ARROGANT BRIT (A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE) (41 page)

Chapter 5

Trent

When I stepped out of the
bathroom, I heard scuffling from the bar. I never should have left her alone
with them.

They were a pack of wild,
drunken animals, and she was a young, sexy, defenseless girl.

There was no argument.

No questioning in my head.

I knew what I had to do and
I
acted
.

The group had her pinned
against the bar top. Judging by the muffled noises, a hand was clamped tightly
over her lips. They were hungrily pulling at her miniskirt when the last one
spotted me just a moment too late.

With a sickly crack, my fist
connected with his face, sending the man stumbling backwards against the
others.

Two of the assholes kept
holding the poor girl down while the big one – probably their leader, by the
looks of it – reeled forward with a roaring fist.

I sidestepped, tripping him
into a table and sending the remnants of a beer splashing at my feet. Things
were rapidly getting out of control. The bikers recovered quickly, lunging for
me in unison.

Thinking fast, I stepped
backwards but slipped on the wet floor. My head connected with a barstool,
making me vulnerable just at the wrong time.

Someone grabbed me by the
shirt as I tried to orient myself. A powerful fist smashed into my face, but I
detached myself and head-butted the offender.

“
Fuck!
” The voice called out.

It sounded like the leader.

Good.

The other guy tried to lash
at me as I clambered to my feet, but I ducked his strike. Using his weight to
my advantage, I grabbed at his arm and knocked him off balance. Before he could
regain footing, I drove his head straight down into the bar.

His skull connected with a
resounding
WHAM!

The leader was on top of me
again, as he tried to get in a solid gut punch. I took one in the ribs before
managing to push him back.

My hand brushed against a
dirty glass. It was a stray tumbler, fostering the last few, forgotten sips of
dark liquor.

Perfect,
I
thought to myself.

I smashed it hard against
the side of his face.

“
Goddammit!
” He cried out as glass flew everywhere. “
You fucking SHIT!
”

I could hear a commotion
from behind him. Lunging forward, I dove like a feral animal towards the two
bikers still holding down the bartender.

She was kicking and fighting
and had managed to bite the hand covering her face.

I aimed my weakened but
effective punch at the distracted biker with the bitten hand, catching him just
off-center. Stunned, he stumbled backwards against a low wall.

The bartender broke free
from the other asshole, dodging around the rising leader and behind the
counter.

Whoever this girl was, she
was a quick and nimble little minx. She dove behind the bar.

The leader got in a few good
licks at me before I grappled him down to the floorboards. He got the upper
hand briefly, but I managed to force him onto his back, straddling him and
delivering a few solid wallops to either side of his head.

I was just climbing up when
I heard the scraping behind me.

Before I knew what was
happening, the bar stool connected with my head. Falling, my eyes cast back to
the bar. A beautiful yet frightening face was rising from behind the dark
wooden counter with a beastly looking 12-gauge shotgun in her hands. An explosion
rang out, the gun punching a large hole in the ceiling. My loudly ringing ears
couldn’t mask the unmistakable sound of the pretty girl racking another shell.

…And then everything went
black.

Chapter 6

Angel

It was awhile before Trent finally
started to stir. The tiny, makeshift bed creaked with his sleepy, sluggish
movements, and I firmly pressed my fingertips down over his pectoral.

“No. Stay down. Rest.”

He nodded quietly, relaxing
back down.

I lifted my fingers from his
chest. Even through his shirt, I could tell how built he was. He probably had a
stack of washboard abs below.

Privately, I grumbled that
it hadn’t occurred to me to bother checking that.

This guy was probably a
muscle powerhouse beneath these clothes, and I’d missed my one chance to sneak
a peak without him knowing.

“Do you want something to
drink?” I asked.

“Water,” he asked.

I reached for the glass that
I’d prepared and left beside him. Holding the edge to his lips, I carefully
slipped him some of the cold water.

“Where are we?” He asked me,
coughing.

“Where I live,” I answered
truthfully.

We were in a backroom with a
single window casting in moonlight from above. A bare lightbulb hung from the
ceiling but I hated its sickly glow, so I relied on the natural light (or lack
thereof).

