Sentinel - Devil Riders MC Book 1 (MC Romance Novel with FREE Bonus Novel!) (2 page)

She got into her old Honda and pulled away quickly. She drove off into the night, leaving her old home and her parents behind her. Her old life behind her.

****

CHAPTER ONE

CHRISSY

Chrissy finished applying her makeup, and then looked in the mirror and took a deep breath. She didn’t know why she bothered, really. The job wasn’t worth it, and the clientele certainly weren’t worth it—but if she looked good she’d be able to hold her head up high.

She checked her watch. It was almost 6pm, which meant it was time to go. She glanced around her little apartment to make sure that she had everything, and then headed for the door, locking the deadbolt behind her. Some of the other units in this building had been broken into recently, and she didn’t want to be the next. It was in a less than salubrious neighborhood, but it was all she could afford.

As she hurried down the steps to the parking lot, Chrissy ran through her mental to-do list for the next day. She had classes starting at 9am, and then tutoring in the afternoon. At the thought of the tutoring, her heart sank. Her student, Justin Willbanks, was not someone she would normally voluntarily spend any time with. Wealthy, entitled and lazy, he was the epitome of the spoiled rich kid who had had everything in life handed to him on a platter. Not only did he have a bad attitude, he reminded her unpleasantly of Benny Ashcroft. She sometimes wished she could meet a really nice rich kid, just so she could balance her perspective on how people reacted to money.

She had originally taken Justin on as a student because he’d made her some promises: He’d agreed to work with her, study hard, and generally put in the effort it would take to improve his grades. She’d started off with some hope, but right from the first day she’d known in her heart that he didn’t mean to keep his word. He didn’t like having to work for anything. She found that sad. He was smart enough that if he’d been willing to work he could’ve done it easily. As things developed, she learned that he expected Chrissy to do his homework for him while he lounged around and leered at her, asked inappropriate questions, and tried his damnedest to get her to go on a date with him.

The idea repulsed her—she’d rather go out with a serial killer, and even told him so. Even that didn’t stop him. She sensed that he was so accustomed to getting his own way that her turning him down made getting a date with her an irresistible challenge for him. She was a goal to be conquered.

She’d never give him the satisfaction.

Besides, she had a strong hunch that his idea of a first date wasn’t strictly dinner and dancing. He’d want to take her to the best restaurant and nightclub, and then he’d expect her to put out to show her gratitude. It was not her idea of romance.

She didn’t even like him. She tried to compromise, to find a balance. She bent her rules a bit, doing some of his homework and trying to encourage him to study. She let him think she would like him better if he tried a bit.

The truth was that she needed the money. She was paying her own way through college and not only had to make her living expenses, but save up enough each quarter to cover tuition, rent, books… everything she needed for the next term. She had nobody to rely on but herself, so she had to make sacrifices. If she had to put on a brave face and work with him… he paid well over the going rate, and would continue to as long as his grades remained good enough for him to stay in school. Some days she was able to maintain the balance and let herself think it would work out. Other days, Justin Willbanks could be a complete asshole, and she’d leave their sessions determined never to talk to him again.

Chrissy arrived at her old car and climbed in. She crossed her fingers and turned the key, letting out a sigh when it started. Her destination was Riggs, a truck-stop cafe on the I-95 where she worked nights as a waitress. As far as jobs she actually qualified for went, she was lucky to have it, she supposed, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Her manager, Dick, was a blowhard asshole who seemed to make it his life’s mission to live up to his name. He acted as if he was a rooster in a henhouse, strutting around thinking that all the girls were daydreaming about him.

The place itself, Riggs, held no charm—old and greasy, and in desperate need of renovations, it was sort of a truck-stop classic in a perverse way. Those things weren’t a problem for Chrissy, she could deal with shabby and even dirty. What sucked about the job was the kind of people who hung out there. Calling them customers was an exaggeration, since many just bought enough coffee to keep from being thrown out. Some were long-haul truckers, or said they were, but when she saw them spending hours in the cafe, doing little more than talking and trying to cop a feel from the waitresses, she had to believe they weren’t doing a job that paid by the mile.

Chrissy wasn’t one to stereotype, at least she tried not to, and some of the regulars were sweethearts. More often than not, though, the truckers who ate there were grabby lecherous pigs who viewed a young waitress as a piece of meat to be ogled and drooled over. Chrissy shivered at the thought as she drove along the interstate.

You need this job, she thought to herself. Just deal with it until you’ve graduated.

With a deep sigh she pulled into Riggs’ scruffy old parking lot, parked up, and sat there for a couple moments, sinking into the comfy and well-worn seat and steeling herself for the night to come. Sometimes it was quiet - maybe tonight would be one of those.

However, as it turned out, that particular night was going to be anything but quiet…

* * * *

The evening got off to a bad start. Chrissy was a few minutes late, and the moment she walked in the door, Dick was in her face, complaining as if it was important.

“Every fuckin’ night you’re late, Chrissy. Tell me why I shouldn’t just fire you and hire someone who can turn up on time?”

He said this with his hands on his hips, a smug grin on his jowly face.

“Dick,” Chrissy sighed, “look around. The place is empty. It’s
always
empty when I start my shift. What does it matter that I’m a few minutes late?”

He scoffed.

“Well I don’t know how things go over at that college you study at, but out here in the real world you gotta be on time. You’re ‘sposed to start at six thirty, like I put on the schedule. I put six thirty on the schedule, I want you here at six thirty sharp.”

