Grasping For Freedom (2 page)

Brandy had no idea the drama playing out behind her. Torque gazed back at Crystal. Raul's wife marched across the room with her arms swinging at her sides in a beeline toward the counter.

He'd seen what the Bantorus women would do to a bitch that got out of hand or didn't know her place. The female hangers were not allowed around the bikers during daylight hours, and definitely not when the old ladies were present.

He kept his gaze on the action. This was not going to end pretty and since he was in charge of looking after Brandy, he probably should do something.

"Eh, you might want to pull your woman in before there's bloodshed," Torque said.

Raul nodded and moved in a straight line. He intercepted Crystal with an arm around her waist and hauled her back before she was within arm's reach of Brandy. Torque watched him usher Crystal down the hallway, leaving Brandy unaware of the biker saving her ass.

Brandy spun around and caught him looking at her before he could bring himself to turn away. Challenged, he stared her down in case she believed she got the upper hand on him. He regretted his mistake the moment she planted her high-heeled boot in his direction.

He never had taken confrontations well. Seven years of hell early on in his life, he fought and protected his personal space. Old habits die hard, even on the outside.

"I see the vest. I see the flame tattoo on your neck. I see the badass attitude that makes you a Bantorus member. I also get how you have the freedom to come and go making your own rules, because you're part of the MC." She moistened her lips, and damned if his cock didn't hardened at the sight of her pink moist tongue. "But I will not have you interrupting my work day by pushing your authority in the bar or over me. You're not my boss, so get the hell out of here and find some other girl to entertain you."

"You going to make me?" he said, enjoying the banter too much for his liking.

Her gaze flickered and for the first time he noticed her hesitation. Then she stepped closer. "I'm serious. Don't fu—"

"Eh," he said, cutting her off. "Be careful, before I think of something else you can do with that dirty little mouth."

She scoffed and glared. "Get real."

He raised his hand, using his index finger to twine the strand of hair curling over the peak of her large breast pushing against her T-shirt. When he'd wrapped his whole finger, he tugged hard enough to catch her by surprise, causing her to stumble toward him. Her hands sprawled on his chest, and his body tensed in pleasure.

"I warned you. Stay away from
me
," he whispered.

Her breath quickened. "Or what?"

"You really want to know?" He stared at her mouth.

She paused with her lips parted. "Yeah. You talk big, but you're—"

He captured her mouth with his own, shutting her down.

Her full lips cushioned his. He gave her no warming, no softness, no chance to escape. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, stroking the velvety-softness in pure selfish lust. He swallowed her gasp, taking the opportunity to tilt his head to capture her bottom lip and go back for one more taste.

The tips of her nails scratched the sensitive scarred skin under his shirt. He growled, enjoying the pain. She made him feel past the pressure in his head. He sensed everything about her. Her strength, her softness, her taste—wild and hot, her smell—almost intoxicating and reminded him of honey and fresh air...freedom.

Brandy's hips tilted forward, pressing against his hardness. He groaned, leaning her back, taking her off balance so she had nowhere to go but to hold on to him. His breath escaped him and he closed his eyes, sucking, licking, demanding.

Then she was gone. He opened his eyes at the same time his hand jerked. She'd ripped her hair out of his grasp, and he curled his fingers, still holding a few stray strands that stayed with him.

She stared at him with wide, aroused eyes, an opened mouth, swollen and wet from his kiss. He glanced down at his hand and swallowed. He should never have touched her.

L
ightheaded and shocked from the kiss, Brandy stared at Torque. He was supposed to keep his distance. All men stayed away when she pushed them.

Not him, he took what he wanted and left her...confused.

"You asshole," she whispered, fingering her bottom lip where the skin still throbbed from the most possessive kiss she'd ever received.

Torque leaned closer. "I already gave you that information about me. Maybe you'll believe me now. I'm not playing your game. Stay the fuck away from me."

