Protecting Her
An Enemies to Lovers Romance
Natasha L. Black
Copyright © 2019 by Natasha L. Black
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Forbidden Daddy (Sample)
A Note from the Author
Also By Natasha L. Black
About the Author and Mailing List
Introduction
I didn't want to be friends...
But now I've got her in my bed.
Let me back track.
All I wanted was some peace when I got back from Iraq.
But I got the exact opposite.
A rival club gets mixed up with the cartel.
I'm called in to protect the leader's sister.
She couldn't get involved in the crossfire.
It'll be one of the toughest jobs I've ever had.
Did I mention she's smoking hot?
Curvy. Sassy. Devoted.
I had to protect her.
Once I get my hands on her...
I didn't want to let go.
She makes me feel alive.
I'll do anything to keep her safe.
To keep her with me.
F*ck the gang war that's going on.
She’s mine, and I’m going to make damn sure she knows it.
1
Trip
“And the grand total comes to two twenty-five seventy-five,” I printed out the bill hand handed it to the man standing in front of the counter.
“Are you sure? That’s a lot less than what any of the other shops in town are charging. There must be some mistake,” the man said.
“No mistake, Fred, you’ve been through here a lot, and we’re happy to give our most loyal customers a break,” I said with a grin.
“You’re a good man, Slade, I thank you,” the old man replied. He took off his hat and wiped the back of his hand over his brow, caught up with emotion. “Things haven’t been easy with Molly--”
His voice trailed off, and I nodded. I knew his wife was struggling with her chemo, and the financial burden on the old couple had been monumental. There wasn’t much we could do for them; Frank was a stubborn man whose parents endured the Depression and taught him never to take a handout from anyone.
So, I found ways to help where I could, and giving him a break for services through my shop was one of them.
“How’s she doing?” I asked.
“Oh, you know how it goes. Some days are good, some aren’t so good. We get through them all with a smile on our faces,” he waived his hand as he spoke, not wanting to go into too many details. I understood the pain of losing a loved one, and I respected his wishes.
“Well, you tell her I said hello, will you?” I asked.
“Will do. Have a good one, Slade,” he shook my hand before heading out the door, and I stood for a moment, reflecting before putting my copy of the bill in the drawer. I had no doubt he’d pay it when he was able, but I wasn’t going to harass him for the money.
The shop was doing well. With all the business we got from doing both car and bike repairs, we had more work than we knew what to do with. I had many of the guys from the MC down at the shop on the daily, helping out where they could if they didn’t know how to do the repairs themselves.
“He’s a cool guy,” a voice behind me said. I turned to see Odie, the youngest member of the Avenging Angels, leaning against the door frame.
“Frank’s good shit,” I agreed. “How’s the Harley?”
“Coming along. We’re waiting for Greg to get back with a part we need, then we’ll be back on track,” he replied. “Anything else on the books?”
“Not much. Axle will get the Pontiac done, and we need to get that Ford on the rack and see what’s going on there, then don’t forget that we have Church tonight,” I said.
“Yes, Sir,” Odie replied. He pushed himself away from the door frame and headed back into the shop, leaving me alone in the office once more. I didn’t usually like bringing the guys together for meetings. The only reason I called them was when there was some shit going down that we had to address, and these days I preferred to maintain order than fight for peace.
But, if the rumors floating around town were true, then there was shit that definitely needed to be addressed. And I would rather address it sooner than later. The longer I let shit go in my town, the worse it got.
Before I knew it, I could have had a real problem on my hands, and I’d worked too long and too hard to make sure that didn’t happen. I’d learned a lot in the twelve years since I turned twenty-one; perhaps the biggest lesson of all being that problems just don’t go away on their own, no matter how much you wish they would.
I glanced down at the rose tattoo on my right wrist. Talking to Frank brought up memories of pain that I often tried to forget but could never quite let go. The tattoo had faded some over the years, but Mercedes’ name was still visible, etched in a script intertwined throughout the thorns of the black rose.
It was just one of many tattoos I had running up my muscular arms. I worked out a lot, keeping in shape not only so I could maintain my shop without any trouble, but keep the streets free and clear for the people in town.
I liked my tattoos. They were all dark, matching my dark shock of hair and piercing blue eyes. I’d kept them on my arms and torso primarily, but there were times I thought I had room for one or two more.
