Their Protector: An MC Outlaw Halloween Romance Page 3

  "Hey there," says a man dressed in jeans and a motorcycle jacket, looking strangely out of place compared to the costumes that Riley, Jensen and I are wearing.

  I think he's nodding at them, or me, but I can't really tell without my glasses or contacts on. From what I can tell though, he's the hottest guy I've ever seen.

  "Brynn, come out here and meet my friend," Jensen says. "Don't be rude."

  "Honey!" Riley protests, but then laughs. "She's just a little shy..."

  It's not that, I want to tell her. I just happen to have only one eyelash covered in spider- lash mascara.

  And I don't want to be set up with anyone in a motorcycle club. Especially someone who's not even wearing a costume for a costume party, I think, as I put my glasses on.

  But I forget that thought almost as soon as I think it. Because now I can clearly see what I'd already thought was true. This "motorcycle man" is the hottest guy I've ever seen.

  Chapter 4 – Brynn

  After a few seconds that feel like years, in which I unsuccessfully try to compose myself, I finally decide to come out of the bathroom. It's not like I can stay in here all night. Plus, the door’s open, so he can see that I’m in here— it’s not like I’m successfully hiding.

  And damn, Jensen's friend is fine. I just need to get a closer look at him, and I'll get it out of my system.

  At least that's what I tell myself as I approach him. But even getting a little closer to him makes me want to fan myself.

  He's tall— at least six feet— and he's rocking a unique combination of black hair and blue eyes. His chest is broad and muscular, and his biceps and triceps are so defined that it looks like he lives at a gym.

  His smile is both mysterious and mischievous as he watches me approach.

  "Well, hello there, Doll," he says. "I'm Larson Campbell. I'm Jensen's friend from the military, and from the Desert Dogs."

  "I'm... Brynn," I manage to choke out, embarrassed that I seem to have momentarily forgotten my own name. "Brynn Elliot."

  Once I gather my wits about me again, I realize that I've heard of him. Jensen and Riley have mentioned him, and word around town is that he's an outlaw. Running from someone or something, although I don't know exactly what.

  But he sure is a hot outlaw.

  "And this is Caleb," I quickly add, as if to say, See? I've got a kid. You look like the type that likes to have fun, but I can't have much fun, because I've got a very serious responsibility. So be on your way now.

  Despite my earlier panic at seeing myself in a skirt that only a 20 year old should be wearing, I know I'm not an unattractive woman. Guys have complimented me on my curves and my hour glass shape. But they've also darted away from me as fast as they could, as soon as they found out I have a kid.

  So, I like to let them know up front that I have a kid, and in this case, I don't have much of a choice, considering that said kid is literally standing right in front of Larson, looking up at him like he's the best thing he's ever seen. Much the same way that I am.

  "Hello there, Caleb," Larson says, bending down and patting him on his head. "What's that truck you've got there?"

  Caleb hands it over willingly, causing Drew to scowl. He's been trying to grab that truck all afternoon without success, only to watch Caleb easily hand it over to someone else now.

  "Dump truck," Caleb says proudly.

  "It sure is," Larson agrees. "Beep beep beep. Grrrrrrr!"

  He makes truck noises as he drives the toy vehicle back and forth over his strapping chest muscles. It's simultaneously the hottest and most adorable thing I've ever seen, and I try hard not to look as swoony as I feel.

  "I was just telling Larson here how he should come to the party with us," Jensen says. "In fact, I've been trying to convince him all week. But he says he doesn't do costume parties. And you can't get in without a costume. So, guess he's just SOL. Isn't that a shame, Brynn?"

  Jensen fake pouts while Riley playfully swats at him again.

  I don't know whether I feel relieved that the temptation has been removed from me by Larson’s lack of a costume or upset that Larson obviously just came here to tease me.

  But before I have time to dwell on it, there's another knock at the door and a woman's voice saying, "We're here! Finally!"

  Riley opens it to her sister-in-law Whitney Bradford.