She retreated and walked toward the bar, unable to stand the heat coming off him. Everything inside of her wanted to retaliate and tell him what she thought of him putting her down...degrading her, embarrassing her. She wanted to scream. Instead, she kept walking.

She wanted to escape the bar, escape Bantorus MC, escape Torque, and not look back. She'd had a lifetime of attitude, and what had that left her? Absolutely nothing.

Bruce glanced at her while he wiped the counter down. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah." She nodded, convincing herself it was true.

She was an adult, holding down a managerial position, and surviving on her own. Other people's actions weren't a reflection on her. She was not responsible for what they did.

Her body flushed hot, not heated, not warmed, but one giant hot flash and she was only twenty-four years old. She glanced back at the man who instantly had her panting with this badass attitude. She couldn't explain why she reacted so badly toward him. Yet looking at him, he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, and the worst kind of man for her. She didn't need another hotheaded man in her life.

Torque represented bad news. All tough and dominating, even his looks pegged him as trouble. Longish brown hair swept back rather than brushed. Two days growth of whiskers as if he couldn't bother to shave. She inhaled swiftly, attempting to get control of herself. Broad shoulders, which his leather vest accented, added strength to his no-touch attitude.

But he'd touched her, and she'd liked it. She needed to figure out a way to hate him.

She'd spent years learning how to stand up for herself, to protect her weaknesses, and to live independently. None of her reactions to him made any sense.

"You know, Gladys worked here a lot of years. She ran the bar before Rain bought the business for Bantorus headquarters." Bruce set down a shot glass on the bar. "She was the first person I met when I was delegated to pouring drinks."

"Is that so?" she mumbled, watching him pour whiskey into the glass.

"Yep." Bruce slid the glass over in front of Brandy. "I'm also the one who knew that she got through the day by tossing back a whiskey now and then. Drink up, sweetheart. You need the calm."

"I can't." She eyed the glass, really wanting to wash away all the feelings of turmoil circling her stomach.

"Go on..." Bruce put the glass in her hand. "If only to wash the taste of Torque out of your mouth."

She lifted her gaze and met Bruce's wink. Amusement danced in his eyes, but he thankfully didn't say another work about what happened with Torque. She tipped back the drink and swallowed in one large gulp to hide from the truth. Her chest exploded in a blazing ball of fire. She breathed out and sucked in air, which made her cough.

She accepted the glass of Cola Bruce handed her, and drank half of the liquid before she was able to find her voice. "Thanks."

"No problem." Bruce winked. "You best go talk with the waitresses and prepare them for the evening crowd. Once this place picks up, you won't have another chance to organize the team."

"Right." She smoothed her shirt over her trembling stomach.

Taylor, the petite waitress with adorable brown hair and a scar across her cheek had shown her the back room and where to locate all the supplies during her orientation earlier, stood waiting for instructions with raised brows. Ginger, the outspoken red haired woman who assessed her up and down and forced a fake smile when Rain introduced her, looked everywhere else but at Brandy. They were polite, but standoffish. She'd expected their attitude, because she was new, she was female, and they'd just finished a going away party for a dear friend and boss.

While she went over rotations, break schedules, and the procedures on what the waitresses should do if they ran into trouble, Brandy kept her back toward the pool table and Torque. The whiskey helped calm her, and by the time she checked in on the cook, took inventory for Bruce, and stocked under the counter, she felt more like herself.

The evening crowd showed up and settled in at the bar and tables. A cluster of bikers congregated around the pool table, making a sea of leather vests, and making it more difficult to keep watching Torque—which she wasn't going to do.

Work wise, things were improving for her first day on the job.

Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She searched for Bruce and found him talking to an older biker sitting at the bar. Ginger sat on a man's lap in the corner, and the way she gyrated, she wasn't paying any attention to anyone else. She gazed at the pool table and found Taylor leaning into Slade, whom she'd met earlier and knew was Taylor's man. With everyone's eyes off her, she hurried down the hallway and out the back door. Only then did she remove her phone from her pocket.

