Ruger E-Book

Melissa Stevens

• Herausgeber: Tektime
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 400

Beschreibung

Years ago, the local drug lord’s men kidnapped and killed Ruger’s sister, now his heart is dead to everything but revenge.

Until Krissi walks into his bar. She’s sassy, sexy, and more than he can turn down. He’s already fallen too deep when she’s kidnapped. While she’s missing, Ruger’s club discovers her father killed his sister.

Could the people who took Krissi be after her father or Ruger’s club?

She’s already captured Ruger’s heart. But how can he ever trust her?

Leseprobe

RUGER

A DEMENTED SOULS NOVEL

MELISSA STEVENS

CONTENTS

Also by Melissa Stevens

Special Thanks

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

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

About the Author

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement (including infringement without monetary gain) is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, or other status is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2017 by Melissa Stevens

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever known, not known or hereafter invented, or stored in any storage or retrieval system, is forbidden and punishable by the fullest extent of the law without written permission of the author. Melissa Stevens [email protected]

Editor: Mad Spark Editing

Cover art: Sweet n’ Spicy Designs

Created with Vellum

ALSO BY MELISSA STEVENS

Books and series from Melissa Stevens

Kitsune Series:

Change

Fight

Hunt

Live

The Kitsune Collection

(with Change, Fight, Hunt and Live in one volume)

WMC Series:

Escape

Jade's Peace

Risking Alex

Demented Souls:

Ruger

City of Sin:

Released by Desire

Redeemed by Desire

Revealed by Desire

The Dragon Chronicles

(with Released by Desire, Redeemed by Desire and Revealed by Desire)

Diamond Bridal Agency:

Justin

Sean

Alex

Pelican Lake:

Steamy Days

Smoldering Sunsets

Sultry Nights

Novels:

Robin’s Nest

Choosing Happiness

To the Chrises: Chris Hemsworth, Chris Evans, Chris Pine, and Chris Pratt.

Thanks for everything. You’ve done so much for me, but we should probably keep things the way they are...The old man would be interminably jealous if you actually knew I exist.

SPECIAL THANKS

Special Thanks

To my dad, Wilmer Stephens, for helping me get some of the details right.

To Shannon K. Lessner, for helping me make this book even better. Your help has been invaluable.

CHAPTER1

Krissi stopped inside the bar door and let her eyes adjust to the dim interior. There were no windows and only a few scattered lights. Several seconds passed before she could see well enough to tell there were maybe twenty men in the shadowed room, a couple sitting at the bar but most sitting at the tables dispersed throughout the place.

From the large patches on the few men with their backs to the door, they all appeared to be the same. The patch took up most of the back of the kuttes, hooded, scythe-bearing reapers looming from behind a motorcycle, and left only enough room for top and bottom rockers that told her they were the Demented Souls. She wondered about the Demented Souls. Men wearing the patch came into the diner a time or two, but she didn’t know anything about them. It wasn’t a club name she was familiar with, but it didn’t matter much what name they went by. This was a motorcycle club hangout. The row of bikes out front hinted at but had left the possibility it was unaffiliated with a club; now, there was no doubt. The bikes were why she’d chosen this particular bar. Having grown up amid a club, even though she’d left her hometown and the trouble of her dad’s club, she missed the atmosphere. She ached with longing for the sense of family she’d felt from the very same club that she couldn’t live with anymore. Krissi had passed the bar many times—resisting the urge—before finally stopping.

The man behind the long, polished bar was tall with dark hair smoothed back into a ponytail low on his neck and multicolored tattoos spreading down both arms.

“What can I do for you?” he asked as she slid onto a cracked, red vinyl stool.

“Give me a double of Patron.”

“I gotta see your ID first, Krystal.” He shook his head and held out one hand. Krissi frowned, wondering how he knew her name. He pointed at her shirt, near her left shoulder. “Your name tag.”

“I forgot I even had it on.” Krissi pulled her identification from her pocket and slid it across the bar. He reached for the card, still watching her, and Krissi was captured for a moment by his honey-colored eyes. Light eyes with dark hair wasn’t all that common, but somehow it was perfect on his face.

Picking up her driver’s license, the bartender tilted it in the light. She knew he was not only checking her date of birth but was also looking for the hologram to make sure it wasn’t fake. It didn’t worry her. She’d used fake IDs before, but she didn’t need to anymore. This one was real. Passing the card back, he pulled a glass from behind the counter and poured the drink. He was reaching for a saltshaker and a slice of lime when she shook her head.