  "So sorry I'm late," Whitney says, as she helps a little boy through the door. "I’m watching James for Ramsey and Monica— they went on a little Halloween getaway; I guess they’re having some one on one time— and he took forever to go down for his nap, so of course he just now woke up, right when I was hoping he'd go to sleep for the night so I can watch some sleazy reality TV while you guys are off gallivanting at your Halloween party."

  "I'm the one who's sorry, Whitney," Riley says, taking the diaper bag and overnight bag from her hands. "You really don't have to..."

  "Watch the kids tonight," Whitney finishes for Riley. "I know. But I want to. You know me, though. Always liking to complain, even about things I want to do."

  They both laugh, and I feel another pang of jealousy. Once again, I’m happy that they’re close, but sad I don’t have anyone like that in my life.

  “Plus,” Whitney adds, “It’s not like I could party down tonight anyway, being pregnant and all. I might as well get some practice childcare in.”

  We laugh, and I tell her, “Oh, that’s right! Congratulations!”

  "Hello, Brynn," Whitney says, giving me a hug. "And thank you. How have you been? I haven't seen you in ages."

  "I know," I tell her, hugging her back and smelling her pleasantly scented perfume. I always forget to wear any. "Riley and I were just saying that we haven't seen each other since her wedding. And that's when I met you and I haven't even seen you since then. But I hear that your own wedding to Harlow was great. Riley shared some pictures on Facebook, and it looked absolutely beautiful"

  Whitney married Jensen's brother Harlow. It was a double wedding in which Jensen's and Harlow’s brother Ramsey also married his wife Monica.

  "Thanks," Whitney says. "I can't believe Harlow had to work tonight, but I'm happy to watch the kids since he and I can't go with you guys."

  I can't help but feel hit with multiple reasons to be jealous today, all staring me in the face. I like Riley's sisters-in-law and I'm happy that Riley has close family members. I know logically it makes sense that Riley would be best friends with them too.

  But she and I had been friends first. And now I never see her. I know that's more my fault than hers, though. I rarely make it home to Albuquerque and I can't expect her to come all the way to visit me in New York when her family and life are here.

  Still, I've never seen her be so cozy with another female before and I don't really have any other friends besides her. I'm so busy working all the time and caring for Caleb that I have no time to go out and meet people or do things with the acquaintances that I do have.

  Not to mention the fact that Riley has all of this love in her life and I only have Caleb. As I think about my little guy in his monkey costume, though, I know that having him is enough.

  And I'm grateful to have Riley as such a long-standing friend. I tell myself to stop the pity party and get excited for this Halloween party. Even if the strong, burly biker isn’t going to be in attendance.

  "Caleb, say hello to Miss Whitney," I say.

  I look down at my feet— where usually Caleb, being a rather shy, clingy boy, is perpetually hiding— but he's not there.

  "Oh," I turn around and notice that he's chasing after Larson, who has gone into the kitchen to make himself a drink.

  I guess Larson really has a talent for bringing Caleb out of his shell somehow.

  "I'll have a drink too," Jensen calls out to Larson. "Whiskey on the rocks."

  "I know what you drink, you… moron," Larson says, smiling. I can tell he was about to use another word but chose “moron” due to the fact that there are kids present, and I appreciate
his thoughtfulness. “We only spend half our waking hours either at the club house or down at Louie’s."

  Oh my God.

  I try hard not to roll my eyes. Back in law school, Louie’s was the local dive bar, known for its bikers, beers, and brawls.

  I guess some things never change.

  I tell myself that this Larson guy is definitely not my type. But then I look at his ass as he pours the drink, and I have to try to convince myself of that fact a little harder.

  "Oh crap," I say. "I need to finish putting on my makeup."

  I can't believe I'm still standing here with only one spider eye applied. From the way that Larson looked me up and down approvingly when we just met, I don't think he noticed or cared. But I've always been shy and I suddenly feel incredibly self-conscious about every little thing.