Besides, I was used to
moving around in the dark.

It made it easier to forget
that I was trapped living in such a complete dump.

“I thought you were an
asshole when you walked in,” I remarked. “You kept looking at me like I was a
hot piece of meat... And then you go and save me from those fuckers.”

“Yeah, well…it’s been a
weird night.”

“Tell me about it,” I
agreed. “But listen. I need to check you out.”

In the dim lighting, I saw
his lips curl into that cocky smile again. “You don’t need my permission for
that.”

“Ugh. Not like that,” I
corrected. “But you took a beating there. Like a fucking champ, I’ll admit.
Still, I need to take a look at your head. You might have a concussion.”

“Explains why my head hurts
so much,” Trent laughed painfully. “Go ahead, doc.”

He slowly pulled himself to
a seated position, and I helped him out of his shirt. After telling him to
close his eyes briefly, I flicked on the overhead light.

Oh
sweet Jesus.

He was temporarily blinded,
but I adjusted quickly – fast enough to see how amazing his powerful, rugged
build really was.

There could barely be an
ounce of fat on this guy’s body. He was all muscle – built to last. His sinews
rippled just below the skin, pulling taut as he shielded his eyes. His powerful
shoulders and tight pectorals were to die for.

Turns out that I had been
completely right about his abs.

You could probably slice
onions on them.

“Are you done checking out
the goods?” Trent chuckled arrogantly. That stupidly sexy smile of his curled
along his lips again.

Ugh
.

“You’ll stop talking if you
want my help,” I warned him.

“Alright,
alright…”

I pulled down my medical kit
from a shelf. Popping it open and spreading a few supplies along the bed, I sat
down beside him and dabbed rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball.

“This might sting a little,”
I explained.

“Pfft. I can take it.”

The slight waft hit my
nostrils as I pressed it to his cheek, bringing me back to when I was a child.
It was one of the few memories that really stuck out, patching up my stepfather
after one of his famous barroom brawls.

I shook the thought from my
head. I couldn’t help but wonder why alcohol seemed to be the common
denominator in pretty much everything I did, despite how much I hated the
stuff.

Dabbing lightly, I checked
his cuts and bruises. After applying some of the rubbing alcohol to his wounds,
I ducked out of the room and came back with a hot, soapy rag.

“Nothing broken,” I
observed. “Worst thing I’m seeing is a few deep bruises and the lump on your
head. Still not sure about that concussion, but you don’t look too worse for wear.
It’ll hurt later. But you probably don’t need a doctor.”

It was clear that he was
starting to finally remember things as I cleaned him up.

“What happened after I hit
the floor?”

“You’d be surprised how fast
a bunch of fat ass bikers can run when you point some buckshot in their
direction.”

“Remind me never to piss you
off,” Trent said, letting out a low laugh. “Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine, thanks to you,” I
replied.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You were a beast. You
kept taking punches and returning them harder. Those bikers weren’t exactly
pushovers. And you took on
four
of
them at once.”

“You had two of them
distracted.”

“Still. That’s no easy
feat.”

“You sound impressed,” Trent
said, cocking a smile.

“Maybe a little, but let’s
not forget that I saved your ass too. With a shotgun and everything. I mean,
I’m not gonna lie, it was pretty epic. You should have totally been there,
instead of unconscious.”

He smiled at me for a
moment, before the grin faltered. “What about the bikers, though? Are they
coming back, or…?”

I shook my head. “Called the
Sherriff. He picked them up on the interstate headed west. They won’t be
bothering me or
anyone
else for
awhile.”

We sat in silence for a
moment while I wiped him down. There wasn’t a lot more I could do. He was going
to need some painkillers for the morning, which I didn’t really have access to,
so… yeah.

 
“So, who
are
you, anyway?” I asked him.

“I already told you. I’m
Trent Masters.”

“Yeah. Doesn’t exactly
really ring a bell.”

He flashed a cocky smile, as
if he was about to announce himself as the lord of some distant land. “You ever
heard of
Trent Masters and the Whiplash?
”

I laughed aloud.
 

I didn’t think this could
get any dumber.

“Yeah, your name probably
would have tipped me off if that meant
anything
to me.”

