Sexy Bastards Anthology: Bad Boy, Biker, Alpha, Motorcycle Club, Contemporary Romance Collection (53 page)

Chapter Four

Kim

“Damn,” I muttered to myself, trying one of the silver keys for the second time. There were nearly a dozen of them on the keychain, and I only had use for three of them. That was my problem. I had a tendency to be sentimental, so I had hung on to several old, unusable keys over the years. That resulted in not being able to immediately get into my goddamned apartment most of the time.

I stopped my frantic clawing at the door and took in a long breath. It was stress. That’s why I was borderline freaking out. That’s why my hands were shaking almost uncontrollably.

Actually, it wasn’t stress. It was grief. It was time to face the music. I was grieving, and I shouldn’t have gone to class that evening.

Too bad I had.

Honestly, what else could I have done? It wasn’t as if there was any point for me to stay at home alone. I’d probably have had a meltdown. There was no place to go or people to grieve with either. My mother was an only child who mostly kept to herself, her parents were dead, and I was her only child too. The only living relative I had now was him. Jake Banner. Lawbreaker, biker gang member, roughneck, badass and mostly absentee father. There was no way I was going to see him to share in the pain of losing Mom. I hadn’t been to his place in years, and I had no intention of stepping foot there ever again.

I hadn’t told anyone at college about the call I’d gotten that morning either. I hadn’t told anyone that my mother, the person I’d been closest to in the whole wide world, was now dead.

Probably murdered.

Instead, I’d gone about my day like it was any other, picking up my books and going to Pharmacology and Pathophysiology classes, and even made it through three hours of studying at the medical library afterward, as if losing her was no big deal.

Of course it was. I was just numb, and now, the emotion was coming to a head. In fact I wouldn’t have been pressing my forehead against the front door of my ground floor apartment right now, crying in the dark because I couldn’t find the right key, if I hadn’t just been through the worst day of my life.

“Ugh!” I yelled, pounding my fist against the peeling wood. The tears were red hot fire, blinding me as it seeped out of my closed eyelids and trailed down my cheeks.

I fumbled in my pocket for my phone, thinking about calling my friend Bethany and asking her to come over. She was my best friend, but I really didn’t want her to see me break down. I couldn’t even imagine keeping it together long enough to tell her to come over on the phone without sobbing my eyes out. Bethany had seen me at some low moments, including breakups, disappointments over campus job losses and the odd bad test grade. This personal catastrophe felt too heavy and abysmal. I wasn’t ready to share it with anyone else.

I gave up reaching for the phone and just let the tears flow down my chin, against my neck and either to the floor or the top my shoes, depending on how powerful each sob came. The world had been flipped upside down in one day and I was suffocating under the weight of it. With each breath I took, it became harder to think.

A few minutes later, the roar of motorcycles interrupted the pity party.

I didn’t even bother wiping my face. Every ounce of energy allotted for that day had already been consumed on campus while I pretended that things were fine. The charade had gotten old. Whoever was riding up could see me just as I was.

My heart did a little jump in my chest and a lump formed in my throat when I turned around.

Bikers.

Badass bikers.

Dangerous-looking badass biker.

Fuck me.

A bunch of hardened bikers were riding up my quiet, suburban, off-campus cul-de-sac. Although the authorities ruled the collision Mom was in as an accident, my father insisted she was murdered by a rival gang, and that they could be coming for me next. If it was that gang riding up my street, what was I supposed to do? I had no means to fight them off or escape, and dammit I couldn’t find the right freaking key to the front door of my street-level apartment.

I froze when they slowed down and parked in the free space behind my Ford sedan, but a wave of relief went through me when I saw their badges, clear even in the dim street light.

Rugged Angels.

Dad’s motorcycle club.

Their arrival wasn’t totally welcome, of course, but at least they didn’t show up here with intent to kill. There were five of them, and the one who had parked closest to the walkway climbed off his Harley while the others waited on their rides. This guy approaching me was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair that was buzzed short. Stubble dotted his jaw, and his face was somber, but even in my distressed state, my hormones reacted.

“Kim?” he asked, pronouncing my name in a gravelly tone that had me near fixated on his lips.

I cleared my throat, rubbed the tears off my face with the back of one hand, and sniffed. “Who’s asking?”

God, that sounded pathetic. I couldn’t even begin to try and act tough.

“Kane Angelo. I’m President of the club now.”

He stepped closer, stopping only about a yard away while behind him his cronies stepped off their bikes and surveyed the area around them.

“How can I help you, Mr. Angelo?”

“You’re in danger,” Mr. President continued. “You need to come with us.”

“No thanks,” I replied simply, turning my chin up to look him straight in the eyes. A few strands of my hair had gotten stuck to my wet cheek, and I did my best to look noble as I tucked the blonde strand back into place.

“This is serious. I can’t leave here without you.”

“And I just told you I’m not going. It sounds like we have a problem, Mr. Angelo.”

He looked back at his crew for a moment then turned to me again. “Why are you fighting this… why so resistant?”

I laughed but there was anger rising in my chest. “Why am I so
resistant
?” I hissed. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because my father is the reason my mother is dead. How about that? You and your reckless motorcycle club are to blame, and while I’m at it, all you people have ever done is bring hell and hardship to my mother’s life... and now mine. How’s that for a reason?”

He looked at me for a moment, the silence stretching between us as his hazel eyes stared me down, trying to read me. I stood stoically, not willing to give in, not in the slightest. I think I threw him off with that reply. He had nothing to say, and knowing I’d one upped him felt good in a really sadistic way. I was hurting, so I figured, why not lash out and make a few people miserable while I was at it.

