CHAPTER THREE

“Sometimes all it takes is an eggplant." - Preacher.

 

 

“I don’t think I’ve seen a motherfucker crash and burn so hard so fast. Until now. My boy has a new record. I mean for a second there we all thought she was gonna drop kick you over the bar, brutal shit.” Laughed Grinder, jostling Preacher by the shoulder. The rejected in question only smiled as his boys laughed their fucking asses off at his expense. Because he knew something they didn’t, he saw how Ruby had sucked in a breath when they were inches apart, the way her pupils dilated to cover all that chocolate brown of her irises, her tits heaved to keep up with her shallow breathing, not to mention she eye-fucked him on the sly so often he got dick ache from not vaulting the bar and rutting her right there.

He got it.

He had a reputation, one he didn’t give a crap about. He liked sex on the regular, it was one of his stabilizers for the fucking PTSD the military doctors diagnosed him with a few years ago, if he was orgasming he wasn’t having sweat inducing night terrors, if he was so sex exhausted he could forget he watched his big brother blown the fuck apart right in front of his eyes.

So, Preacher didn’t apologize for his sexual habits, not when it was that and his club keeping him sane. His reputation preceded him and it had never bothered him.

Until it did.

And he was one of those men that if you said he couldn’t have something all he wanted was the thing he couldn’t have. He licked around his teeth, eyeballing Ruby as she went about her job pretending to ignore him sitting here.

I see you, baby, yeah that’s right, you look your fill.

In any case, now he wanted her he wouldn’t quit until he had her taste in his mouth, down his throat, coating his fucking belly as she came and came screaming out his name. He had the urge to do her nasty ways, spurting his come over her cocoa skin, marking her. The fucking boulder of need burning in his belly only grew bigger.

Only for Ruby, it wouldn’t be a fast hook up in a bathroom stall or alleyway.

She was a bed and sheets lady. When he got the chance to go down on her he promised himself he’d wipe his beard afterward.

“Plenty of pussy for you back at the club, bro.”

“Hm.” He chimed half-heartedly back to Grinder.

She should never have said no like that, not when her darling little body contradicted her. Preacher would have accepted her no and walked on. No harm no foul. His dick would have recovered the rejection in time.

Pointy little nipples did not lie.

He sat around the table for most of the night, drinking, passing the time with his boys, friends dropping by. “Where the fuck is Rider, anyway?” One asked.

“He said Zara was feeling flu’y. I'm telling ya, man-cards can be revoked. He actually said just like that. Flu'y. Florence Nightendick stayed home to take care of her.”

The boys sniggered knowing their prez had caught the feels bad for his queen. “Translation they’re probably going at it like wild boar again. I can think of no better medicine, am I right?”

Preacher could understand why Rider would be at home. He’d got the good pussy; his old lady was nuts for him. His own dick twitched watching Ruby glide up and down the bar serving, chatting, laughing with people.

Another hour, being tortured by a tease, he slapped hands with his boys who left to head to their homes. “Let me guess, you’re sticking around to strike out again?” Nothing but amusement laced his best buddy's voice. Only a few stragglers were left at the bar now, almost closing time. He neither denied nor confirmed.  “You know you can get laid back at the club, hell, click your fingers, Preach, and five bitches will fall at your feet with their mouths open.”

Preacher’s tongue wanted a particular flavor. And if he didn’t try again he’d always wonder.

He slid out of the booth, cuffed Grinder around the shoulder. “Get out to the truck, bro.“ The designated driver prospect waited outside to taxi everyone home.

Grinder, a tall man, with a thick dark beard and a straight slash of darker hair on top of his head swayed in his biker boots, his breath ripe with alcohol flashed a wide grin Preacher’s way and grabbed him in a bear hug.  His voice slurred a little. “Really fucking glad you’re back, man. You’re doing good, yeah?” Preacher knew what he was asking. He nodded briefly. “Good, bro. Really fucking glad. Listen, you and me we’ll make a night of it at the party, yeah? Got some nice new groupies been coming around. Missed you, bro. Club wasn’t the same without you,” another headlock hug, Preacher detangled and laughed shoving Grinder towards the door. “Get the fuck home before you wanna start kissing me.”

