

  It was a standard wooden door with a glass-paneled front; nothing that a determined criminal couldn’t smash his way through. I didn’t like it one bit.

  “There’s this door and another one inside. Then the one to my apartment. It should be okay,” she said.

  I didn’t agree with her one bit, but I wasn’t about to argue with her about door safety. She’d made her decision, and that was that. Besides, keeping an eye on her from a distance might even be easier, the more I thought about it—not having to provide emotiona
l support for some shook-up girl.

  We entered through the second door then trudged up the stairs, my boots booming on the wooden steps. Finally, we arrived at her apartment on the third floor. I gave the door a quick look before she put her key in, making sure that it hadn’t been tampered with. Once I’d decided it was fine, I gave a nod to her to go ahead and open up.

  “Put the key in and unlock it, then stand back,” I said. “I’m gonna head in and make sure it’s clear.”

  “Okay,” she said, chewing on her lip in hesitation in a way I couldn’t help but find totally sexy.

  She unlocked the door and stepped back, like I’d asked. Once she did, I reached into my vest and took out the Glock 19 I always kept on me.

  “Holy shit,” whispered Cassie. “You’re not going to shoot that, are you?”

  “I will if I have to,” I said. “Now, stay back.”

  I opened the door and stepped inside. The apartment was the sort of place that I imagined for a girl like her. The furniture was cheap but stylish, the color palette was girly, and it was small but comfy. Not the kind of place I’d live in, but it probably worked for her.

  I raised the gun and swept through the living room. Nothing. Next was the kitchen. All clear in there too. After that I headed down the short hallway and checked out the bathroom, which was also clear. Finally, I stepped into the bedroom. The room was neat and tidy, the bed clean and made.

  A little computer setup was in the corner, complete with microphone and all—it was where she filmed her hundred-thousand-view-plus videos. My eyes lingered on the bed, and I imagined Cassie lying naked on it, her legs spread wide open and a sensual, inviting look in her eyes. My cock went half-hard again and I had to pinch my arm to get my cock to settle down.

  After a check of all the bedroom closets and under the bed, I determined that the place was clear. No Heretics had broken in. Yet.

  But right as I opened my vest and prepared to holster my pistol, I heard a loud shriek from the living room. My heart raced and I hauled ass back to the living room to see what the commotion was all about. A nightmare image of a group of Heretics waiting for me appeared in my mind, one of them holding a gun to Cassie’s temple.