“Don’t need that shit.” Krissi picked up the glass and threw it back, swallowing the liquor in two long swallows. “Perfect.” The glass thumped as it hit the bar. “How about a bottle of Corona?”

The man behind the bar shook his head and pulled the beer from the cooler. “You want the lime with this one?”

“Nope.” She watched as he popped the top and set the bottle on the bar.

“That’ll be thirteen dollars.”

Krystal slid her debit card across the counter. “Start a tab.” His fingers brushed against hers as he reached for the card, and she shivered. Krissi hoped he hadn’t noticed as he turned away and put it beside the register. Picking up the bottle, she spun on her stool so she faced the rest of the bar.

Of the maybe twenty men in the room, less than a half dozen were not wearing the sleeveless leather vests typical of motorcycle clubs. Hell, even the man behind the bar wore one. He seemed to be all muscle with tattoos down his arms. Krissi wanted to watch him more closely but didn’t want to get caught doing so. Only a couple other women were in the bar, other than the waitress, and neither wore club colors. If they were connected to the club, they weren’t ol’ ladies. As she scanned the bar, Krissi noticed the few men without the patch-covered vests weren’t off on their own. Except for one, who sat at the end of the bar nursing a mug of beer, they were as scattered as the bikers and sat at tables with two or three club members.

In one corner hung a dartboard, a pair of barely-there thong panties pinned to it with several darts. Framed photos, mostly snapshots, littered much of the wall space. She was curious about them but knew better than to get up to inspect them, at least not on her first visit.

Turning the stool, she studied the place. Krissi took a long pull from the bottle in her hand as she turned back to face the bar and mirror behind it. Above the mirror hung a mangled front wheel and twisted handlebars. Someone had been in a spectacular crash. She wondered if they’d survived and how long it had taken them to recover if they had.

Krissi’s eyes went to the man behind the bar. He checked on the man at the end, filled orders for the single waitress making rounds, and kept himself busy washing dirty glasses and straightening things behind the bar in between orders. She let her eyes play down his slender but well-muscled body and found herself wondering what he looked like under the jeans she could just see the top of. Looking away, she forced herself to think about something different. She had a plan. Get her degree, though in what she wasn’t sure yet, make some decent money, and stay as far away from her father as possible. The last thing Krissi needed was to get involved with a man, much less a biker.

The bartender moved to the far end of the bar to help the patron sitting there, and Krissi used the opportunity to get a better look at him. Her eyes skimmed the bright tattoos covering the bartender’s arms again as she looked him up and down. There was nothing there that made her think this club was like her dad’s. None of his tattoos had specific meanings she’d learned from her dad’s club. No teardrops, no 1%, no gang affiliations that she recognized. Krissi had left her home to get away from the shadow of his club and didn’t want to get involved with another group like them. Not anytime soon. Not ever.

“Can I get you something else?” the bartender asked as Krissi drained the last swallow from her Corona. She suspected he’d been keeping tabs on how much she had left to time the offer. Unsure how she’d missed him watching her when she’d been watching him so closely, she shrugged.

“I don’t know.” She hesitated, checked her watch, and sighed. “Sure, one more. Then I’ve gotta go.”

“Got somewhere you’ve got to be?” He pulled the bottle from the cooler and popped the top.

“Kinda.” She met his gaze. He had warm eyes that made something deep inside her flip-flop.

“Kinda?” He lifted one brow and smiled.

Krissi shrugged again and made a face. “Homework.”

His smile spread to a grin. “Homework, huh? What are you studying?”

“I’m not sure yet.” She ran one finger over the label on the bottle in her hand, wishing she had picked a brand with a stick-on label she could pick at to give her fingers something to do. “This is my first semester. I haven’t figured out what I want to do yet.” She found herself telling him more than she should.

When she walked in, she’d just wanted a drink or two to help her unwind after work. She’d chosen Drifters because the bikers would make her feel more at home. She didn’t want to talk or tell anyone about herself. Something about this guy, though, made her chattier than she’d intended.

“I’ve never seen you in here. You new to this side of town?” the bartender asked.

“I’m new to town, period.” She couldn’t help the wry smile that curved one-half of her mouth. She might feel compelled to tell him more than she’d intended, but she wasn’t telling anyone about her dad’s club or why she’d moved so far from home.

“Oh? Where are you from?”

“Albuquerque.” There. She hadn’t lied, but she hadn’t said too much, either.

“How long you been here?”

“A few months. Long enough to find an apartment and a job.”

“And enroll in school.”