He went to take a piss. When he came back the bar was empty and Ruby was clearing off a table singing along to Elton John’s Tiny Dancer. Hips going in all enticing directions. He didn’t know what hypnotic vibe she was putting out, but his dick wanted to reply. For a good minute, he watched her dance as she took away glasses, using the vantage point of the small hallway near the bathrooms to get a good eye on her.

Man, even casually she could move.

His thoughts were downright disgusting at this point.

She came to a startled halt seeing him. “What the hell. You scared me. We’re closed, Preacher.”

“I was in the head. But I couldn’t miss the floor show, tiny dancer. Real nice.” He winked and had the pleasure of seeing her embarrassed.

He pushed off the wall, boots, and wallet-chain clanking as he walked, he hooked up his leather jacket sliding it on. It was now or never, and Preacher wasn’t a man to give up.

“What about that party next weekend, Ruby? It’ll be fun.”

“Thanks, but no. I’m probably working. I need to get more shifts here while I look for a new job.”

His brows folded in. “You’re leaving the bar?”

“Not if I can help it,” she dumped a tray of empties on the bar. “But Otis can’t pay me more and I need the money.”

Well damn. Otis’ bar and grill without Ruby. That was Steak without A1.

“Come to the party, all the more reason for it, let loose for a while.”

Was that temptation on her face as she glanced over? He smiled trying a charm attack.

Working for pussy. This was new.

And before he could stop himself he was standing directly in front of her, making her crane her neck to look up. “Come to the party, Ruby. I want you there.”

Before she could give him an answer the door at the front crashed open, three of his boys barrelled in laughing and swaying as they advanced in, without thinking he moved her behind him.

“Forgot my damn wallet,” announced Snake in a loud boom, he trudged his feet over to where they’d been most of the night and found what he was looking for, giving Preacher two thumbs up gesture. Fucking subtle, brother.

For a second he’d been protective, of what? His boys seeing him about to lock lips with a woman? They’d seen him do worse.

His shoulders crept up with tension. His jaw taut.

Losing his shit over a woman. Had the world spun too fast on its axis and he'd lost his damn mind?

“What in the hell was that? I don’t need to hide behind you, dude.” She tried to shove Preacher out of the way, he just held an arm around her slim waist.

He wasn’t pleased about that shit, either. This was just about a hook-up, not marking his territory from his friends of all people. Not like any of them showed signs in sniffing around her.  

He might have had to punch them.  

Those randy boneheads he loved could sniff elsewhere.

 

 

 

******

 

 

 

She scowled at him. What in the hell had that been, shoving her behind him like he expected the big bad ogres to gobble her up? The man was crazy. She’d seen worse than a few drunks before. "I have perfectly good working legs, Preacher man. You all but threw me over your shoulder, frightened I might smile at your buddies? god, forbid. You can relax, I don't go with bikers."

His entire body swerved. A mass of muscle towering over her, keeping her locked into the side of the bar. "Is that so, beautiful?" His voice said he was about to prove her wrong. She blew out a gusty sigh and waited for it, the glint of his green eyes backed up his unspoken claim.

Why did she keep saying these things, she already pegged he was competitive?

"No, I take it back. I want to do them all. Line them all for me." she clapped like he was her manservant. Preacher laughed, the noise had the desired effect and tingled between her legs. "I'll start with the handsome blonde one in the blue T-shirt, he looked like a Hollywood movie star researching a role; When bikers go rogue. A smash hit for 2018."

He brought his stare to hers. His mouth curved with the hint of a grin. "Pretty-boy will like that if I ever told him, which I'm not."

"You’re saying he’s a forbidden bad boy? don't you know what that means to a woman? you did it now, he's looking damn good suddenly, move out of my way, let me go work my feminine wiles on mister Hollywood." she joked but he towered in her path stopping her from moving.