Closing my eyes, I put my hand over the tattoo for a second, refusing to let the emotions take over. I was so lost in thought, caught up in the moment, I nearly jumped out of my skin when the phone rang right next to me.
My heart was still racing as I put it to my ear. PTSD was still a factor in my life, though I had been through the therapy and the medication to try to get it under control. It wasn’t as bad as it had once been, but three tours through Iraq was bound to leave an emotional scar – as well as a few physical ones.
“Need for Speed Auto and Bike Shop,” I said into the phone. “This is Trip, how can I help you?”
“Trip, this is Jenna Marcus,” the voice on the other end of the line was hushed and strained.
“Jenna?” I asked, alarm rising inside me. “Are you okay?”
“I want out, Trip,” she said. “I’m leaving, but he says he’s going to kill me if I do. I’m going to go to court, and he’s going to be served the papers tonight, but I don’t want to go alone. I need someone there for me.”
“Where are you?” I asked.
She was breathing hard into the phone. “I’m at home right now. He just left for work and won’t be back until later, but I’m going to be at my parents’ house by then. I’m packing a bag and leaving now.”
“I’ll be fine, but I don’t know what’s going to happen in that courtroom. I’m so scared, Trip, can you get one of your guys to be there for me?” she asked. The emotion was making her voice crack, and I had a difficult time talking to her without wanting to go find her husband myself.
“Don’t worry, Jenna, someone will be there. You won’t be alone; I promise you,” I said. “Get safe and stay there until you know you are.”
“I will,” she sobbed into the phone. “Thank you so much.”
“Keep your chin up. You’re going to get through this,” I assured her. She thanked me again and hung up the phone, but I wanted to punch something. It pissed me off hearing about the domestic abuse that went on in town. It couldn’t just be something that happened in southern California, but it sure as hell felt like it was.
But there was another part of me that was glad women like Jenna knew they could come to us for help. I’d worked damn hard to create the reputation the Avenging Angels had.
My MC ran a clean trade. We kept the streets free of drugs and illegal gun activity, we served the community through the mechanic shop, and me and my men would stand by women who were trying to get out of abusive relationships.
They were often scared and alone and didn’t feel they had anyone they could turn to. I wanted to prove to each one they were safe with us around, and I wasn’t going to quit until those kinds of calls stopped coming in.
“Pontiac is done!” Axle said triumphantly as he walked into the office from the shop. His hands were greasy, and he had smudges of oil on his face, but his smile showed how happy he was with the fact he’d finally managed to figure out the problem and fix it.
“Five hundred even will do it. Trip, you okay?” his smile faded when he saw the look on my face. I was staring straight out the window, not paying attention to what he was saying about the car. There was too much going through my mind to care about what was wrong with the vehicle at the moment.
“It’s Jenna,” I said. “She’s going through with the divorce.”
“Oh, shit,” Axle replied. “What happened?”
I shook my head. “She didn’t go into details. Just called me a few minutes ago and told me she’s going to her parents’ house. The court date is coming up in a few days and she wants one of us to be there for her.”
“I’ll take it,” Axle replied immediately. “I’ve been telling her to get rid of that piece of shit since before she married him.”
I nodded. It was true. Axle had had a crush on the woman since long before she met and married the man who was now her husband. But he was too much of a gentleman to interfere in her life. He told her multiple times that the man wasn’t any good for her, and she was far better off alone than with a monster like her husband.
But the young girl was blinded by love and headstrong and refused to listen. She thought Anthony Marcus was the best thing to ever happen to her, despite the black eyes and mental abuse that was common since day one.
“Did he hurt her again?” Axle asked. He was pacing back and forth in the shop, and I had a feeling he was just as ready to go jump the man as I was.
“She didn’t offer any details,” I said again. “She sounded like she was in a rush, and I didn’t want to hold her on the phone in case she was. If she needed to get out of there and get somewhere safe, it was better that she did that first, then called and hashed things out after.”
“I’ll kill him if he did,” Axle growled.
“Let’s not go that far at this point,” I warned. “We’re not sure what happened. I’m hoping to God she finally came to her senses and decided to get out of there before things got worse. She didn’t say anything about him hitting her.”
“Not like she would on the phone,” he said with a shake of his head. “God, I hate that man. He’s a monster, and I hope he burns in hell.”