“And enroll in school.” She nodded and took another long pull from the beer in her hand.

“Have a rough day?” He seemed friendly, but she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t fishing for more.

“Nothing I can’t handle, but I can only take having my ass grabbed so many times before I need a drink.”

His eyes scanned up and down what part of her he could see over the bar. “I can understand why some would try, but you don’t seem to be the kind to put up with that. Why don’t you just slap them? Tell them hands off without permission?”

“’Cause it would cut into my tips. I have to pretend to be friendly and maybe even receptive or I get no tip—or worse, a big mess.”

“Sounds like you’re working in the wrong place.”

She looked at her half full bottle. “Maybe, but it’s what I’ve got, and I can’t quit unless I can find something else. There’s not many places willing to work around my class schedule.”

He silently watched her for a moment. “That’s quite a problem.”

“Yeah, but it’s my problem.” Krissi drained the last of the beer from her bottle. “Close me out.”

“No problem.” He turned, totaled her tab, and ran her card. “I’m not sure you should be driving, though. How do you plan to get home?”

“No worries. I’m riding the bus. There’s a stop not far from here.” She signed the ticket and tucked her card into her pocket.

“Come in any time, Krystal. We need more pretty faces like yours around.”

“I might.” She gave him one last smile and headed out the door.

The bus stop was a couple hundred feet away, so she walked over and sat down to wait the ten minutes until the next bus was scheduled to arrive. She tried to focus on her assignment due in just a few hours, but the tall bartender kept edging his way into her mind—his eyes, his voice, the corded muscles that moved under the brightly decorated skin of his arms. Krissi couldn’t help but wonder if he had more tats and what they were. The squeal of brakes brought her back to the present.

Standing, she stepped onto the bus and made her way to the first open seat and tried to pay attention. She had to keep track of the stops or she’d end up passing her apartment building. Yesterday, she’d tried reading her textbook during the ride and had ended up a mile and a half past her stop. She’d walked all the way back, her feet already aching from her shift. This time, she was determined not to let anything distract her. That walk wasn’t something she wanted to have to do again.

* * *

Ruger watched as she left, her full, round ass swaying with every step. Man, he’d like to get his hands on that. His cock ached, and for the first time since God knew how long, he knew no other piece of ass would cool the burn.

Shaking his head, Ruger went back to work. There was something about the girl, and it wasn’t the tight white shirt or nearly painted on black shorts that drew his attention. He couldn’t put his finger on it, though. He’d like to see her again, but there was no reason to believe she’d be back. Too bad he hadn’t thought to ask where she worked or get anything more than her name. Krystal Montoya, her driver’s license and credit card had said. Montoya was a common enough name, though Krystal wasn’t a common spelling. He might be able to run a check on her name, but how would he explain how he’d found her?

“Yo, bro. Give me another.” Stretch’s voice from the end of the bar broke Ruger’s thoughts. He refilled the old man’s mug and set it on the bar. “Who was she?” the old man asked before picking up the heavy glass and taking a long swallow.

“Some girl after a couple drinks,” Ruger said with a shrug.

“Bullshit, she wasn’t just some girl.” The older man set his glass down with a thump.

“What makes you think so?”

“The way she acted.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was too comfortable. Most chicks walk in here, and even on some guy’s arm, they’re nervous, unsure. She wasn’t. She walked in like she owned the place, sat down, and ordered a drink. She looked the place over as if she was making sure things were the way they’re supposed to be.”

“So?”

“So, she took in the whole place. Even that”—he jerked one thumb over his shoulder at the panties on the dartboard—“and didn’t even blink. To her, this place and all of us in it were normal. There’s something about that one. I’d keep an eye on her if I were you.”

Ruger shook his head. “She may not even come back. But if she does, I’ll be careful. Okay, old man?”

Stretch watched him a moment then nodded. “Just be careful. There’s something off about her.”

A half dozen brothers came in, stopped at the bar, and ordered drinks. Ruger went to fill their orders, but thoughts of Krystal kept creeping into his mind.

CHAPTER2

Throughout her classes the next day and her shift at the diner afterward, Krissi couldn’t keep the tattooed bartender out of her head. The memory of his deep, rumbling voice as he asked where she was from made her skin tingle. She tried not to think about him, to focus on her classes, then her job. But by the time her shift ended, she couldn’t resist the urge and had to stop at the bar again. The need to see him at least one more time was overwhelming. She didn’t have time for a relationship. Not while she worked on rebuilding her life. But what about a single night? Who would blame her for taking a little bit of pleasure where she could? Besides, while today hadn’t been as rough as the day before, she could use a drink or two before heading home.