His head came down so they were eye-to-eye.

How could he look like a straight up axe-murderer and an underwear model at the same time? by rights he shouldn't appeal to her, he wasn't classically beautiful, his face had white scars, skin tanned from too much sun and he had lines under his eyes like he wasn't sleeping much, but, Jesus in heaven, he appealed on that primary most obvious level of she was so attracted to this man.

And that pissed her off.

Bikers were off limits.

Dangerous men were a no-go.

And Preacher, the notorious thinks with his dick man, he was all the bad decisions a woman could ever make and a lifetime of regret all wrapped up in a six foot six rock hard package.

He didn’t get the earlier message, not from the way he moved staring hungrily at her mouth, eyes glinting. One finger reached out, he gave her enough time to reject the touch, he really did. Ruby, stunned, braced to be touched by him. And when it came, a stroke down her cheekbone, subtle, barely there and over in a second she let go of the air trapped in her nervous lungs.

"Don't you feel it, beautiful, when we touch, doesn't it shift something in you?"

Woah.

He stepped further into her space sucking all the oxygen out of the atmosphere.

"Dammit, Preacher. You can't say that."

"You don't know how badly I want to fuck your mouth with mine."

"I don't even like you..." Weak. Lame. Lies. It was all she had to offer because she feared if given the choice right then and there she’d spend her rent money on one kiss. Just to see how good it would be.

"Then, you better throw out a protest while you can, because I'm three seconds away and you're reaching up on your toes..."

Was she?

Fuck. She was. Too late. His mouth crashed down on hers, swallowing her gasp, taking the moment of her surprise to slip his tongue inside.

After that, any feeble attempt at a protest died with his amazing taste filling her mouth, corralling her in its web and enticing her to fuck his mouth back.

She did. Oh, god, she did.

Hot grabby kisses. Kisses to stain her soul.

Preacher was a good foot taller than her, Ruby was encased by him, helped along by the grip on the top of her arms pulling her higher on her toes so he could take more of her lips, she helped sucking on his lower one until he grunted, arms wound around his shoulders doing some of her own dragging.

Just this.

Just a little more.

Allowing herself to ride the intoxicated sensation until her blood fizzled threatening to explode like a volcano. She was crazy assuming he wouldn't be good at kissing.

The man was a kissing master.

Making her crave like never before. It was a throb.

A desperate ache began in her belly, blooming outwards, reaching all corners and god, he pushed her into the bar and if it was possible he kissed her deeper, all tongue and teeth working in tandem until her body was a ball of hormones controlled solely by him.

"Preacher. Wait … wait. Hold it."

"No. Kiss me." He groaned licking over her tongue.

Oh god. Yes. That.

She loved French kissing. Ooh la fucking la. If it was done right and some men needed to go back to square one, what with the thrusting and the slurping. Preacher was a damn tongue maestro.

Hard. Slow. Going in and out just how she guessed he wanted to fuck her.

When they parted, it was only because air had become a necessary need. His hands bracketed her neck, holding her steady, his mouth taking nips. He was a ravenous male, pouring all that abundant energy through his lips for her.

He invaded her mouth with a forcefulness that was completely out of line and yet she leaned into him, opened her lips and moaned the second his tongue was in contact with hers. It was an odd sensation, a stirring in her belly, like excitement and dread all mashed into one amalgamation of lust. He didn't give her time to think before he swooped and plundered and how sexy was that, the tiny part of her that is submissive and wants to be dominated takes over, grabs his shirt and she enjoyed the kiss of the century.

It suggested forbidden.

It should be wrong.

He's everything she'd avoided and should continue to swerve. She'd seen him casually screw countless women for god's sake, recognizes clearly, he's trying to make her number nine billion in that list.

She couldn't stop kissing him. His mouth was skilled, moving this way, that way, dipping to deepen, backing off to nibble, but always keeping strong contact. Her lips were swollen.

Kiss swelled by Preacher. Now there's a poster slogan.

There was a trip wire connected to the pulsing erogenous zones on her body and they grew hotter, more insistent, clamoring for sex. Her tongue stroked deep.

