I usually went with my gut when it came to important decisions in life, and hiring Ronnie was one of the best decisions I’d made. She worked with a marketing company creating a new hot logo for Hardcore Cycles. She promoted my business with a new sign that hung above the front entrance outside and stocked the shop with printed T-shirts, and other things to attract customers to come in and take a look around.
It was the perfect day for throwing an open house event at Hardcore Cycles. Ronnie met me early, and she was drop-dead gorgeous, wearing tight-ass jeans and a very low-cut, purple tank top. Some days it was rough to be around Ronnie. Sometimes she stood a bit too close to me, and I could smell her hair or the faint perfume she wore. Then I’d sport a hard-on, having to walk away and find something to busy my mind with at the shop.
Ronnie organized a bikini bike wash with six of her women friends, including her roommate Heather and coworker Patti clad in skimpy bikinis. The women sprayed each other with water hoses and were covered in soapy suds and laughed, which was very entertaining for gawking bikers waiting to get their bikes washed. It looked like something out of a sexy music video in front of Hardcore Cycles.
The smell of smoked barbecue and hamburgers wafted through the air as local vendors set up tents in the parking lot, selling everything that attracted bikers—from helmets and small bike parts, to clothing and jewelry. A local band that used to play at the Frisco Cantina offered to play live as long as we paid them. Skully rode in with a few of his brothers in the Chaos Kings MC, along with a few other local clubs, and by noon, the lot was full.
Ronnie looked a bit nervous and tense that afternoon as if she were waiting for someone. Then I saw him and knew it was her ex-boyfriend, Wayde. He rolled in on an old shovelhead and parked not too far from the group of Chaos Kings’ bikes. He was tall and lanky, wearing his long hair in a braid. Once he climbed off, he headed straight into the shop. I followed close behind.
The asshole walked up to a couple who were talking to Ronnie as she stood behind the counter. He shoved the man, leaned over the counter, and fisted Ronnie’s tank top with both hands jerking her toward him.
An automatic reflex and my Smith & Wesson 357 was pulled, the end of the barrel pressed against the back of the man’s right earlobe. A woman screamed. Ronnie’s eyes went wide with both fear and shock.
“Take your fucking hands off her.”
The man let her go, raised his hands and chuckled.
“Turn around,” I growled, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
He turned, and I pushed the end of the barrel to his forehead. His eyes moved rapidly, his pupils dilated. His pale complexion and the shadows under his eyes told me he was high as fuck on meth.
I kept my eyes on him, my gun steady. “You okay, Ronnie?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He shrugged his shoulders. “The gash is more trouble than she’s worth, asshole.”
I lowered my gun and fisted the front of his cut. “You comin’ in here was a stupid move motherfucker. You ever touch her again, you’re dead. Now get your filthy ass off my property!” I snarled, shoving him.
He stumbled backward as I leveled my gun back to his face. He turned and left, and I followed him outside. I lowered my gun, and as people watched, he climbed back on his bike and rode away.
Ronnie stood close behind me as I watched him ride away. “Wayde?”
She placed her hand on my shoulder. “Yes. He’s out of control and will not stop…until he hurts me…”
I turned to her. She was white, her eyes wide. I tilted her chin up. “That’s not going to happen. I’ll handle it.” And brushed my lips over hers.
Skully walked over to me. “That douche have a beef with you, Torque?”
I wrapped my arm around Ronnie. “No man. He touched Ronnie and almost got a bullet in his head.”
The open house was a huge success, thanks to Ronnie. But the fear in Ronnie’s eyes was like a punch in the gut. I finally admitted to myself that I was in love with her. It was hard at times to be so close to her every day and staying as professional as I could. And after what happened to her that afternoon, I already had plans to take care of this Wayde situation.
The biker community was tight-knit, whether you were a diamond club or not. Meth heads were very predictable, and I knew Wayde would try and find a way to get to Ronnie again. I wanted to make Wayde disappear, like dead-disappear.
That night after the open house, I told Ronnie to pack some clothes, that she and Heather were to stay at my house for a few days until I solved this Wayde problem.
She argued with me, walking around the shop straightening things out. “You’ve already done way too much for me, Torque. I’m already so poor I can’t pay attention!”
“You will do as I tell you!”
“Don’t boss me!”
She wouldn’t stand still—making me dizzy—so I pulled her to me. “I will boss you! Goddamnit, I care about you, Ronnie!
She pressed her small hands to my chest, but I held her still and captured her lips, forcing my tongue into her sweet mouth. She struggled a bit, which only got my dick hard again. I held her firm, and she relaxed, molding close to me and moaned.
She tasted so sweet as I pressed her soft body closer to me, nipping at her pouty bottom lip and growled, “Are you going to do as I tell you?”
“Uh-huh,” she breathed, her eyes glossed over with desire.