Her shift finally ended at eight. Business had been slow, and she would have sworn she’d been on her feet for twenty hours instead of six. To add insult to injury, she had made a whopping eighteen dollars in tips. Definitely not her best day. Krissi gathered her backpack full of books and walked the two blocks to the bar. She stood for a moment after pushing the door open and stepping inside. After several seconds, she saw a tall woman who looked to be probably sixty behind the bar, not the man she’d been looking for. Her shoulders fell.

“Krystal.” That familiar, deep voice came from the other side of the room. Blinking, she turned, looking for the source. There, sitting at the table in the corner. But he wasn’t alone. She hesitated to join him. Instead, she went to the bar and slid onto the same stool she’d used the day before.

“What do you want?” The older woman’s voice was rough from years of smoking.

Krissi took a deep breath and looked at the taps. “Give me an MGD.”

“I’m gonna need ID.” The bartender looked like she expected an argument from her. Krissi just handed her driver’s license across the bar. The woman looked at it then back at her as if double-checking that the photo was really her.

“She’s good, Marge.” The deep voice was beside her now. She knew it was the man she’d hoped to see. The one she still didn’t have a name for. “I checked it good yesterday.”

Krissi turned and watched as he slid onto the stool beside her. He wore the same kutte he’d worn the day before with another white t-shirt and jeans. Without the bar in the way, she could see he wore heavy leather boots like most people wore while riding. It fit. And it didn’t help her libido. Her stomach flip-flopped and heat pooled low in her belly.

“If you say so, boss.” Marge passed Krissi’s license back and went to pour the drink.

“Boss?” Krissi asked, turning back to the man sitting beside her.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I run the place.” He stared for a moment. “Another rough day, Krystal?”

She cringed at his use of her full name. “Actually, it’s Krissi. And today wasn’t too bad, other than being slow and taking forever.” She drew the word out.

“Krissi, huh? It fits you.” He reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Krissi turned her cheek toward his hand, wanting to lean closer, but Marge set a frosty mug in front of her.

“That’ll be three dollars,” the older woman said.

“It’s on the house,” the man next to her said without breaking eye contact.

“If you say so, boss.” The old woman moved away to tend to other patrons further down the bar.

“Thank you—” Krissi picked up the glass and took a sip “—for the drink. You know who I am, but I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Ruger.”

“Ruger?” She lifted one eyebrow. “Like the gun?”

“Yep.” He sat quietly, eyes on her as if waiting for her to make the next move. She glanced around, not sure what to say. “So, if today wasn’t as bad as yesterday, and you didn’t want a drink or two to relax, why’d you come in?” He paused a moment. “I’m hoping it was to see me,” he said with a cocky grin.

Krissi pretended not to notice his grin and took a drink. “Seeing you might have been part of the reason I stopped.” She watched him through her lashes.

“Do you have plans for tonight?”

“Not really. I was going to study, but I don’t have anything that must be turned in tonight. Why?”

“I was thinking about going for a ride. Thought you might like to go.”

She took another drink while pretending to think about it. It had been months, and she missed watching the world slide by from the back of a bike.

“How do I know I can trust you?” She wasn’t worried. She carried a folding knife in her pocket and a pistol in her backpack. Krissi knew it was illegal to bring it into a bar, but where was she going to leave it? It’s not like she had a car to leave it in. She glanced around the room again. It didn’t look like any of these guys expected the cops to show up and check, either. She could see the outline of at least one pistol, and she suspected a second as she looked around the room. She returned her attention to the man beside her. With a name like Ruger, chances were good he was carrying something, too.

Ruger looked a little surprised at her question. “I’d never do anything you don’t want done.” He met her gaze. “I may not be the best guy around, but I’ve never hurt a woman. Well, not one who didn’t want it.” He grinned.

Krissi narrowed her eyes at him, letting him know she wasn’t impressed with his lip.

“All right,” she said after a moment. She tipped her glass back and took a long swallow. It was more than half gone now. “You want to leave soon?”

“Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.” Ruger looked her up and down. “The clothes will do, but do you have any better shoes? We can swing by your place so you can change if you want.”

“I’ve got a pair of boots at home.” She took another drink. “I’d like to change clothes, too, if you don’t mind. These smell like greasy food and coffee.”

“Whatever you like.” He watched as she drained her glass.