Ruby went on kissing him, her fingers clutched the front of his shirt, he was so damn tall her neck was almost broken with the awkward angle, his taste; explosive, strong, masculine with a hint of mint in the background, he tasted so damn good she practically purred for more of his tongue stroking her teeth, he laughed against her lips. It wasn’t only her mouth that felt the impact, it hit her square in the chest, her midsection closing in, feeling too tight, too hot, too everything.

He grunted and took her mouth like he owned it.

The sound, sexy as hell.

Her core clenched hard enough she nearly orgasmed right there. His fingers trailed to the base of her spine where she was sensitive, not many men knew that about her, but he seemed to hone in on that spot, drawing circles, making her melt into a feline purr against his tongue.

She'd thought kissing a man with a beard would be unappealing.

It was the complete opposite. He kept his goatee part of his facial hair trimmed close to the skin, and it was silky soft as though he tended to it like a garden.

The man was sexy as the devil himself.

The devil.

Devil. Kyle.

Fuck. A dreaded boulder blasted her chest.

A bucket of figurative water over her head she wrenched away, making a gurgled disgusted noise, her hand going to her mouth to wash him away.

How could she have gotten so carried away like that after she swore she was not getting involved with men and especially men like him ever again.

The kind of man who just takes you over.

Ruby was done with that.

“Not how I wanted our first kiss to end, Rubes.” He was breathing like he’d been running for days. Seeing the lust clear in those hooded eyes flashing at her. He wants her and for a crazy second when she wasn’t thinking at all, she wanted him, too. So, fucking much, heat walloped through her spine, how long had it been since she was wanted in that way?

Crazy. For fuck's sake.

"Did I make you all wet and worked up, Ruby?" lips brushed and it brought her out of her sexually inducing bubble, using a hand she pushed his chest.

His eyes were amazing. Dark pools of emerald.

Full of sex and want.

"You think a lot of your technique if you assume I'm easy enough to be turned on that quick by a few lip smacks. It’s my constitutional right to kiss and stop kissing who I want, pal." She tried to sound sarcastic, really, she did, only it came out breathy.

Not buying it he smirked. "Let me check and I'll lick my soaked fingers clean afterward."

"Inappropriate." Skin heated. Thank god for her mother's Dominican heritage that there were no outward signs of her blushing. Except, maybe he’d made her a jittery wreck with a few dirty words. Dirty words she’d loved.

"Has it turned you on? Tell me and I'll stop asking how wet your pussy is."

"Christ. Stop. You have diarrhoea of the mouth, Preacher. I let you kiss me. Now goodnight, I gotta close the bar. We mortals like to sleep."

She knew what he tasted like now. If only she could have gone the rest of her life and not known that little detail, the feel of his lips remained even putting space between them.

And her pussy twanged. Damp and wanting.

For a devil, he tasted pretty much like how she imagines heaven is; Perfect.

Damn him.

He didn’t respond, just stared at her with wet lips. The wetness from her mouth.

“Do you feel better now you got that out of the way? You can move on to your waitress crew.”

“No. I feel worse.”

Her eyes narrowed. Offended. Not that she wanted him to love kissing her, it wasn’t that, she insisted vehemently, but no woman wants her kisses to be repulsive.

She had to ask. “My kiss made you sick?”

“Yes. You should do it again and give me the cure.”

Ruby wouldn't grin. “Nice try. Now get gone.”

Preacher laughed and dipped down as if to kiss her. She braced waiting for those lips again. Her eyes fluttered. And the big bastard whispered instead. “Come to the party. I’ll give you all the kisses you could ever want, beautiful.”

Her narrowed eyes watched his retreating broad back until he’d left.

Bastard. Definitely not going anywhere near that Renegade Souls party.

Nope. Never.

A second later.

What would she even wear?

 

 

 

She had Preacher on the brain.

The filthy manwhore knew how to kiss.

