Military Romance Collection: Contemporary Soldier Alpha Male Romance (50 page)

Chapter 1

Throwing open the door to the clubhouse, Chase Kilbourne swiped at the blood dripping from his nose and licked the corner of his mouth, where another split tasted of copper. A deep scowl settled over his face as he passed by his Cobra brothers, in a hurry to get to the bathroom and clean himself up.

He slammed through the door and bent over the sink, throwing water on his face and cursing at the sting and the ache in his nose. He looked up at his reflection for a second. Luckily, it wasn’t crooked. It wasn’t even very swollen. That gave him a little relief. He was pretty vain about his face, and the idea of walking around with a giant bulbous protrusion right in the middle of it did not appeal to him at all.

The blood was still caked on in several places, though, and he went back to scrubbing it off. He heard the bathroom door open but ignored it. “What happened this time?”

The familiar voice made Chase wince harder than the punch he’d taken. He opened his eyes and gazed at Brock’s reflection in the mirror. The man stood just inside with his feet shoulder width apart and his arms crossed. It was a pretty intimidating stance. “I thought you were at the casino tonight,” Chase said, dodging the question.

Brock gave him a crooked grin that didn’t reach his eyes, which were full of disapproval. “It’s your lucky day. I decided to take a short vacation. Now, what happened?”

Shutting off the faucet, Chase stood up straight and turned to face the boss. Brock tossed him a towel, and he took his time drying off his face. He looked down at the red and pink streaks and splotches on the white material. Well, this was a rag now. Finally, he leaned against the wall and tipped his head back, his eyes on the ceiling. “This guy said some nasty shit about the girl I was with. I told him to stuff it or I would, and he saw my vest. Started bad mouthing the Cobras. We exchanged words, and he threw the first punch. I just responded with about six more.”

He waited, but Brock said nothing, and he cast his eyes toward the guy without moving his head. Finally, he asked, “Was there any damage to the joint you were at?”

“No, it was a parking lot.”

“You were in a parking lot with some girl? On your bike?”

“We were just talking, Brock.”

“Did the police show up?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Chase sighed. “We heard a siren and left. I don’t even know if it was cops or a fire truck or something. And I don’t know if they were headed our way or not. As far as I’m concerned, there were no cops.”

“Did you send anyone to the hospital?”

With a sarcastic chuckle, Chase told him, “I wish. But no, I doubt it. The guy’s buddies forced him into the cab of a pickup. His face was a mess, but he was shouting some drunken, creative expletives at me the whole time. He’ll probably wipe it up, put a little ice on it, and drink it off.” Which was exactly what Chase wanted to do. He didn’t want to answer twenty questions. Brock was right – it was his lucky day, if bad luck counted.

“Okay. Let’s go get some ice on you before you start to swell up. And a shot of something stout.” Brock opened the door and ushered him out. Chase wasn’t stupid. He hadn’t been with the Cobras all that long, but he’d been around long enough to know the conversation wasn’t over. Cobras didn’t fight unless it was life and death or to protect each other and their women. He’d broken that rule, and there would be some sort of consequence to face. Brock wasn’t a harsh man. He preferred positive reinforcement whenever possible.

But there had to be order in the club. Chaos wasn’t an option.

Chase still hadn’t gotten used to structure. He’d lived in chaos for so long it was hard to accept a rule book in his life. Just like his solitary existence made it hard for him to believe in family and trust the Cobra brothers.

“Hey, Doug! Can we get some ice and a shot of Fireball?” Brock called as they stepped up to the bar.

Chase didn’t like Fireball, but he could feel his pulse in his nose now, and it was really unpleasant. He’d drink whatever Brock ordered to help ease it up. Doug came over with the bag of ice, a rag, and two shots. He smirked. “Pride or stupidity?” he asked.

Chase grunted as he wrapped the rag around the ice and put it on his nose. He hissed at he impact, but the relief was almost instantaneous. “Neither,” he growled.

“If you say so,” Doug chuckled. He walked away, probably at a glare from Brock. Chase would have been grateful if it hadn’t meant he was alone with Brock again.

“You know, I get it,” Brock said lightly. “I know where your mind is, and I know it’s at war with your heart right now.”

“What are you talking about?” Chase asked. Brock wasn’t making any sense, and Chase didn’t have the capacity at the moment to try to decipher his meaning.

“You want something you can rely on, and you don’t want to be alone anymore. That’s your heart talking. But your head is still stuck on the streets, and you still have that mentality that you have to fight for your turf. That you can’t believe anything anyone says. It’s confusing, and I get it. But you have to stop fighting, Chase. You can’t call that kind of attention to the Cobras. We keep our noses clean and stay above the law.” Brock didn’t raise his voice, and he didn’t sound disappointed or angry. He was encouraging.

And that rolled a guilt trip over Chase with the weight of a steam engine.

