Savage Protector: Outlaw Justice

by Gayle, E. M.

  Because of our height difference, it easily covered my butt and some of my thighs. I didn’t care if that made me look silly. Wearing his shirt felt sublime.

  “I have to say I didn’t expect you to be a Marine.”

  He paused from uncovering all of the food. “That sounds mysterious. What did you expect?”

  “I thought for sure you were some kind of bad boy badass. The trouble kind. I mean you had the whole package going. Old leather jacket that looked worn enough to have seen lots of action, torn denim, cigarette dangling from your lips. You also said something about a bike. I had this whole fantasy going.” As he stared at me in silence I tugged nervously at the hem of the shirt even though I knew I was covered.

  “Really?” he finally asked. “You don’t think Marines are badasses?”

  “Well, yeah. If I think about you on the front line of some war with a big gun in your hands defending the country from some crazy, I definitely get a badass vibe. Just different. More hero less criminal.” I took the plate he offered and put it down on the bed in front of me.

  “Beer okay or you want something else?” He held up one of the long necks I ordered and tipped it my way.

  “Beer's good.” I took the offered bottle.

  “I want to hear more about this badass you thought I was. Criminal huh? You got a thing for bad boys?”

  He scooted onto the bed directly across from me and folded his legs across each other. I had no idea why his posture or seating position struck me, but I realized we were about to share our first meal and what should have been some weird after sex awkward date was completely comfortable.

  “I don’t know. I have kind of a warped view of the world. I never seem to see things as they really are. I guess you could say I’ve lived a not so innocent sheltered life. So when I think badass it’s more like what I see on television. A little more criminal.” Or the kind of guys my father kept on his payroll. I might have been sheltered, but I certainly wasn’t blind. No man guarded his secrets like my father unless they were the kind that could get him in a lot of trouble.

  “Sheltered, huh? You don’t fuck like you’ve been sheltered.”

  I blushed hot and fast, almost choking at the vulgarity of his statement. Yet, the blunt language appealed to me in a way I couldn’t explain.

  “I’ve never done—it—like that before. But I did say not too innocent.” I took a bite of my club sandwich to keep from saying anything else idiotic for at least the next thirty seconds or so. I also didn’t want to explain my limited sexual history to a man who I didn’t know very well. I wasn’t ready for that kind of embarrassment.

  “Fuck too ugly a word for it? Cause in my world fucking is a very good thing. Hot like between the two of us, the best.” He tipped his beer back and took several swallows while I watched his throat work. I bit my lip.

  “Your world? You mean the Marines?”

  He leaned his beer on his leg and started rubbing the edge of the label. “No, babe. Me and the Marines… We broke up. Got injured on my last assignment and they decided I wasn’t fit for duty anymore.” He pulled up the leg of his sweats up to his knee and showed me several scars I hadn’t notice in the shower. They weren’t old and faded yet, so I guessed this injury wasn’t that long ago.

  “I don’t understand. Your knee didn’t seem to bother you on the roof or in the shower.” I blushed again from thinking about it.

  “The Marine Corps has rigid standards for physical fitness that I can’t meet one hundred percent of the time. That means I’m out even if I am capable of just about anything. Almost one hundred percent isn’t good enough.”

  I nodded, not exactly understanding the justification on the behalf of the Marines. How could they release a near perfect specimen? I hadn’t even seen him limp and he’d carried me on the roof just fine.

  But I suppose if events were different and he was still a Marine, we would have never met.

  Or if I’d gotten married to the disgusting criminal my father handed me over to.

  “So what do you do now?”

  His eyes narrowed a little, some of the light leaving them. He took another tug on the beer. “Don’t know yet. Just got home...” He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Yesterday.”

  “Oh.” What else was I supposed to say? Sorry about losing your job? Not like I could judge. I’d never officially worked a day in my life. Not because I didn’t want to, but because my father wouldn’t allow it. He insisted I grow up differently than he did and when I followed his carefully laid out plan, I would marry a wealthy man and be a great support to my husband and his family.

  It all sounded antiquated, but kind of sweet in his old school way until I realized too late there was a dirty under layer to his plans that was more about business connections than some sort of fatherly protection.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I saw myself staying in the Corps until retirement, not going back to my old life.”

  His eyes narrowed again and sparked my curiosity. “Old life? What does that entail?”

  “You sure you want to know? I was as far from sheltered as I could get and you might not like me as much once you know.”

  Now I was intrigued. I set down the rest of my sandwich and shifted a little closer until our knees touched. “Oh I definitely want to know. Besides, anything has to be more exciting than my life of home school, security guards and stuffy dinner parties.”

  His brows lifted and I could see the questions in his eyes. He refrained from asking.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you, but then you owe me.”

  I grinned, imagining exactly what I would owe him and hoping it meant more of those amazing orgasms he kept giving me and not me detailing my ugly family history. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.” I cringed a little. Hopefully, I could handle his whatever.

  “You sure you're ready?”

  I laughed. “Lay it on me. I’m a big girl.”