Ruby really needed to hate him. Or just not to desire him, because frankly, thank you cheap red wine, for the drunk honesty, that biker was bad news and she'd had all the bad news she could swallow. He could take his Momoa voice and his thick dick and just … stand far over there, so she couldn’t smell him. So much bad news.

How much could one person take in a lifetime and not go stark raving mad?

Her parents. Bad news. Her sister. Bad news. Ex-boyfriend's epic bad news. Community college, waste of time. Most every job she'd ever had bad news in one form or another, and not to forget the cherry on the shittiest of life sundae so far, the creepo el-creepo guy from the cabin.

Ruby shuddered and swallowed the last of the boxed wine she'd had in the fridge. The less thought about him the better because she was in two minds whether to believe it happened or she had had one of her rape fantasies again.

Yep, she was one of those women. With a drunken grimace, she toasted the empty room. "To perverts." It wasn't though she wanted to be raped for real, she wasn't that shitfaced. She'd seen that BDSM movie, hated the books, loved Jamie Dornan, she liked the idea of forced play, of dominance, of someone holding her down and taking what he wanted from her body, all with her permission.

What happened at the mountain cabin had been ... had been ... she'd done a good deed for a stranger and paid for it. But it wasn’t just revulsion and humiliation that she felt. There was something even worse underneath it all that plagued her if she dared let it in.

Something ugly but undeniable.

You got off on it.

"Not by fucking choice," she said aloud. Her body in starvation mode would eat its own muscle fat, similar in survival mode, it had reacted without her mind engaged.

It didn't count.

It didn't.

It wasn’t one of her consensual rape fantasises, she hadn’t asked him to be callous and cruel, that man had taken something not given freely because he was a predator.

Picture her telling that to her next boyfriend, just what any relationship needed. She snorted, took another big gulp, the inexpensive wine tasted like paint but it had a forty percent alcohol, whatever got her drunk fastest for cheapest was a win in her frugal book.

Preacher man.

Why couldn't she stop thinking of that big lothario?

He fucked anything walking. So, it was no compliment he wanted to fuck her now. "Probably gone through every woman twice over." She rolled her eyes. And now she was tagged in.

Now there was a pervert.

I bet he'd give you anything sexual you wanted. A little-wicked voice whispered, the same dark voice that held all her secrets.

I just bet he would.

She bet he fucked the same way he kissed. With force and purpose, he’d sucked on her top lip until it was fat with blood. What did his climax taste like? How soft and demanding were his lips in the throes? Questions barraged her mind, all questions she had no fucking business thinking of, but there they were.

Preacher appeared to be the kind of man who would be down for anything.

She'd seen him screw a girl once, out in the parking lot between two cars, the girl moaning like a banshee in heat, Preacher had barely made a sound as Ruby halted by her car, transfixed by the motion of his hips pounding the girl from behind, his big hands resting on the top of someone's car as he'd given the woman a good seeing to.

It couldn't have lasted more than a few minutes, a fast fuck, and once he'd gone inside the bar, leaving the woman to drive off after telling him how good it was, Ruby was left dumbfounded, keys in hand, forgetting she had been about to go home, her breath chopped in and out, flushed, and ... fuck ... she'd been so aroused.

Looking at Preacher after that hadn't been the same, she avoided serving him as much as possible, watched him secretly when he was unaware, her gaze hungry just for a glance even against her own logic, usually when he was sat at a table with his boys, saw more than once him going into the bathroom with one of the bar waitresses, the same result, the girl would come out all glassy eyed and smiles, a softness in her hips as she swayed for the rest of the evening. Ruby told herself it could be drugs they were sharing, but there was nothing narcotic about the guy as he walked out of the bathrooms, nope, he looked like he'd just got fucked, loose in the torso, his gait all sexual, he walked fluidly for a big guy.

He was such bad news and she needed to stay away from him.

She would. Draining the last dregs from the already empty box of wine she trudged off to bed. Even drunk she was responsible knowing she had to get up early tomorrow.

Dreams of kissing a hot possessive biker plagued her.