Trent looked a little
disappointed.

“I figured,” he murmured
with dejected irritation. “If you didn’t recognize me when I came in, you
probably weren’t going to, anyway.”

“So, enough with the
bullshit. Who
are
you? What’s this
about whiplash?”

Trent grinned cockily.
“We’re a rock band.”

“Funny,” I chuckled. When
his grin only grew wider, my face only hardened. “Wait, you’re
serious?
But I’ve never heard of you…”

“You’re right. I
clearly
made that up. I mean, I can’t
imagine how a tiny, backwater town halfway up the ass of Alabama might have
missed a band that tops the hottest Top 40 stations.”

“I’m more of a country
girl,” I conceded. “But we
get
radio
here. Wait…”

It started to dawn on me.

“Wait, no, there’s this one
rock song that comes on every once in a while, what is it…I can never hear the
name, they never announce the band or the song title…”

“How’s it go?” He asked.

“Nuh-uh. I can’t sing.”

He shrugged. “Recite some
lyrics.”

“Um.”

I thought for a second.

“Reeeeaad my bones,
whispered, taken?”

Trent laughed with
amusement.

“That’s…wrong. That’s
really
wrong. But yeah, that’d be us.
You’re talking about a song I wrote,
Wicked
Wilds.
”

“I see,” I thought aloud.
“So, that’s
you?
”

His eyes glistened with
delight. His voice began to sound more familiar now – it could definitely be
close enough to be behind that song. I mean, I hadn’t heard it
often
, but it was one of the few rock
songs that really drew my attention.

It had always been sung so
soulfully.

The singer’s voice really
rang with emotion.

But he could still be making
this shit up. Wouldn’t be the first time some asshole came into my bar
pretending to be something he wasn’t.

“Sing it,” I demanded,
crossing my arms.

He looked surprised. “You
want me to sing for you?”

“If you expect me to
actually
believe
this bullshit you’re
spewing, then yeah, I definitely do.”

“You
do
realize that people usually pay me thousands of dollars to sing,
right? And I just saved you from, from…”

“Classy as
fuck
, Trent,” I laughed. “You’re right.
You just saved me from being raped. Low blow,
much?
But I distinctly remember whipping out a shotgun when you
went down, so I think you and I are
one
for one
. Besides. I don’t think it’s that big a request. You’re making a
total fuss over a few lyrics?”

Trent flashed a grin. “Good
point.”

“So, go on, then,” I waved
at him with my wrist. “Prove that it’s you. Work your magic.”

“What if I’m an
impersonator?”

“I’ll know if you’re full of
shit.”

Trent shook his head,
smiling softly. He looked deep into my eyes, as if searching to see if I was
being serious. After a moment, he smile settled in a big, arrogant grin.

“Fine. Have it your way,
then.”

While I sat next to Trent
Masters, he turned to me, looking deep into my being, and his sturdy voice
yarled the rugged chorus to his
alleged
rock hit single:

“
Reeee-yee-yee-ead my bones… broken, laid, and / Heeee-yee-yee-eed my
moans… whispered, taken / Seee-yee-yee-eee my frown… buried, bathed in /
Feee-yee-yee-eel my crown… dust and vapor”

Trent’s deep voice rang in
the small space, digging into a dark octave and pouring out his very soul
against the walls.

My head flashed to the
alternative rock heroes of the Nineties –
Pearl
Jam
,
Soundgarden, Stone Temple Pilots
,
guys like that
.
They’d never been my
jam, but as I listened, I knew the truth. I was tending to the wounds of a
real-life rock star.

He was so young, and oh so
fucking hot.

Maybe I could give up on
country… Just this once…

“You believe me now,” he
smiled cockily.

“That’s…definitely you, on
the radio.”

“Me,
and
my band,” he added.

“What the
fuck
are you guys doing here in the
middle of nowhere?” I asked breathlessly. “I mean, what brought you to
Riverton?
How did you wind up in
my
bar?”

“We’re playing the
RipFest
, just an hour or so over from
here. It’s the biggest music festival in the state. The after-party wasn’t my
scene. I decided to hit the road and find somewhere a little quieter to nurse a
beer.”