  “I grew up in an MC in the tiny speck on the map called Sultan, Washington, only a couple of hours ride from here, but as far from city life as you could imagine.”

  “MC?”

  “Motorcycle club.”

  I grabbed his thighs and leaned forward. “Oh my God. Like on television. I knew it. You are a badass.”

  He rolled his eyes at me. “Badass Marine, remember? And no, living in an MC is not like what you watch on television. Even reality television isn’t reality, let alone some scripted show where the bad guys do so much crazy shit any real person would be dead or rotting away in prison for life within a year.”

  “Awww. Don’t ruin it for me. I liked watching it. It’s the perfect show for a drinking game. Every time someone gets shot, drink. Every time someone tells a lie, drink. Every time someone cheats on their girl, drink. And so on. Thanks to my best friend, Mr. Patron, I’ve never made it through an entire episode sober.”

  “You’re a nut, babe.”

  “I am not a nut. Sheltered remember? I lived vicariously through my binge watching.”

  “You are a nut. But I want a kiss anyway.”

  He pulled me into his lap and covered my mouth with his. I almost melted from the instant shot of heated lust from him to me. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck, holding me close with a firm grip. His tongue touched mine and I had to place my hands on his chest to steady myself.

  Heat flared between my legs, but I wasn’t ready to go there quite yet. I wanted to hear more of his story. I was fascinated about this club of his. With great effort, I pulled free and sat back. “I want more story. No fair distracting me.”

  He groaned. “Okay, fine. But don’t forget you offered quid pro quo.”

  I didn’t care what I had to do in return as long as he kept talking to me in that rough low voice that gave me goosebumps. Him getting turned on by me was the most attractive sound I’d ever heard.

  This time he didn’t let go as he cleared the dishes before he turned to the side and spread us out on the bed with my back to his front. He even
grabbed my hips and nestled me against his already hard cock. With that tucked between my cheeks I was already growing slick. I had no idea how long I could hold out before I begged him for sex again and I had a feeling that was all part of his plan.

  “You’re like the devil. The little one that sits on your shoulder and whispers about how much fun bad is.”

  A rumble of laughter vibrated through my back. “Then we’re perfect together. The princess and the devil, a match made in lust.”

  I was going to resist as long as I could, but I had a feeling I didn’t have much time. “Story, please.”

  He sighed, but continued. “My father was the president. Held that title for most of my underage life.”

  “Ooh like—” He covered my mouth with his hand, cutting me off.

  “You want me to tell the story or not?”

  I nodded my head, his hand still wrapped around my mouth.

  “Our family didn't start out in the club. My father was in the Army when I was born. So I guess you could say the military was in my blood as much as the MC. But after spending some time in the sand box during Desert Shield and Desert Storm, he got out. That's when him and his best friend started the club.

  I guess back then it was fun. They wanted to spend as much time as possible on the road where they could ride free. Freedom is a huge focus for a biker. Over the years the club grew from guys wanting to live on their own terms to a focus on how to make easy money. Life stopped being simple.”

  I stopped trying to interject and got lost in his story of growing up with a motorcycle club. He didn’t say too much about hardcore criminal activity, but there was plenty about fighting, drinking, smoking weed and wild sex to keep me entertained. I had a feeling there was a lot he wasn’t telling me, but I expected that at this point.

  The two of us lying in bed was as natural to me as if I’d known him for years. Some of the violence and danger he witnessed reminded me of my own family. Early on I was a nosy child and I used to sneak around the house listening to my father. Those were stories I could never share with anyone. I barely comprehended them myself.

  By the time he got to the part about his mother’s accidental death though, silent tears were streaming down my face. I could see the pain shining in his eyes. We were two totally different people with different backgrounds, yet we shared many similarities.

  “Shhh. It’s okay, Princess. You don’t have to cry for me.” He was rubbing his hand up and down my back trying to soothe me. And it did. I wanted to tell him about my mother too, but the memories were still too harsh. My mother had been gone less than a month when my father informed me that I was getting engaged to a stranger. I thought I was going to finally start college, albeit a few years later than most people.

  That memory dried my tears. The cruel man I called father did not deserve them.

  “It’s three in the morning, beautiful and we’ve been talking for hours. I think we should get some sleep.”

  “Okay,” I whispered. I did feel drained. And for the moment I was safe. My badass biker Marine would make sure of it. I smiled and tucked his hand under my chin. I closed my eyes and savored his warmth. I was sleepy…

  “Hey, Princess.” His voice sounded so far away.

  “Hmmm.”

  “Why did you run away from your wedding?”

  I was wrapped in a nice safe cocoon where nothing and no one could get to me. I was even floating on the edges of sleep…

  “Because I was afraid of what the man I was being forced to marry was going to do to me and I didn’t want to die.”

  Chapter Ten

  Izzy

  I had to admit, the morning after my first one-night stand with a stranger had started out better than I could have imagined. I peeked out the hotel window to see the sun had come up and blanketed Seattle in an achingly beautiful warm glow. Summer was supposed to be long gone by now and the gray days of Fall settling in. Mother Nature obviously had something else on her mind today and even the most pessimistic among us couldn’t ignore. I was grateful for it.