 

 

Several nights later Ruby woke to the sound of rain pattering against the window in her bedroom, she groaned and wished for more time, just an hour would do to catch up on much-needed sleep. No luck there.

Nor was the job front. She’d scoured every want ad in town, each one was a bust, she couldn’t even get a part-time job as a pot washer at Jake’s wine and dine. Now that was just depressing, too qualified to wash fucking dishes. Shoot her now.

She didn’t have fragile feelings, but that stung.

She could wash the hell out of those dishes. And for ten dollars an hour, they would have been sparkling. Bastards.

Another day and no closer to that extra pay check and rent was due, plus the direct payment she had set up with Rita’s bank would bounce if she didn’t replace the money in the next week. Sorry, sissy, I needed groceries, you know, those things to help me live.  Rita wouldn’t understand. As much as she loved her baby half-sister she was about as entitled as they came, if she saw past the end of her own nose it would be a miracle. It came to a point you had to stop blaming your shitty upbringing for the self-centred human being you were and take responsibility for how you treated people. It was never Rita’s fault, rather than her environment, or her very long list of boyfriends who all treated her appallingly.

Both sisters were a product of their environment and yet it was only Ruby who gave a fuck about not trampling on her goddamn family in order to get her own way.

Burrowing her head into the warm pillow with a blustery sigh. She needed to see Sebastian. She could make things right in her mind if she could see him.

What with finding a new job, she had to push it down her list of things to do.

But Sebastian was never far from her mind. It was her reason for everything. It was why she tried so hard, pushed herself and placed her trust in people who didn’t deserve it.

Trust was a beautiful myth. You get fed enough lies to choke a horse it all becomes white noise along the way, the loch ness monster and the abominable snowman, something you raise a brow to but ultimately don't drink the Kool-Aid. Trust was a thing of the past for Ruby. Stupid people sucking her dry. I’ll pay you back, Ruby. I’m sorry it won’t happen again, Ruby. It’s the last time, Ruby. All fucking lies, and because she was a family pleaser, wanting to keep the peace, she let them walk their lies into her life even when it choked her.

Pander. Coddle. Enable.

And repeat.

She was a fricking pushover and knew it. But what could she do? Let her sister get kicked out of her place? See her starving in a shelter somewhere? If she didn’t help Rita, who would? Not that dumb freeloader boyfriend of hers. Dwayne was more interested in scoring weed that he was about putting food on the table. Why would he need to worry about that when idiot Ruby was always an open wallet? Rita called and cried for money, Ruby sent her it. Those two were onto a good thing.

But for all the lies forced down Ruby’s throat, her most lethal were I love you. She was a person who needed to be needed, she wasn’t ashamed of that, it was just part of her makeup, her mother was the same way before the booze and drugs took over, she equated neediness with love. And her family took advantage of that. Rita, anyway.

Her brother not so much, but they had a weird relationship ever since the father they shared went to prison, she hadn’t been in contact in forever, her brother told Ruby a million times to scrape off the users once and for all. And when she hadn’t, well it was clear her brother had done some scraping of his own. Oh, well.

Besides, he wasn’t related to Rita, her brother would never allow blackmail in his life. he was likely to shoot first and not ask questions later.

Trust was something fluid.

And so was time management, apparently.  How in the crap was she always running late, no matter when she set her clock for? Okay, so she liked to snooze it six or seven times, but who didn't? and why invent a snooze button if it wasn’t to use?

Ruby lived a poor lifestyle, but always knew she was made to be a lady of leisure.

And only sometimes during this week was spent thinking about Preacher and that hot kiss. Fricking wicked kissing manwhore.

Her heart picking up speed whenever she saw the distinctive black and white emblem on the back of a leather jacket. But he’d never come back into the bar that week.

He’d obviously taken her brush off. Good. That was good.

She still thought about him far too much for her own liking. So, what, he could kiss well, so could a million other men who were far better suited to Ruby.

No bikers. No outlaws and definitely no one who was even remotely attracted to danger.

She was aiming for an easy life, not one spent with her anxiety in her throat.

