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

by Naomi West

  A few chuckles sounded out among the men. Fights like these were nothing new to them—it was how men like us solved disputes.

  But as I turned back to Dakota, I caught sight of someone standing in the cracked-open door of the stairwell, someone who I hadn’t noticed before.

  It was Cassie. She’d seen everything, and a look of fear was painted all over her gorgeous face.

  22

  Cassie

  I couldn’t believe what I’d seen. Ranger had clocked that guy in the face like it was nothing, hitting him so hard that he’d knocked him right on his ass. And what was more than that, it was a member of his own crew.

  And he’d done it to stick up for me. I’d stood there in my spot in the door, watching it all while in hiding. But now I’d been spotted.

  “Yo!” called out Ranger as he stood in the center of the room, the attention of all the men on him. “It’s fucking late. All of you need to get some sleep—sounds like petty bullshit, but an hour or two of sleep might make the difference between dodging a punch and getting slugged in the face.”

  Dakota stepped up.

  “Ranger’s right—if we’re going to stand a chance against their numbers, you’re all going to need to be on your top game. That means no more getting shitty drunk until I give the all-clear.”

  A few disappointed grunts sounded among the men.

  “Now get some rest.”

  The group broke up, all the guys going their separate ways until it was just Dakota and Ranger.

  “I’ll keep you posted,” said Dakota. “Got a feeling this is gonna get worse before it gets any better.”

  “Let know about Diesel as soon as you do, boss,” said Ranger.

  Dakota gave Ranger a clap on his bare shoulder and left. When it was just Ranger, he called out.

  “Come on out,” he said.

  Part of me wanted to hide like I was a little kid hoping to avoid trouble. But there was no use—Ranger had seen me there. I opened the door and stepped into the common room.

  Despite everything, Ranger still looked good as hell. He was in nothing but his boots and his jeans, the jeans hanging off the trim notches of his hips. He gave me a once-over and pointed to the couch.

  “What … what the hell just happened?” I asked.

  Ranger raised his eyebrows.

  “What just happened?” he asked. “What exactly are you confused about?”

  “You punched that guy right in the face,” I said. “And he wasn’t some thug or something; he was one of your own men.”

  Ranger let out an amused snort and crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles bulging.

  “You watched how we resolve questions to authority in our world,” he said. “That guy, Pitt, thought he had a better idea of how to run things than I did. So, I gave him his chance to take me down a peg. And he didn’t manage to pull it off.”

  “And now what?” I asked, still confused.

  “Now he knows better than to step up to me again.”

  “Isn’t he going to be mad at you?” I asked.

  “What,” he said. “You asking if he’s going to hold a grudge?”

  “Something like that, I guess.”

  “Nope,” he said. “This might look barbaric to you, but this is how men like us take care of this shit. Fastest way to cut through the bullshit is to fight it out. Think of it as a pressure valve.”

  “I suppose … that makes some kind of sense,” I said, walking over and sitting on the couch where the man Ranger had just slugged had been only a few minutes ago.

  “Trust me,” he said. “The worst fucking thing in a crew like this, where every guy’s got the testosterone of a raging gorilla, is to let shit stew. That may have looked rough to you, but trust me—it’s for the best. Pitt might still be pissed off, but once this shit’s all blown over, him and I will be knocking back shots of whiskey together at the bar like usual.”

  There was something else to the matter, something that went beyond the fight itself: the fact that it had been over me.

  I shook my head and put my face in my hands.

  “That guy,” I said. “The one who got hurt. They’re right—it is my fault.”

  Ranger’s expression turned grim.

  “No,” he said. “You’re wrong.”

  “If you would’ve just walked away—”

  “You’d be dead,” he said.

  He spoke the words as though they were the most awful he could imagine.

  “I don’t want to hear another word about it,” he said. “I made the call and that’s that.”

  His tone was cutting and severe. His eyes were narrowed and he looked as serious as I’d ever seen him.

  “Okay,” I said. “Not another word about it.”

  Ranger put his hand on my shoulder and I felt better instantly. There was something about his touch and his presence that made me feel as though I didn’t need to worry about a thing. It was like nothing else.

  “You still look tense,” he said.

  “I am,” I said.

  Ranger put his hands on my hips and turned me slightly so my back was facing him. Before I could ask what he was doing, he set his palms on my shoulders and began rubbing.

  “Oh my God …” I moaned, the massage instantly relaxing my muscles and putting me at ease.

  “Just relax,” he said.

  He’d get no argument from me. Ranger worked on my shoulders for a time before going down my back. His touch was like magic, and he made sure to leave no muscle unattended to. By the time he was done, I felt as though I might melt into a warm, blissed-out puddle.

  “How was that?” he asked, giving me a pat on the middle of my back.

  “So … so fucking nice,” I said. “Now let me do you.”

  He shook his head.

  “Nah,” he said. “That was all about you. Maybe when we’re all done with this war, I’ll let you take a crack at my knots.”