“All right, let’s go.” She set her glass on the counter with a thump, stood, and dug a couple of ones out of her pocket. Dropping them on the counter beside the empty glass, she turned back to Ruger. “What?” she asked at his surprised look.

“Nothing.” Ruger shook his head and motioned for her to precede him to the door.

* * *

Outside, Krissi found what little light there had been when she’d entered was gone. The sun had long since set, and the only light left came from the streetlights and the neon signs of storefronts. Ruger led her to a shiny black Harley. She couldn’t make out the model in the dark, but the long fork told her it was custom. She circled the bike for a moment, taking it in. She’d always thought you could tell a lot about a man from his bike. It was well cared for—custom but not flashy. This was a good sign. The chopper fork was longer than standard, but not one of those ten-foot-long jobs that screamed LOOK AT ME.

“Well, what do you think?” Ruger asked. She glanced at him and found he was watching her with one brow lifted. “Did she pass inspection?”

“She passes.”

“Tell me what you see.” He tilted his head to one side as he watched her.

She told him her thoughts then ended with, “It tells me you’re confident, secure in your place, not only in the club, but in the world.” She met his gaze and waited for his reaction.

He nodded then picked up his helmet off the seat. “Here, I only have the one with me, so you wear it.” He held it out toward her.

“Trusting to leave it unsecured.” She took it and slipped it over her head, fastening and fitting it with practiced ease.

“No one would touch it here. People know who we are and not to mess with our shit.” He swung one leg over the bike. “So where do you live?”

She gave him the address and waited while he kicked the bike to life. When he was ready, she climbed on behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso. He pulled out onto the street, and she was glad her borrowed helmet didn’t have a facemask. The wind on her face and the rumble of the bike between her legs made all her troubles slide from her mind. What replaced them were thoughts of the thickly muscled thighs her own were wrapped around and the taut stomach beneath her hands.

* * *

As they moved through the city, the bike roaring down streets and rumbling content at traffic lights, Krissi caught hints of the scent of leather, soap, and a warm musk that made heat build low in her belly. In less than twenty minutes, Ruger pulled into the parking area in front of her apartment. It was faster than taking the bus, but she knew it would be. She would like a car but didn’t have the money for one.

Right now, Krissi was saving every extra penny she could to cover her tuition and books until she earned her degree. She really shouldn’t have spent the money at the bar yesterday, much less stopped again today, but she’d needed a break. And today’s drink hadn’t cost her anything but a tip. She didn’t often indulge, so once in a while wasn’t a huge expense. Now, climbing off the back of Ruger’s bike, she was glad she’d spent the money. She hesitated to invite him inside while she changed but didn’t want to be rude.

He seemed to sense her hesitation. “Why don’t you go change? I’ll wait here.”

“You sure?” she asked, pulling off the helmet.

“Go.” He smiled. “Just don’t leave me waiting too long.”

She handed him the helmet then headed toward the stairs at the end of the building, taking them two at a time. From the walkway at the top, she waved at him before unlocking her door and ducking inside. The apartment was a tiny studio, but it was cheap and all she needed. In the small closet, she grabbed her favorite pair of jeans, a tank top, and her boots. Not bothering with the bathroom, she changed right there, tossing her uniform over a nearby chair then pulling a leather jacket from a hanger near the back of the closet. It was a little warm for the jacket but wouldn’t be once they were moving. Plus, leather was good protection should something happen.

Krissi hadn’t worn the jacket since she’d gotten to Tucson. She hadn’t wanted to. Now, though, it was perfect, no matter the memories attached. She’d make new memories—better ones.

Shrugging into the coat, she tucked her ID, some cash, and her keys into the inside pocket and headed back outside. She’d been inside less than five minutes. Locking the door on her way out, she turned and looked down at where she’d left Ruger. He sat sideways on the bike, looking comfortable and relaxed. Krissi froze for several seconds, just staring down at him. Several strands of hair had blown loose in the wind, and they made her want to see it all down. Her hands ached to run through it and see if it was as soft as it looked. His long legs stretched in front of him, crossing at the ankles as he looked around, noticing everything that moved. As if sensing her eyes on him, Ruger looked up at where she stood. Her heart skipped a beat, and she started moving again. Krissi wondered for a moment if he was going to be pissed she’d taken so long, like her father or any of his men would be. She went to the steps and hurried down. Krissi couldn’t wait to get back on the bike and on the road.

Ruger turned as she stepped off the stairs and watched her as she walked toward him. She saw his eyes skim down her body then back up again, and her heart felt like it was going to jump out of her chest and hop away, but it didn’t. Krissi fought the urge to giggle like an idiot, biting the inside of her lip to keep her mouth shut.