Pushing that deadly monster out of her mind she rolled herself out of bed, cursing the air as blue as she felt, the chill in the air made her walk faster through her four-room apartment. The thing was no bigger than a shoebox and cost more than Buckingham palace probably, but as of now, it was still hers. Next month when it came to paying the rent, it might not be.

Ruby flipped on the coffee maker, its familiar gurgle of water working through its system something she looked forward to, so sad really, while she quickly showered, and slipped into jeans and a long sleeve Wonder Woman shirt, wearing minimal makeup, she clipped her hair back at her nape to keep it tidy and out of face. Frizzy curls were the bane of her life, but some mornings she just couldn’t face taming it with a flat iron.

“I’m finding a new job today,” she said with conviction. “Or a fucking sugar daddy with one foot in his grave and a dick that doesn’t work.”

Joking aside, where the hell was Hugh Hefner?

The universe took one giant piss on Ruby a bit later stepping out into the rain and finding her car wouldn’t start.

Not just dead. But may it rest in peace.

“Thanks a lot, God. I knew you hated me. I miss several hundred Sunday services and this is how you get even, thanks a bunch.” She wouldn’t cry. Tears were for the weak and those who had time to squeeze out a tear, and the moment Ruby declared herself weak she might as well lie down in the dirt and die alongside her car. She popped the hood, slid out, slamming the door with force. No goddamn idea what she was looking at as she poked and twiddled things in the engine, for all she knew she was making it a thousand times worse. “Why won’t you work, you piece of crummy crud? Don't I give you the good gas?” Rain soaked her already frizzing hair. Great. Seriously. Great.

Her apartment block located on a nearby main road leading into town. Not ideal for noise pollution and the odd road rage accident, but it was cheap; her favorite word.

“Is everything okay down there, Ruby?” She looked up to the apartment on the right. Mrs. Kenner leaning over the balcony in her bright pink housecoat. She was the oldest resident in the block, with a mane of shocking purple hair in a tight perm, and had eight cats at the last count. Ruby saw her future when she looked at sweet old Mrs. Kenner. She waved, rain pelting her in the face. “I’m fine, Mrs. K. Just my car decided she needed a nap.”

“Oh dear. Well, get yourself back inside, dearest, it’s coming down an awful lot.”

Mmhm. I know, I’m standing in it.  

It was as if the universe kept tossing these shitty things in her path and Ruby, dumb as a rock, picked them up. Ohh, for me? thank you.

With three prospective jobs to inquire about before her shift began in a few hours, Ruby was up that proverbial shit creek. She didn’t know what to do.

And then.

A roar of a million engines turned the corner, she swerved out from under the hood of her car, not like she knew what the hell she was looking for, as far as she could see all was connected as it should be. She expected her second-hand mint green Toyota Sienna 2009 to last a while longer, at least until the end of the year when her finances would hopefully be staggering back to their feet, but sure she was about to hold a funeral service for the old girl. Kicking the tire, she ignored the procession of Renegade Souls motorcycles speeding by. Only the noise of their engines didn’t disappear into the distance, they grew closer, she turned again, to see the bike in front doing a U-turn in the middle of the fucking road. Crazy ass. Stupid bikers thinking they owned the town. Only they kind of did. At least, they had their illegal fingers in most businesses, not that she took much notice, but people in the bar talked when they were drunk. Half of the town adored the RS MC and the other half, well, they were never complimentary but scared with their harsh bitching.

An angry man always spoke the truth when he was drunk.  Rider and his crew had a lot of secret enemies out there, if he wasn’t already aware.

The bike in front, a huge beast of a thing headed back this way, she frowned as it pulled into the carport, each bike following suit until all ten of them parked in front of her. Preacher, that giant appealing monster, pulled in closest, if she didn’t already know it was him, the tightness in her breasts would have been a clue.

“Hey, Ruby.” Called one of them and she squinted to see it was Jed. She flashed him a grin. For an old guy in his seventies he was still pretty cute. “Hi, Jed. You should get out of this rain, only idiots come out in this.” He laughed and agreed.