He put down the ice and tossed back the shot, making a face at the burn. “That stuff is such shit!” he coughed.

Brock laughed. “Yeah, well, it puts hair on your chest.”

“I don’t want hair on my chest,” Chase mumbled. He didn’t put the ice back on his face. He couldn’t feel his nose anymore. “I don’t mean to cause trouble. You know that.”

“I know.” Brock nodded and put a fist to his chest. “It’s in here. You carry anger and resentment, and you’re defensive. You’ve got to let all of that go and just accept that everyone in this club will have your back if something truly goes wrong. It took me some time, too, believe it or not. Dalton and I came here, and we only had each other. It had been that way for a long time, and changing our attitudes took a lot of effort. But the thing is, it wasn’t just us putting in the effort. Your brothers here are willing to do whatever it takes to help you, if you put forth the same effort.”

Chase nodded, casting his eyes down at the toes of his boots. “I’m trying.” He didn’t know what else to say. He’d been his own friend most of his life, taken care of himself. He’d found ways to make money, and he didn’t think he needed anyone else. But when he’d nearly died in a fight, a couple of the Cobras had come to his rescue, and they’d taken him in. A year later, he got his patch, but he still couldn’t reconcile himself to this new life.

Brock slapped him on the shoulder. “I can see that. Have a couple more drinks, and take the cot in the back tonight if you want. I don’t want you riding after you’ve been fighting and drinking.” He walked away, and Chase shook his head. He’s have one more drink, something to wash the taste of the Fireball out of his mouth, and then he’d head home. He didn’t like sleeping in strange places. He’d done it for too long.

Chapter 2

Fear clutched at Erin Phelp’s chest. She screened her clients carefully, and she’d never had a problem with any of them. The worst that had ever happened was a little rough handling and, once, a guy had slapped her. But he was scrawny and unsure of himself, so she’d turned around and slapped him back before grabbing her things and running out the door.

But she’d taken this job for a friend who couldn’t make it. Laura had given a good reference, said he was a good guy, but Erin quickly discovered otherwise. She didn’t deal with creeps. She charged high dollar for her escort services, and she expected to be treated with respect in public. This guy had tried to feel her up at the dinner table, reaching up her skirt and squeezing her breasts.

Erin promptly insisted he stop and threatened to leave. Apologizing, he offered to walk her out and hail her a cab, and like a naïve fool, she’d agreed. But the minute he’d gotten her out of the building, he’d grabbed her arm, his fingers digging in and bruising her, and he’d forced her down the street and around the corner. And now, he was trying to push her into the alley.

She fought him, but he was far bigger and stronger than she was, and he backhanded her, taking her breath away and making her nose and lip bleed. It stunned her long enough for him to shove her against the wall and hit her again, his knuckles connecting with her other cheek. If that wasn’t a crack in the bone she felt, it was close, and she cried out in pain.

Knowing she had to do something before this guy beat and raped her or even killed her, Erin slumped over, pretending she was unconscious. She let her arm hang, trying to reach her heel. Sure, they looked great and enticed men, but everyone in her profession knew they doubled as a weapon when you needed to defend yourself.

But her arm wasn’t long enough, and this jerk wasn’t going to let her off that easily. “Wake up!’ he growled, lifting her and slamming her against the wall so her neck snapped hard and the back of her head connected with the brick. She squealed and whimpered, and the man who had looked so handsome and seemed so smooth an hour ago appeared monstrous now. “I paid for you, and that means I get what I want.”

That wasn’t how it worked for Erin, though. She didn’t have a pimp because she didn’t want to answer to anyone else, but it was times like this when someone looking over her shoulder would have come in handy. She tried to think of some way out of this, some way to protect herself, but he had her pinned, and she couldn’t even pull the pepper spray out of her clutch. He tried to kiss her, and she turned her head away.

Gripping her chin so hard she thought he might break it, he forced her face back around, grinded his lips against hers, and then pulled back and spit in her face. Erin flinched and closed her eyes, so she didn’t see the next blow coming until she felt the sting of his palm against her jaw. She was terrified now. This man was truly violent, and she regretted ever taking this job. It was going to cost her. If not her life, then her looks.

“Hey!” Erin heard a deep cry from the end of the alley, just a few feet away. But this was Vegas, and the man could be screaming at anyone. No one interfered when someone grew violent toward a woman. She couldn’t hold out hope that whoever hollered had seen her in trouble.

“Hey, jackass! Get off her!” came the voice again, and she heard boots pounding the ground. Her ‘date’ turned to look long enough for her to lift a foot and jab one spike heel into his shoe, and he cried out wordlessly with pain as she broke through and connected with at least one toe.