“He’s going to get what’s coming to him,” I replied. “They always do. Our part is to stand by her and make sure she’s safe. If you want to take that yourself, go for it.”
“I do,” he said with a nod. “I’m not going to let him come within fifty feet of her.”
“Do what you think is best,” I nodded. He shook his head, still full of fury as he headed back into the shop. I could relate. There was a time when I felt that level of anger at the thought of any man putting his hand on a woman.
It hit too close to home.
During my second tour in the military ten years prior, my sister had been murdered by her abusive husband. Like Axle, I often told her that he wasn’t any good for her, and I wanted her to get away from him as soon as possible.
But, like Jenna, she had been too blinded by love and the attention that he gave her to give my opinion any real thought. She made excuses for the way he treated her, and ultimately, it cost her life.
As an Army Ranger at the time, I wanted to take matters into my own hands. I wanted to hunt down the guy that did it and do to him everything that he did to her. But I had to let the justice system do its work.
He got what was coming to him. The Death Penalty that I pushed to be carried out until it was finally was four years after the fact. But it was at that moment – when the sentence was finally carried out – I realized nothing was going to bring Mercedes back.
She was gone, and even with her murderer gone, I didn’t feel any better. It took another tour in Iraq to get much of my aggression out, and when I returned home, I knew I had to start a club that would bring others like me together.
And so, the Avenging Angels was born.
2
Megan
“Now, there’s no need to act like this is the worst thing you’ve ever been through. I’m trying to help you out. I want you all to understand that when you’re out there, the people who are already living that life are going to try to make you think that it’s the coolest thing you can do, but it’s not,” I looked around at the faces of the bored teenagers staring back at me.
Though I was twenty-eight years old and had a master’s degree, there were times I still felt like one of them. I was shorter than most being the petite woman that I was, and I often found it easy to pull my brunette hair into a messy bun. It was so much faster in the morning than trying to deal with any hairstyle.
I had to wear it in a far different way at my other job. A sexier way, as my boss put it, that brought out how green my eyes really were. But here, standing in front of this group of teenaged seniors, I kept everything as simple as possible.
I smiled warmly, flipping through the presentation I’d put together. It was a difficult thing, giving these lectures once a month. It was all that the school was allowing me for now, but I was working to change all that.
As the school counselor, I knew many of the students in Barstow High well. But I wasn’t happy with how I worked with them. My goal was to keep them off the streets, as far away from drugs and alcohol as possible, and train them to believe that life was far more fulfilling with good jobs and honest pay than through gangs, motorcycle clubs, or the cartel.
I wanted to have a lecture I could give students weekly, not just showing them the dark side of that kind of life but showing them how good life could be if they chose to work hard through school, graduate, and push themselves to be the best they could be.
But for now, I had to work with what I was given and try my best to make up for it with the students I saw throughout my days at the school.
There were some I feared were already on the path to destruction. All of those students came from broken homes, and often with the influence of some organized crime already present in their lives.
Those were the ones who were hardest to reach, and they were the ones I was most desperate for. But still, I saw value in showing all the kids at the school who were on the brink of graduation and adulthood what they could be if they just chose to work for it.
<
br /> “Come on, Teach, it’s Friday, we want to get out of here!” one of the boys near the back of the class called out.
“You and me both, Andreas, but this is important. Think about what you can do with your life if you dedicate yourself to your studies now!” I said enthusiastically. I knew many of the students who were present were struggling to keep their grades up, and some of them had to bring their grades up if they hoped to graduate in the spring.
Since it was early on in the first semester of the year, I had made it my mission to get as many of these kids motivated enough to graduate as possible.
“I think I could do a whole lot more with my weekend if you would get through with this dumb lesson and we could move on,” he challenged. Other students in the group laughed, while a few looked embarrassed for me.
“Then let’s get to it. You know the more you guys participate, the sooner we’re going to get through this,” I replied. I had learned part of the key to getting them to engage with me through the lesson was to ask them to participate.
So many times a question would hang in the air, silence ensuing. But, if I refused to move on until someone gave me their opinion, it was a lot easier to get them to respond, if for no other reason than to move me along.
It wasn’t a fool proof method, and there were still plenty of kids who hung back and refused to engage with me when I spoke. But at least there were others who were talking. Anyone who voiced their opinion not only gave the other students something to think about, but it gave me something to study and focus on when I tried to help those students.
Protecting Her: An Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 1