“Having car troubles, beautiful?” That sandpaper-rough voice grated over her nerve endings sending fire between her legs. She refused to let him see he affected her.

“It’s dead.”

“Let me take a look at it.” He threw a leg over his bike and climbed off, taking two steps towards her, pushing his whole body under the hood, she shuffled back out of his way, saw ten pairs of eyes all grinning at her. Lord, if she was into bikers they sure would be affecting her underwear, all decked out in leather, denim and naughty smirks.

The clean scent of Preacher hunched over her girlie green car drew her attention. “I told you, she’s dead.”

“Maybe. I can have one of the boys take a look back at the shop.”

“No. That’s...no that’s okay.” Embarrassed to say she didn’t have the cash for that. “I can do without it for now.”

“Ruby, let me have a look. Do you need to be somewhere?” His gaze swept down her, landed on her heeled boots and came back up her body much slower until she felt like he'd touched every nook and cranny. She swallowed.

“Just a few jobs I was considering and I have to go into work in a while.” Whittling her lip, she hated relying on anyone and here she was about to let Preacher step in and help her. “Look, it’s fine, thanks for stopping but---”

“Yo, G. Call into the shop and get a pick up here asap. You got the keys, Ruby?”

He was wearing a bandana under his helmet, his black leather jacket zipped right to the chin, he looked like the proverbial bad boy. As always, his beard was styled in a tight point. No frizz for him, bastard. She reached up and ran a hand down her wet hair, the rain only spitting finely now.  He smiled and her brows fell. She needed to tell him she had no money for a repair job.

“I don’t need it fixed, Preacher. Thanks.”

“What, you’re going to drive a broken car?” His gorgeous mouth split in a devastating smile that affected every corner of her body.

“It's not how you stand by your car, it's how you race your car.” She huffed. He was a guy, she waited for him to get the connection. She only saw his eyebrow flick up. “Huh? Wasn’t thinking of racing it.“

Ruby laughed, feeling her spine relax.

“Fast and the fucking Furious, right?” Laughed Grinder chiming in.

“See, this one knows his good movies.” She sent the man sat leaning into his handlebars with his beanie hat in exchange of his bike helmet a killer watt grin. She liked people who could get movie quotes, her kind of people.  

“I can give you a ride to wherever you need to be.” He offered, sweeping the smile right off her cheeks. Get on the back of his bike … with him? Having to hold his waist? Ruby scoffed internally. Not unless she wanted to play ‘tease my vagina’ by being all up on that. Which she did not.

“I got it, thanks.” She went around to the driver's side, locked up and handed him the keys. “When will I know the time of death?”

He snickered showing full even white teeth. “Give me your number and I’ll let you know the verdict in a couple hours once I’ve had time to get under her.”

The way he said it. Under her. Had Ruby shivering and thinking not very polite things. All sex things. Dirty naughty sex things.

“Ruby? Number.”

Oh yeah. She took a minute to program his into her phone and sent him an emoji as a test text. Preacher laughed. “An eggplant? Now, babe, if you wanted my dick you only had to say.” His chest brushed up against her shoulder as he held out his phone for her to see she had sent him the fucking dick emoji. Not her fault it was the first one in her most recently used. She shrugged. “You look like an eggplant kind of guy, Preacher man.”

“I can be, depending on who is asking. Are you asking, beautiful?” That mouth came down to her ear, a voice thick as syrup rasped causing her to shiver. “Ask me.”

Had she really got herself caught up in flirting about an emoji dick? Jeez. Desperate times and all that. Preacher hummed and for a wild second she was going to ask him for the dick.

Just to borrow it for an hour, maybe two. Three tops.

The trundle noise of the Renegade Souls pickup truck stopped that conversation dead, thank god. She moved out from under his arm, crossed her own over her chest and watched while her car was loaded up on the bed of the truck.

What she took from this whole shitty last hour was; she now had Preacher’s phone number in her cell. And he had hers.

She would … most probably … not send any sexts.