“Oh, you changed everything. That was fast. It’s also a lot better for a ride.” He handed her the helmet and climbed back onto the bike while she settled it onto her head and tightened the chinstrap. Ruger’s eyes skimmed her again. “You might want to close the jacket.” He kick-started the bike.

Krissi looked down and thought about zipping the coat, but decided Ruger would block the worst of what was coming from the front and left it. Ruger jerked his head, letting her know he was ready for her to get on. Once she was seated, he walked the bike back out of the parking space, and they roared from the lot.

* * *

Ruger couldn’t remember the last time he’d liked a girl enough to let her on the back of his bike for more than a quick ride home. But for some reason, he wanted Krissi there. He liked the feel of her behind him, her arms around him as the wind beat through is hair. The rumble of the bike beneath him made him happy and peaceful, and after a few minutes, they were on their way out of town. He wanted to show Krissi something. She said she’d only recently moved to the area, and since she was riding the bus, he was fairly certain she hadn’t seen this yet.

He took a familiar road but resisted the urge to push past the speed limit. It was dark, and the road could be tricky even in the daylight. The last thing he wanted was to frighten Krissi, so he played it safe. After a few minutes, he could tell she was no novice at riding on the back of a bike. She hadn’t said much about her past, and he didn’t know where she’d learned to ride so well, but she leaned into the turns as of it was second nature. Her arms held on but not tight enough to make him think she was scared, and they never tightened, no matter how low they leaned on a turn. She moved with him as if they’d been riding together for years.

Ruger wasn’t sure how long they’d been riding when he found the spot he was after. He pulled off the highway into a parking area and killed the engine. Krissi moved smoothly as she climbed off the seat and walked around the area, stretching her legs as she took off the helmet.

“Wow.” She stopped in her tracks, her gaze glued to the lights scattered beneath them. Climbing off the bike, Ruger stepped up behind her, close enough to feel the heat of her body, but stopped short of touching her. Reaching down, he lifted the helmet from her hand and hung it by the chinstrap on one handlebar of the bike.

“You said you were new around here. I thought it was a pretty safe bet you’d not been up here yet.”

“Where are we?” Krissi’s voice was soft, as if she didn’t want to disturb the quiet night.

“Mt. Lemmon.”

“That’s the one on the northeast side of town, right?”

“Yeah.”

They stood in silence for a few minutes before Krissi turned to face him. He felt her hands against his chest then sliding to the side. He took her wrist and slid her hand down to his waist before she got to the pistol that hung under his left arm. He slid his hand along her arm to the elbow then around her back. Tilting his head down, he met hers as she stretched up toward him.

“This is beautiful. Thank you,” she breathed out just before her mouth met his. Her lips brushed against his, sending sparks of heat through him. Krissi grew bolder, and her lips parted beneath his as his arm not around her waist came up to cup her cheek. Her fingers curled against his lower back and her arms tightened around him. Ruger slipped one leg between her thighs. Krissi groaned and arched against him. Ruger felt her nipples tighten into tight beads against his chest. His breath caught, and heart sped. Her light scent reminded him of small purple flowers. His tongue dueled with hers as they stood in the night, wrapped up in each other.

A brisk wind blew down their collars, sending a shiver through Krissi. Ruger pulled back and gazed down at her with passion-filled eyes. He tried to catch his breath as he caught the glint of light in her dark eyes.

“Cold?”

“Not really.” She looked over her shoulder at the city below and bit her lip, making Ruger wonder what she was thinking. “But why don’t we head back to town. I’d like to get you somewhere more comfortable.” She turned her attention back to him, her lips parted, and Ruger wanted to kiss her again but held back. His dick stirred and his jeans were suddenly tighter. He liked the idea that she might want to take what they’d been doing here back to town.

“You wanna go to Drifters or back to your place?”

“We could go to the bar for a while. A little dancing might be fun.” She wrapped her arm around his waist and laid her head against his chest. He looked down at her. Usually, he didn’t want his pussy to get too attached, but he liked the feel of her against him. They climbed back on the bike and made their way down the mountain.

* * *

Krissi wondered again if she was doing the right thing as Ruger pulled the bike to a stop in front of the bar. She knew getting involved with another motorcycle club wasn’t the best idea. But one night wasn’t involved, was it? After he stopped, Krissi dismounted and stood to one side as he walked the bike backward into position with the others then climbed off. She handed him the helmet, which he put back on the seat where it had been. He dropped one hand on the small of her back and guided her inside.