  And who wouldn't be, around Larson? The guy's pouring a drink in Riley's kitchen while causing my panties to get noticeably wet. Which is the last thing I need when wearing this damn short skirt.

  But I can't seem to stop staring. This guy is so ripped he could lift me with one finger.

  I can't help but feel as if I'm on the verge of doing something really stupid. Like begging and pleading this stranger with the pecs so obvious they're protruding out from under the white tee shirt and leather vest to take me to this party now and fuck my brains out later.

  "Oh crap!" Caleb repeats the word I just used in reference to needing to finish applying my makeup.

  "Honey, don't say that word," I tell him, cringing in Riley's direction. "That's just a word Mommy says when she's feeling frustrated."

  And flushed , I think. And hot and bothered .

  "Mama. Crap," Caleb says.

  I look at him sternly and do my best not to sigh in exasperation.

  "Hey little man, I'll teach you a new and cool word," Larson says, peering down at Caleb. "But only if you promise to use it instead of that other word. Deal?"

  He holds out his hand, and Caleb shakes it very solemnly, suddenly looking 23 instead of not even three years old.

  How does this guy do this? I wonder. Turn my kid into a decent little human being instead of a terrorizing toddler monster?

  Larson looks at me and winks. And I want to melt down into the floor. Or lie down on it and order him to get on top of me.

  "Okay," Larson tells Caleb. "The word is capola !"

  Caleb cracks up.

  "Ca- po -la!" he repeats.

  "Exactly," says Larson. "Capola, capola, capola. You got it? That's a word you only say when you're frustrated. And you say it instead of the no- no word your mommy told you not to use."

  "Only ca-po-la," Caleb agrees, holding his hand out again for Larson to shake, which he does.

  Holy capola.

  I'm in big trouble. I have to remember not to do anything stupid. Like hook up with this rough and tumbler biker who just taught my son manners after undressing me with his eyes.

  "Jensen," Riley says, interrupting my thoughts. "I think we should all make sure to stick together tonight and look out for each other. Brynn and I saw this really weird and scary breaking news report earlier, about these clowns. I know it sounds ridiculous, but...."

  "Yeah, we heard about them too," says Jensen. "Down at the club house. Some guys in Desert Dogs were talking about organizing a search to figure out who is doing this crap and how to stop it."

  "Capola!" Caleb shouts.

  "Good boy," I tell him, as Jensen says "sorry" for using the word "crap."

  "No problem," I say back to Jensen. "Clearly, I slip up too, and I'm his mom and should definitely know better. But anyway…"

  “I have no excuse,” Jensen insists. “I’m a dad, and my kid is here too.”

  I shrug, really trying to show him it’s no big deal.

  "Desert Dogs is Jensen and Larson's motorcycle club and it has a mission statement about protecting the community," Riley explains to me, even though I had remembered the name due to its uniqueness. I appreciate her explanation, though, and I’m glad to hear it. "It's good to have them on our side."

  "Absolutely," I agree, taking another look at Caleb in his monkey costume as he's clearly idolizing Larson.

  Even though biker guys have never been my type, I feel relieved to know that they'll protect us tonight. And as Larson winks at me, I have a feeling that's not the only thing he'll be doing for me tonight.

  Chapter 5 – Larson

  Well, fuck .

  I can't believe I'm on my bike headed to a fucking costume store.

  All because of a fucking woman I just met.

  But the first thing I thought when I saw Brynn Elliot was: I guess I'll be getting a costume and going to this stupid Halloween party.

  And I don't do costumes. I don't do Halloween parties.

  But I want to do Brynn.

  I can't get over how fucking hot she is.

  Jensen had told me but I didn't believe him. I thought he was just trying to set me up with Riley's poor lonely friend who was in town for the evening and who didn't want to be an extra wheel.

  But had I known he was telling the truth about her looks, I would have gone to Party Spirit right away and picked out the most ridiculous costume imaginable. Even though I think the whole costume party thing is so fucking juvenile and cheesy.