  My body ached from the previous night’s activity, but it was so worth it. Houston Reed, my motorcycle riding badass I’d found on a pier, had skills even I couldn’t have dreamt of. What that man could do with his hands, his tongue and his giant cock were so far out there they should be considered criminal.

  There was also no walk of shame.

  Although if I was to get technical, that was only because I had no home to walk back to.

  My name is Isabella and I’m a runaway bride.

  I giggled as the image of my veil being ripped from my head by the wind as I made my dramatic mad dash from the church to a cab swept through my mind.

  While it sounded glamorous for like half a second, I knew all too well it was not.

  My father might be sitting at the breakfast table with his standard fresh fruit, scrambled eggs and two pieces of rye unbuttered toast this morning, but underneath that civilized veneer he would be seething.

  I’d screwed up. Big time. And the great criminal mastermind, Frank Mazzeo, would not let that go unpunished. He had standards and rules for every person in his life and that included the daughter he seemed to hate.

  Houston walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, tucking my head under his chin. “Morning again, Princess.”

  “Why do you keep calling me that?”

  “Because that’s what I thought of the first time I saw you in that white gown. Wish you could have seen how it looked when you appeared out of the mist and fog on that pier. Big flowing dress, long silky dark hair framing your face. The way you moved and searched the area. I thought I’d tripped and fallen into a movie set.”

  His honesty shocked me and warmed my core. But he’d seen someone who wasn’t me. A charade my father’s team put together to parade out in public when it suited his fancy. I turned in his arms and tipped my head back to meet his gaze.

  “And now? What do you see? I don’t have a fancy dress anymore or a hairdresser to blow out my frizzy hair. Hell, right now I don’t even have makeup.”

  Houston smiled, sifting his fingers through the massive length of curls I called hair. I knew what I looked like now. Plain. But maybe a little wild too. I could get on board with that and I hoped he would too.

  “I like you better this way. Your hair is gorgeous like this, especially when it falls across your naked ass. I think it's been made pretty clear how much I love your fantastic body.” He grabbed my hips and settled his hand into the indents of my waist. “I could give a fuck about make up. Your skin is too gorgeous to hide with that crap. But this, this is my kind of perfection.”

  I smiled, reveling in his tight grip on my body. “So hair and ass. Good to know I’ve got what you like.”

  He smirked and pinched my nipple through his shirt. “I like it all, babe. You’re going to always be a princess to me whether you’re in a fancy gown or a pair of tight jeans on the back of my bike. Makes no difference to me. As long as I got you like this too.”

  My stomach flip-flopped. He made it sound like there was more to this than just a day or two in his hotel room. God it would be so easy to get attached. Except I was currently homeless with little direction of what came next. Not to mention my plan was to get as far away from Seattle as I could. The longer I stayed the more likely I’d be found.

  “Tell me more about this Sultan, Washington. Where exactly is it?”

  He grinned. “Have you really never been to Stevens Pass in the Cascades? Or Leavenworth? To get to either of those from Seattle you go right through the heart of tiny Sultan.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t travel. Although I do sort of remember that Stevens Pass from my required Washington history class when I was being homeschooled. Something to do with the Northern Railroad in the 1800s, right?”

  “Yep. Sounds like you and I need to take a day trip. You can’t appreciate Highway 2 from a book like you can the back of my bike.”

  Again, he referred
to us spending more time together after today. I wanted to harden my heart from his kindness, but it was impossible. I closed my eyes, preserving this very moment in vivid detail. I had a feeling one day soon I would need the memory. Although I wholeheartedly believed I would never forget him and his kindness.

  He was making a mark.

  “I would love to make that trip with you.” Even if I never believed it would happen.

  “How about today? Do you have time?” He wrapped one of my curls around his finger as he looked at me with those startling blue eyes.

  “I don’t have any clothes with me remember?”

  He backed away and grabbed his cell phone from the table. “No problem. We can exchange numbers and when you get home call me and I’ll pick you up. But wear something warm. It’s cooler up in the mountains and when the sun goes down it gets much chillier on the back of the bike. Bring what you need for overnight too so we don’t have to rush. It’s better that way and I know of a cabin we can use.”

  He was talking so fast my head spun out of control. None of what he said made sense because I had no home to go back to. If I returned, the least that would happen was a rushed wedding. The worst I didn’t know. I could only imagine how angry my father was and what that might lead him to do.

  And then there was Marco. I’d gotten a glimpse of his mean streak once and I hoped to never see it again.

  “I—I can’t.”

  He stopped abruptly. “What’s wrong?”

  I brushed off his concern. “Nothing, and kind of everything. I can’t go home and change and I can’t go on a ride with you. I’m supposed to leave town today.”

  His lips tightened.

  I wanted so badly to reach out and wipe that scowl from his face. A moment ago he’d been so earnest in his desire to share his hometown with me and I’d ruined that. But what else was I supposed to do? Lie?