The bar looked like an entirely different place. The atmosphere hadn’t changed, but the crowd had. Someone had turned up the jukebox. Now rock music blasted through the place while half-dressed women wandered around, dancing between tables and over some of the men. If she hadn’t grown up around a motorcycle club, she would have thought this was a strip club. But this was tame compared to what she’d seen since she was old enough to sneak away from whoever had babysitting duty. She’d had a full education before she’d turned thirteen.

Glancing around the bar, Krissi found an empty table near the back and headed in that direction.

Ruger bent low and asked in her ear, “What do you want to drink?”

“Whatever.” She shrugged, squeezing his hand before leaving him beside the bar and going to the table. She’d sat down and was waiting for Ruger to join her when a man sat down beside her. Tattoos snaked up his neck and covered the backs of his hands.

He leaned in close. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Krissi glanced at him. He looked a few years older than Ruger. He grinned at her as he waited for her to say something. She didn’t bother. Instead, she turned and looked for Ruger. He was headed in her direction, a scowl marring his forehead. It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t frowning at her.

Ruger got to the table, set a mug down in front of her, and looked at the other man. “Shove off, Sadist.”

Krissi turned and looked at the man who’d invited himself to sit beside her.

“I don’t know.” He grinned. “She’s pretty cute. I think she likes me.”

It took Krissi a moment to realize that they were friends and the new guy, Sadist, if she’d heard right, was teasing Ruger. She looked back to Ruger. He hooked one foot on the leg of a chair and dragged it back so he could sit. Once he was seated, Krissi scooted her chair closer to him—close enough he could drop one arm along the back of her seat, lean down, and give her a deep kiss. He was staking a claim, and at least for now, she didn’t mind. Once Ruger pulled away, she took a drink—MGD like she’d ordered earlier—and looked across the table at the other man.

“Sadist, huh? Do I want to ask?”

Sadist grinned. “I make my living hurting people. And I enjoy it.”

“Hurting people?”

“Sadist is a tattoo artist,” Ruger said next to her ear, his voice low and breathy. Krissi took a closer look at the tattoos covering his arms and hands. They were well done and well thought out. It wasn’t just a jumble of unrelated images.

“Oh, nice.” She let her eyes skim his arms again. “You do any of your own?”

“A couple pieces, but nothing recently.” His eyes skimmed down her body. “You got any art?”

“No. I’ve never found anything I like well enough to wear for the rest of my life.”

“Well, when you do, I’d love to get my needle into you.” He gave her a lascivious look. Ruger growled.

“Like I said, shove off, Sadist.” The other man just laughed.

He looked her up and down then spoke. “So, where you from?”

“Not here,” Ruger said, keeping his answer short. Ruger seemed to be getting annoyed but not angry

“No shit.” Sadist looked at him for just a second then turned back to Krissi. “You walked in here and didn’t bat an eye at all this.” He made a sweeping gesture with one hand. “You’re not from around here, but you’ve seen this before.” He spoke like he was sure.

“I’ve spent some time around a club before.” She shrugged one shoulder.

Sadist leaned to one side and looked her up and down. “You don’t look like fender fluff.”

Krissi narrowed her eyes at Ruger’s friend and considered how to respond. The man had just called her a whore who chased bikers. “That’s your one freebie, and I only allow it because you don’t know me. Insult me again, and you’ll find yourself on your ass. And don’t think I can’t just because you’re bigger. I know my limitations, and I don’t fight fair.” Sadist leaned back in his chair and watched her for several seconds but let the subject drop.

* * *

They stayed in the bar for about an hour with Ruger occasionally pulling her to her feet, using the excuse of a dance to get her away from Sadist and hold her close. After the second time he dragged her to the tiny open space he was using for a dance floor, he pulled her down on his lap instead of letting her have her own chair. She leaned down and kissed him again briefly, as she was aware of everyone around her and didn’t want to be insulted again tonight. His hand rested on her knee, and Krissi was intensely aware of his heat seeping through her jeans. It didn’t take an hour for Krissi to be ready to move on. She dropped one hand to his leg beside her ass and let her hand skim up his leg, stopping just short of his crotch. He looked down at her, and she grinned. “Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

It annoyed Ruger when he turned from getting drinks for Krissi and himself and found Sadist sitting next to her. Ruger had no doubt his friend had seen them come in together and was being a pain in the ass. Frowning at the other man, he went to the table. The bastard didn’t even notice Ruger’s disapproval, though, because he was too busy grinning at Krissi. When he reached the table, Ruger set Krissi’s drink in front of her.