She took a moment to study him. Dick was pushing his mid-fifties, fat, balding, and the furthest he’d managed to get in life was as a shift-manager of this dive. He basked in what little power he had, and truth be told, Chrissy only put up with his shit because she felt kinda sorry for him. Behind his puffed-up self-importance was a man who had never achieved much, and took that resentment out on those around him. It didn’t help things to fight with him, and maybe being nicer would do some good.

“OK then, Dick. I’ll do my best to be right on time from now on.”

He rolled his eyes to show his disbelief and then waddled back into his office muttering to himself. Chrissy busied herself with mopping the linoleum floor, humming softly. She was planning out her next school assignment in her mind when she was distracted by the sound of the door opening. She straightened up, turned, and fixed a smile on her face.

“Welcome to Riggs, take a seat anywhere you like and I’ll be right with you.”

The words rolled off of Chrissy’s tongue with well-practiced ease. The new arrivals were truckers, judging from their appearance. Slightly disheveled and unshaven, the taller of the two of them eyed Chrissy. He looked at her hungrily and unashamedly. She forced herself not to shudder at his unwanted stares, and went to fetch her notepad and pen. When she returned, they’d settled into a booth and were sitting, leaning forward and muttering to each other with low voices.

When she approached their table, they immediately stopped talking and both turned to face her.

“What can I getcha, guys?”

The shorter one didn’t even look at the menu, or at Chrissy.

“Double cheeseburger, fries, coke.”

His voice was thin and reedy, and something about him just creeped her out, though she did her best not to show it.

“Comin’ right up.”

The taller one took his time, making a show of browsing the menu while also leering at Chrissy.

“Hmmm, don’t know what I want,” he rasped. “Got any recommendations, sweetheart?”

Chrissy bit back her frustration with him, and forced a sweet smile onto her face.

“Well, our special today is lasagna, how about that?”

He hemmed and hawwed before shaking his head again. When he looked up at her this time, his eyes were full of unashamed lust. The idea that he was probably trying to picture her naked made Chrissy’s skin crawl. She doubted he cared what he ate and he probably had the menu memorized anyway. Most of the truckers stopped there every few days because the food was cheap and it was easy to get on and off the freeway.

“I’ve got a hankering for something fresh and sweet,” he said. “What you got up under that little skirt of yours, huh? I think that’s where I’ll find what I want.”

He reached out to her, but Chrissy slapped his hand away before he could touch her.

“Keep your goddamn hands to yourself, you ape,” she hissed. “Now are you gonna order some food? If you aren’t buying anything, you’re gonna have to leave.”

A cloud passed over the trucker’s features, and his eyes narrowed in fury.

“Get me a fucking cheeseburger and coke, then, frigid bitch.” He shook his head. “What the fuck’s your problem? I’m just havin’ a little fun and you gotta take it all serious, like.”

Chrissy ignored him and wrote down the order. “I’ll get your order in.” Then she left the two men at the table, the talkative one still muttering under his breath and shooting dark looks her way. She knew that she had scuppered any chance of getting a tip from them, but somehow she didn’t think that they were the generous-tipping types even with waitresses who didn’t mind their shit.

It was guys like this that wore her down, made the job a struggle. They thought that they were somehow entitled to make passes at her, to touch her, just because she was serving them their food. Normally she didn’t react so angrily, but today she just didn’t have the patience for it. Not after Justin’s crap.

She handed the order slip over to Dick through the little hatch, who glanced at it and then nodded over at the truckers.

“What happened over there? That one guy don’t look like he’s too pleased with you for some reason.”

Chrissy just waved her hand in dismissal.

“Nothing. The guy was just being a lecherous asshole and I told him where to shove it.”

Dick shook his head angrily.

“Why you always gotta rub these guys up the wrong way, huh? Just laugh it off like the other girls do. The truckers like to think they’re hot shit and you should be flattered.”

Chrissy laughed bitterly.

“Well I’m not the other girls, Dick. And if I don’t want greasy asshole truckers pawing at me, then I’m damn well gonna tell them so.”

She turned away to end the conversation before she said something that she would regret.

Luckily for her, a distraction arrived in the form of a new group of customers. The door swung open and in came another group of men. Hard, tough-looking men with scowls on their faces that told everyone looking that they weren’t to be messed with.

Bikers.

They weren’t regulars, but guys like them came in from time to time. Truck stops were an attraction for the various gangs that operated in the area. They looked like rough guys, although they seemed to prefer to say they belonged to a ‘motorcycle club’ rather than a biker gang. Ironically, on average they were no trouble at all. Generally, they were respectful, even cheerful, and tipped well. But that all changed if a rival gang came in. Then, things could get hairy pretty quickly. A couple of times, Dick had called the cops. But even then, they were only dangerous to each other. The real scuffle took place in the parking lot. All you needed to do was stay out of the way, and it was interesting to watch. It did tend to screw up business though.

Luckily on this night, it seemed as if this group were all from the same gang, club, whatever. For now, anyway.

There were six or seven of them in all, but the last guy to come in was the only one to really catch Chrissy’s attention.

He was tall, really tall. He must have been at least six foot three, broad-shouldered, with big brawny arms covered in an intricate web of tattoos. His dark hair was long, and tied back in a ponytail, but the thing that really drew Chrissy’s attention were his eyes. He glanced at her and they flashed, meeting and capturing hers for a brief moment. She’d never believed in the power of looks exchanged across a room before, and wrote it off as the stuff of cheap romance novels. But that was before he’d looked into hers and she saw them shimmering—they were a brilliant emerald green and stunned her. The crow’s-feet wrinkles around their edges told her that he was somebody who was quick to smile and laugh.