  He flashed me a boyish smirk.

  “Thanks,” I said, blurting out the word.

  “For what?” he asked. “You don’t need to keep thanking me for saving your life, you know.”

  “Not that,” I said. “But you sticking up for me like you did back there. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I did it because it was the right thing to do,” said Ranger. “Pitt’s a good man, but sometimes guys like him only think about themselves, and maybe the rest of the crew on a good day. They forget that sometimes the innocent can get caught up in our bullshit. And when that happens, it’s our job to protect them.”

  They were words that struck me as somewhat strange to hear from a rough-looking biker like Ranger, almost like they’d sound more fitting coming out of the mouth of a medieval knight.

  “You’re a surprising guy,” I said, a smile spreading across my lips.

  He chuckled.

  “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  “It’s a very good thing,” I said.

  I leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his lips, leaving them there for a time until his lovely taste filled my mouth.

  When I took my mouth from his, I noticed a pensive expression on his face.

  “Did my kiss give you a lot to think about?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “It’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Just thinking about what my next step’s going to be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean with the war. Things are heating up, but there’s got to be some way we can avoid a full-on bloodbath.”

  I thought the matter over, still enjoying how loose and relaxed my muscles felt.

  “What about Maxwell?”

  Ranger turned his attention to me.

  “What about him?”

  “Well, we know that he was involved in some shady stuff, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Maybe if we find out what he was up to with the girls and everything else, we can find something that you can give to the Here
tics. Maybe he had some money that he was hiding—who knows?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re right,” he said. “That shithead was in it deep, and if they were willing to kill him over it that means there’s something worth looking into.”

  “How about in the morning we check out his place? I know where he lived. Plus, I’ve still got a key.”

  “Sounds good,” said Ranger. “But now, I think I’m ready for some rest.”

  I leaned in and kissed him softly again, curling up in his arms being about the best way I could imagine to end this hectic day.

  23

  Cassie

  I woke up curled next to Ranger, my head tucked between his thick, strong arm and his body. His eyes opened slowly, the sunlight streaming in making them look even more sparkling and gorgeous than usual.

  “Morning, kiddo,” he said.

  “Morning,” I said right back with a smile.

  We looked deeply into each other’s eyes, a strange feeling running through me. It wasn’t arousal—though being in his arms definitely turned me on like nothing else. It was something more than that, something deeper.

  It was so odd to me to be feeling this way towards a man I’d only known for such a short period of time. But the feelings were there, and I couldn’t pretend they weren’t. There was something amazing happening between Ranger and me, something I couldn’t ignore, even if I wanted to.

  And I most definitely didn’t want to.

  “We need to get up,” he said, slipping his arm out from underneath me. “Got a lot on our plate today.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  I agreed, but I was secretly a little disappointed. Part of me had hoped that he and I could have some fun before the day began.

  I rolled off him and got on my feet. Moments later the two of us were dressed, and a short time after that we were on his bike and headed downtown to the luxury condo where Maxwell lived. Ranger pulled to a stop on the street and the two of us got off the bike and walked up to the gleaming tower of glass and steel.

  “Damn,” he said. “Looks like your boy was doing pretty well for himself.

  “‘Looks like’ being the key words. I wouldn’t be surprised if everything in this place was bought on credit. Maxwell was obsessed with projecting an image of success. Whether or not he had the money to back it up is a different story.”

  We headed into the lobby, which was a space that always reminded me of a tacky Las Vegas casino floor, gold and lights everywhere. A quick elevator ride later and we were in front of his door. I slipped the key into the lock and opened the door.

  The place was a mess. Furniture had been overturned, books pulled off the shelves, and cabinets and drawers emptied and tossed aside.

  “Damn,” said Ranger as we entered. “Looks like someone beat us to it.”

  The décor left plenty to be desired. The place was done up like a sleazy LA producer’s pad with all the gaudiness that entailed.

  Ranger and I went into the apartment and I stepped up to the window, the floor-to-ceiling glass looking out over the city. Ranger came to my side and looked out with me.

  “View’s not bad,” he said. “Too bad about the rest of the place.”

  Then he turned around and started looking through the apartment, listlessly picking up bits of thrown-around furniture as if he might find exactly what we were looking for, whatever that might’ve be, underneath a stray chair.

  “Shit,” said Ranger. “Not sure what we’re going to find here if the Heretics already ransacked the place.”

  A thought occurred to me.

  “Come into the bedroom,” I said.

  Ranger raised an eyebrow.

  “You think we got time for that?” he asked with a grin.

  I couldn’t help but smile as I rolled my eyes. And really, a little fun didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. But he was right, even if he was joking—we didn’t have the time. There was too much at stake.

  “No,” I said. “I’m not talking about … that. Come on.”

  I led him into the bedroom, the space making the rest of the apartment look tasteful in comparison. The walls were a deep purple, the bed situated in the middle of the room, a light-rimmed mirror affixed to the ceiling above it.