“Shove off, Sadist,” he said. Krissi turned her attention to Ruger as he came up beside her.

“I don’t know.” The grin on Sadist’s face let Ruger know he was playing and finding himself extremely amusing. “She’s pretty cute. I think she likes me.”

Ruger used one foot to pull a chair away from the table so he could sit. Once he was seated, Krissi scooted her chair closer to his. Ruger waited until she was settled again then lowered his mouth to hers for a hard kiss. He only did it to stake a claim, but she didn’t seem to mind. Sadist met his gaze and nodded once. Satisfaction spread through him as his friend had told him he wouldn’t be poaching, at least not until Ruger decided he was done. He would stop others from trying, too. Not that Ruger thought Krissi was the kind to be a club whore and be passed around from brother to brother.

He left his arm along the back of her chair while Krissi talked to Sadist for a bit. He put things in here and there, but he was paying as much attention to the rest of the room as he was to the pair at his table. It looked like a typical evening in Drifters. A couple of the club whores were going to have to be warned about lap dances in the bar. If they wanted to act like strippers, that was fine, but they should keep it in the clubhouse. He didn’t want to put his liquor license at risk. Since they were customers and not employees, he should be okay, but all it would take was one uptight inspector to shut him down.

The crowd that nearly filled Drifters was mostly club members and prospects, a few hangers on, and a couple people who lived in the area that spent most of their time in the bar. It became apparent that Sadist had no intention of letting them be, so Ruger stood and led Krissi onto the makeshift dance floor to get a little more one on one time with her. When he refilled Krissi’s drink, he grabbed himself a bottle of water. He had no intention of taking her to the room he kept in the clubhouse next door, and he never got on the road, whether behind the wheel or on his bike, after more than a single drink. He’d seen too many men, good and bad, die that way.

After the last dance, instead of letting her go back to her own chair, he pulled her down onto his lap. She wiggled several times, as if not entirely comfortable. He left his hand on her knee as they continued to chat with Sadist, and he was acutely aware of the heat of her body through the denim she wore. Krissi shifted on his knee again, and her hand came to rest on his thigh beside where she sat. After a moment, her hand began inching up his leg, ever so slowly at first, then a little faster. Her fingers drew abstract designs on his jeans as they made their way closer to his cock. He was rock hard by the time she stopped and turned to him. She glanced down at her hand, still in his lap, and grinned.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said.

It was all Ruger could do not to jump to his feet and fling his chair across the room with the momentum. He glanced across the table at Sadist and saw the amused glint in his eye. Sadist knew what was going on.

Ruger dropped a light kiss on the tip of Krissi’s nose. “Sure.” He stood, shifting in his jeans as he went. “I’ll catch you later,” he said to Sadist then put his hand on Krissi’s back and followed her out. At his bike, he handed her his helmet. “You have classes or work in the morning?”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, so no classes. And I happen to have tomorrow off. Why?” She manipulated the strap under her chin effortlessly.

“I just wanted to know if we should go to your place or mine.”

“Don’t I get a say?” She blinked up at him, her words challenging but not her tone.

“You already had your say when you all but felt me up in there.” He lowered his head to cover her mouth in another deep kiss. Breaking away, he got on his bike and started it. “Come on.” Ruger waited while she climbed on behind him then kicked the bike into motion and they took off into the night.

CHAPTER3

The familiar trip seemed to take three times what it should have, but soon Ruger slowed and pulled into his driveway. He hit a button he’d fastened to the handlebars and waited while the garage door opened then eased the bike in, parking beside his pickup as the garage door lowered behind them. After killing the engine, he waited for Krissi to dismount then climbed off himself. She handed him the helmet. He put it on the seat and turned to look at her. She looked nervous. He bent and gave her a quick kiss to distract her.

“Come on in. I’ll show you around.” What Ruger wanted to do was throw her over his shoulder, carry her inside, toss her on the bed, and screw her brains out, but she wasn’t quite ready for that.

He unlocked the door to the house and led her inside.

“This is the laundry room. Not the most inviting room to start off with, but it’s necessary. Besides, I’m not parking my bike outside.” He waited for her to come inside before locking the door to the garage then leading her through the door to the next room. “This is the kitchen. I’m not much for cooking, so you might not find much to eat. There’s beer and sodas in the fridge. Help yourself.” He shrugged out of his kutte and took her jacket, leaving them draped across the kitchen table.