Knowing she missed the call and the blackened out screen would give her no information on who called, she waited. The instructions from her boss were strict. If she didn't pick up, she'd receive another call in exactly three minutes. If she missed the connection a second time, she'd be removed from the area with no warning. Her life depended on her answering the phone.

Her phone vibrated. She pushed the side button. "Hello?"

"In three more days, we'll contact you. At that time, we need an idea on the number of Bantorus members and any information about their schedule," said the voice on the other end of the call.

Hired by Los Li after she turned to the wrong person for help, there was only one thing she could do until she found a way to get her father out of danger. She had to go along with her job of gathering information about Bantorus MC before her dad got himself killed.

She recognized the caller as the man she knew as Radiant. Nothing about him cast a glow around him like his name suggested. She suspected he was one of the main leaders within Los Li, and he got his name because he was the brains behind everything they did. Not that she knew what their business was, but the secrets and people who came and went within their headquarters were bad, real bad.

"Okay." She nodded, though she knew no one could see her. "You'll need to give me time, because only Rain—who isn't much of a talker, and the bartender here is reaching out to me. Most of them...they don't like outsiders, so they're not sharing anything I can't see myself."

"I'd suggest you change their minds then, baby," said Radiant.

She thrust her fingers in her hair. His suggestion was the obvious one, but the last thing she wanted to do was lower herself to whoring herself out. That was the main reason why she came to Pitnam. It kept her away from sleeping with the members of Los Li in exchange for her dad's life.

"I'll think of something," she said.

Silence greeted her. She looked at the display—still black, and put the cell back on her ear. "Hello?"

No response. She pushed the button on the side of the phone again and shoved the device in her pocket. Already she felt like a failure.

She opened the door and walked back inside Cactus Cove. She had no idea why Los Li wanted information on Bantorus MC, and she didn't care. She had to find her dad before she lost him too. She was too young and blind to what her mother had gone through, but she could stop her dad from self-destructing.

No matter what anyone else said—friends, coworkers, her dad's old buddies—she was the only person who could help her dad, the only one who could make him listen. Now that her mom couldn't keep David Haas on the straight, she was responsible for him.

The arid and yeasty smell of beer hit her in the hallway. She paused on the outskirt of the room, gathering herself. She only had a few more hours and then she could go out to the cabin.

A large man with a black skullcap walked toward her. She smiled and looked away to discourage any conversation. The man kept coming. She stepped to the side and his beefy hand circled her waist and brought her up flat against his chest.

"Excuse me," she said, pushing on his arms.

"That's it, honey." He tugged her closer, breathing on her face. "I like a bitch with fire."

"I said, excuse me." She shoved, but all she did was exhaust her strength. "Let me go, you—"

The man whirled around, losing his hold on her. Brandy stumbled, gaining her balance and heard a sickening pop followed by a thud. She jerked her gaze toward the man, who now lay flat on his back on the floor.

Torque stood above him, rubbing his hand. "She ain't one of the bitches, Graham."

Graham pushed up on his elbows. He glanced between her and Torque. "Sure looks like a bitch to me."

Torque planted his boot in the middle of Graham's chest and pushed him back down. "Apologize. Now. She's the new manager."

"Ah, hell," Graham muttered. "Sorry, honey. I didn't know you were working for Rain."

Uh. Well. Wow.
She pulled her gaze from Torque and glanced at Graham. "It's okay."

She turned to tell Torque thank you, but one look from him and she knew it would be better to walk away. She ducked her chin and turned around. Hiding out in the kitchen wasn't her plan, but that's what she did. She took the time to make small talk with the cook, help hand out ketchup bottles to Taylor, and finally joined Bruce behind the bar when her heartbeat settled into a familiar pattern.

The counter provided a shield between her and Torque, and meant she could relax. She poured a few mugs of beer and chatted with a couple named Pauline—who ran Pitnam's newspaper and was the old lady to Orca—who was huge. Before she knew it, Bruce announced last call. She glanced at the clock behind the bar. Ten more minutes and the bar closed.