Silently, he reached a hand into one side of his cut. I heard a zipper slide along, and then he pulled out a small object. As he opened his hand to display what he was holding my entire body jerked.

“That’s my dad’s. My mom and I picked that out for him. I didn’t know…” The words came out croaked, in a voice that was strange and shaky.

“Your old man wanted me to show this to you. You need to trust me. We need to leave now.”

“God, he held on to it for all this time?” I was still mesmerized by the pendant.

“Get inside and pack some things.” This time there was an edge to his tone that startled me.

“No,” I rebuffed.

Confusion flashed across his face. “This is crazy.”

“Look. I’m not crazy, okay. I won’t be any safer with you people. You guys attract trouble.”

“What you said right there is…look it’s fucked up okay? You have no idea what’s coming your way. No one else can protect you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I snapped. “I already spoke to my father this morning, and last night, and yesterday. There’s nothing that you can do or show me that will make a difference. I’m. Not. Going. Get it? I can manage fine on my own.”

“He gave me this to show you because you’re in danger, Kim. This isn’t a joke.”

“Says you.”

Running a frustrated and pissed off hand through his buzz cut, he spat out, “Your dad’s been shot.”

I bit my tongue. Shit. That shut me up real fast, until I asked, “Is he…” I couldn’t even say the words. My throat seized up just thinking about it.

“Your old man is alive. He’s hurt bad, but he’ll live.”

Now I was out of snappy things to say. If they got to my father, getting to me was going to be a breeze. Crap. The sexy, mean-looking guy standing in front of me was right. I could barely get my apartment door open or function. How was I supposed to defend myself from a gang of gun-toting Rugged Angels rivals?

Fuck.

Admitting I was wrong was damned hard.

“Fine,” I grumbled.

He gave a satisfied nod. “Good. You have ten minutes to pack a bag or two before we get going.” He looked back at his men again, then back up the street. “It’s not safe here. This place is too wide open.”

I turned my back to him, finally picking the key that opened the front door. Before I stepped inside he put his arm up in front of me so I couldn’t go in.

What the hell?

“Hold on. What are you doing?” I sputtered.

“We’re coming in there with you while you pack.”

“What, so that I don’t run away?”

“Something like that. We need to check the apartment before you go in there too.”

I groaned and pointed to the switch to turn on the living room light, making space for him to enter in front of me. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Big Tom, Kyle,” he called out in the direction of his crew. “Check out the apartment.”

I crossed my arms and snorted. What kind of a name was Big Tom, anyway? Mind you, one of the two men that approached looked like a close to seven foot walking wall of muscle and danger. He must have been Big Tom.

Once the bikers searched the tiny one bedroom and confirmed no one was lurking around waiting to off me, Kane gave me the go-ahead. Stomping my way into my bedroom, I grabbed the duffel bag from underneath my bed and began jamming clothes in it.

“No,” Kane said gruffly. “Not that. Find something smaller.”

I turned to him. “What?”

“That bag. It’s not going to fit on the bike. Don’t you have anything smaller?”

“Whoever said anything about going with you on anyone’s bike? I’m taking my car.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Says you,” I answered, turning to continue filling my duffel bag.

He looked around the room for a second, and picked up a small backpack hanging on a hook behind my bedroom door. “Here. Use this.”

I ignored him and continued what I was doing. In no time, he was standing beside me, reaching his hand into the open drawer. He picked up a pair of jeans. “I got your pants. Which drawers have your tops and underwear? Assuming you wear any.”

I just looked up at him. “Really?”

“What?”

I dropped the duffel bag and dragged the backpack out of his hand. “Don’t touch my things.”

“Look. You’re wasting precious time, Kim, but you don’t have to understand. You just have to do what I tell you, and do it fast. Got it?”

I opened the drawer or folded t-shirts and tank tops and mumbled, “Whatever.”

Kane stepped back to the door, and after a minute of welcome silence, he said, “Nice room.”

In my periphery I noticed his gaze roving over the free-standing Chinese partition screen in the corner, and the white lights strung around the window. He nodded over at a picture of my mom and me that was stuck into the edge of the wardrobe’s mirror. “Is that her?”

“Yes.” The word was thick and hard to get out past the tightness that formed in my throat.

“No pictures of your old man?”

“What do you care?” I snapped. “It’s none of your business anyway.”

He was silent for a while, but then added, “I’m sorry about what happened to your mother.”

I kept my gaze on the clothes. I knew it would help if I just said ‘thank you’ and left it at that. The problem with that was I’d have had to admit she was really gone. I couldn’t. The loss was too recent. The wound was wide open. I said nothing.

“So you just don’t like bikers, huh? Is that it?”

“Actually, yes. That’s exactly it. God, you’re chatty, aren’t you?”

I grabbed several shirts and jammed them in the bag. I was trying not to show how scared I was. After my dad had phoned me to tell me I wasn’t safe, I had considered leaving town. Fury got the best of my fear, and in my anger with him, I convinced myself I could handle it. No way was some biker drama pushing me out of my life. I was in my last year of nursing school and I couldn’t just drop out and let years of work go down the drain.

Now this Kane guy was telling me I needed to go if I wanted to stay alive. My father was shot. I had no choice. I had to trust these men, but I didn’t have to like it. Especially not Kane, with that self-assured, domineering attitude he had when he walked up to my front door. He seemed confident to the point of cocky, the same biker machismo and arrogance my mother left behind. Hell, that alone was reason to despise him.

My hands swept over a hot pink shirt stuffed into the back corner of the drawer, and I almost cheered out loud at the discovery.