  And it wasn't only the Halloween party thing that had me resistant to going out tonight. It was the thought of going out in general.

  I don't really get out much anymore. I definitely don't date.

  Not since that night two years ago when I lost everything.

  I fuck a lot, sure. I fuck pretty much anything that walks. She doesn't have to be a looker. In fact, it's better if she isn't. Because then she doesn't remind me of her .

  But it's okay if she is a looker, of course. I just keep the lights off anyway. I fuck her— whoever she is— hard and good, sometimes two or three of them at once.

  They line up for me because they've heard about what a stud I am. How good I am in bed. What a big cock I have. How I'm so rough and strong I'll throw them over my shoulder, carry them upstairs, and fuck them hard and fast against the wall.

  It's all true. I don't think I've ever disappointed any of them. And there have been a lot of them. So many that I've lost count. And it doesn't even matter.

  Because what these women don't know is that being with them feels as good for me as it does for them. But not in the same way. Not in the way that they think.

  It takes my mind off things. Off her . Off them . Off what I had and what I lost.

  Sure, hooking up with a woman is just a temporarily relief, and then it's back to reality, until the next one comes along. But it's better than nothing. Better than the darkness and despair of being alone, absolutely alone with nothing and no one to fucking fill the void.

  But when I saw Brynn just now, I felt something different for the first time in a really fucking long time. Something that reminded me of life, of fullness, of hope.

  I push that thought away now. Because I don't want it to be true.

  I can't have her. She's only in town for one night. Jensen had made that clear, thinking I'd be happy about it.

  And usually he'd be right. I don't like to have to see them again. It's easier to just get my fill and move on.

  I'm also not her type, and I know that. Jensen said she's some big firm, big city lawyer.

  Plus, there's that little boy. That just hits a little too close to fucking home.

  Therefore, it's best that I think of her as a conquest. I know she'll be more of a challenge than the rest. But they can never resist me.

  And I saw the way she looked at me. Like she didn't want to be looking at me that way. But like she couldn't quite help herself, either.

  I know exactly what she wants me to do. She wants me to rip off that little cheerleading skirt she's wearing. She wants me to slap that nice, plump ass she's teasing me with. It’s round and bouncy, just like I like them. I could have so much fun with that fucking perfect ass
of hers.

  She wants me to pull her hair back and punish her for being such a slut on Halloween. She wants me to bite her neck like a Halloween vampire, to claim her as my own, for just one night.

  She wants me to eat her pussy like pumpkin pie and then fuck her long and good and hard. I just know it.

  So, I'd better get to this costume store before it's too late. I need to fuck the living daylights out of Brynn Elliot, and apparently buying a Halloween costume is a necessary first step towards achieving that goal.

  As I rev the engine faster, harder, just like I want my cock to do to Brynn’s pussy, I shake my head and can’t help but laugh at myself. Dressing up in a fucking costume. The things I’ll do for a hot piece of ass.

  Chapter 6 – Larson

  Jensen and I arrive at the Tucker Mansion just in time to join the back of a really fucking long line.

  "Great," I mumble under my breath, hoping that Brynn gets here soon.

  I'll be more than happy to let her cut in line in front of me so that I can peek at her cute ass sticking out of her skirt. But I'm not even sure if that view will be enough to ease my impatience.

  I fucking hate waiting in line even more than I fucking hate dressing up in ridiculous costumes. And as I look around at the other people waiting in line, I realize they're the type of pretentious fucks I hate hanging out with even more than I hate waiting in line and wearing a costume.

  All the girls are blonde, plastic and look like they bought their glitzy Halloween costumes on Rodeo fucking Drive. All the men look like wimps dressed like fake cowboys or— I shit you not— one guy in line in front of me is dressed like Fred fucking Flintstone and another as a genie. I feel like I’ve gone back in time to kindergarten.

  Plus, this elaborate mansion is doing its job of creeping me out. Mostly because of its over display of gaudiness. Also because being here means being stuck inside it with a bunch of crazy people.