  “Classy,” said Ranger, taking in the scene.

  Relief flowed through me as I saw that only the mattress had been removed.

  “Come here and help me move the bed,” I said, putting my hands on the box spring.

  Ranger strolled over to the box spring and, with an effortless movement, flipped it over before I even had a chance to think about it.

  “That works too,” I said.

  Under the bed was a large rug. I grabbed it and moved it aside, revealing a large steel safe built into the floor.

  “Whoa,” said Ranger. “That’s some serious security. You know what he keeps in there?”

  “Nope,” I said. “But one time I peeked into his bedroom while I was here and saw him getting into something in here. I bet whatever’s in there is important.”

  Ranger kneeled down and knocked on the safe. A deep thunk sounded out.

  “I hope you’ve got some C4 in that purse of yours, because this thing looks to be about six inches of solid steel.”

  I dropped down to my knees and typed a code into the security panel. The red light next to it turned green with a beep and the safe unlocked.

  Ranger regarded me with an impressed expression.

  “Now how the hell did you know the code?” he asked.

  “Maxwell was one of those geniuses who used his birthday for every password. I told him it was a bad idea, but he never listened.”

  “His loss is our gain,” said Ranger as he reached down and grabbed the handle of the safe.

  With a grunt, he pulled the safe open. I gasped at what I saw inside. It was package after package of white powder, all bundled up into uniform portions.

  “Holy shit,” I said. “Is that …”

  Ranger took a pocket knife out of his jeans, popped it open, and lightly poked the package nearest to him. He pressed his finger against the opening and dabbed his fingertip on his tongue.

  “Holy hell,” he said, his eyes going wide. “Maxwell wasn’t screwing around with this stuff.”

  “Does that mean it’s good?” I asked. “I don’t know anything about cocaine.”

  “It’s, uh, pretty damn good,” he said.

  He stood up and looked over the contents of the safe.

  “And this is a shitload,” he said. “Stuff this pure … I’m guessing he has a quarter of a million worth of it here.”

  “Holy shit,” I said. “No wonder the Heretics wanted him so badly.”

  “Yeah,” said Ranger. “He was probably holding onto this for them and selling it on his own. Heretics must’ve thought he wasn’t moving it fast enough.”

  He squinted his eyes and squatted down.

  “What’s that?” he asked. “On your side. That envelope.”

  I glanced down where he was pointing and took a look. Sure enough, there was a manila envelope tucked into the side of the safe. I picked it up and looked inside.

  “It’s DVDs,” I said. “And the envelope says ‘casting couch’ on it.”

  I tossed the envelope over to Ranger and he looked it over.

  “The computer behind you,” he said, pointing to a laptop on a nearby desk. “Type in his birthday and let’s see.”

  “I’m afraid to look,” I said.

  I opened up the laptop and powered it up. Sure enough, the birthday password worked here too. I slipped in one of the disks, and right away, a video file began playing. It was a pretty girl, seated on a black leather couch. Despite being totally gorgeous, she looked dazed, with a faraway expression on her face.

  “Hey!” I said. “I know her. That’s … Melanie Ford. She was one of the other girls Maxwell worked with.”

  I skipped ahead a few minutes and was shocked to see that now a couple o
f men, both of whom looked like bikers, were in the room with her.

  “I don’t like where this is going,” said Ranger.

  I clicked here and there in the file, gasping as I watched Melanie engage in all sorts of disgusting sex acts with the bikers, one after another. I could hardly watch, but I saw enough to notice that she had the same glassy-eyed expression on her face throughout it all.

  I closed the laptop in disgust.

  “Fucker,” hissed Ranger. “Glad the piece of shit is dead.”

  I couldn’t help but agree, though I was almost ashamed to say it out loud.

  “What do we do now?” I asked.

  “We load up these drugs and go see Dakota. If this whole war is because of this stash, then giving it back to the Heretics might be enough to stop this conflict before it gets too out of control.

  “And the girls?” I asked. “All of these discs are a different girl, someone like me, some girl who just wanted to sing and share her music. Are we just going to leave them like this?”

  Ranger shook his head.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “If the Heretics stop the war if we give them the drugs, I don’t know if we’ll be in a position to ask for anything more.”

  His words were like a shard of glass in the gut.

  “At least Maxwell’s dead,” I said. “He won’t get any more girls trapped like this.”

  Ranger went over to the closet and grabbed a pair of duffel bags from inside, tossing one to me.

  “Load up,” he said.

  “We’re driving with all these drugs?” I asked.

  “I’ve driven with worse,” he said. “And the HQ is only a few minutes from here.”

  It sounded crazy, but I did as he asked. And my stomach tightened in fear at the idea of what was to come.

  24

  Ranger

  We pulled up to the HQ, the duffel bags filled with unheard of amounts of coke slung over our shoulders. I marched through the bar and made a beeline to Dakota’s office. He called for me to come in after I gave his door a quick rap.