By that time, the other man had reached them, and he grabbed her attacker by the shirt and slammed him against the wall. “What do you think you’re doing, huh?” he shouted in her customer’s face. He slammed a fist into his nose, which instantly gushed blood. Another connection made a snapping sound, and it was broken. A third had blood flying from his mouth, along with two teeth. “She’s a woman, not a punching bag,” her rescuer growled, bending her attacker over and shoving a knee first into his gut and then into his groin.

He fell to the ground, cupping his crotch with one hand and his pouring nose with the other. And still, the guy in the leather vest wasn’t done. He kicked the moaning jerk in the ribs twice, leaned over him, fisted a hand in his shirt, and made sure his head cracked against the ground.

Turning to Erin, he said, “Call 9-1-1.”

Stunned, Erin was momentarily paralyzed. Even though he looked like he’d already been in one fight tonight, the guy was absolutely gorgeous. But as he looked back to make sure her assailant wasn’t going to get up, she flipped her switch back on and, with shaking hands, pulled out her cell phone. She tried to dial, but her fingers trembled so hard she dropped the phone, and the screen shattered.

The man in the leather vest grabbed her and ducked so he could meet her gaze at eye level. “Hey, calm down. Other than your face, are you hurt?” he asked in a kind, worried voice.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She hadn’t realized she was crying until she spoke. Erin sniffled and swiped at her face, but she came away with blood on her fingers, and she sobbed.

“It’s alright. I’m here. And he’s not going to hurt you anymore. I’m calling the police, and you’re going to file a report, okay?” Erin nodded, and the guy handed her a handkerchief. “I promise, it’s clean. If you want help dabbing some of that off, I’ll help. Let me call first.” He backed up and put a phone to his ear.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement and gasped. Her attacker had rolled to his hands and knees and was trying to get up. But at her fearful squeak, the gorgeous man turned and saw what scared her. He landed another well placed kick right in the guy’s stomach as he said, “I’m calling to report an attempted rape in the alley behind Giles, just off Vegas Boulevard and Reno Ave…yeah, the guy’s still here…I’ve got him locked down…the girl? She’s bleeding, but I don’t think he actually got the job done. Roughed her up pretty good though.” Erin listened to his side of the conversation and flinched when he rested the heel of his boot on the guy’s groin with a threatening look. “No, I tried to stop him, and he attacked me, so I defended myself. He just kept coming, and I think he’s hurt pretty bad. I couldn’t help it…sure, I’ll stay on the line until someone gets here…Chase Kilbourne.” He spelled it and turned to Erin. “What’s your name?”

“Erin Phelps,” she said, her teeth suddenly chattering. She hugged herself, shivering so hard she had to lean back against the wall to keep from falling down.

He repeated her name and said, “You need to send two units. Miss Phelps needs medical attention. I think she’s going into shock.” Erin started to protest, but he was already shrugging off his vest and draping it around her. With her arms inside it, rather than through the sleeves, it was warm, probably because it swallowed her whole. When had she dropped her shawl? Erin’s memory of what happened earlier in the evening was beginning to fog, and all she could remember clearly was fighting against her john to stay out of the alley. Everything before that was too fuzzy.

“I’ll be here,” he reassured the dispatcher again, and Erin could already hear sirens in the distance. Hopefully, those were for her. He turned the phone so the receiver was up in the air and away from his mouth as he put his heel back on the john’s crotch. “Best way to get a man to be still is to threaten the jewels.”

She gave him the best smile she could muster. “Thank you.”

He waved her off. “I’d kill him for this if it wouldn’t put me in jail.” He grinned and winked, and even through her surreal sense of detachment, he was devastating. “I guess we’ve sort of met. I’m Chase.”

“Erin,” she said, huddling inside the vest. “Why did you stop?”

He frowned at her like she’d asked what planet he’d just flown in from. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“No one stops to help a rape victim. Especially an escort.”

His expression hardened. “I don’t care what other people would or wouldn’t do. It’s not right to walk by and see something like this and just keep going. Any man who assaults a woman doesn’t deserve to keep his package, and any man who can ignore an attack like this isn’t a real man.”

It was a gallant statement, and Erin assessed him more closely. He was covered in tattoos – his arms, neck, and probably his back and chest, though she couldn’t see those. It intrigued her, but she was more drawn to his face. Chase was young, with a fresh face that could have graced billboards or the Hollywood screens with sharp angles and planes, and his hair was dark. She couldn’t tell if it was black or just dark brown in the darkness of the alley, and he had a shadow of stubble over his chin and cheeks.

But his eyes were older, held a level of experience someone his age shouldn’t bear. Again, the color was impossible to tell, but they were light – green or blue most likely. What she noticed most was that he looked at her like she was a person, not an object, and that was the only thing that kept her from falling apart in this situation.

He wasn’t incredibly tall, maybe close to six feet, but Erin was short, and he would still tower over her five foot two stature if she wasn’t wearing heels. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, and if the way his shirt stretched over his chest was to be believed, it was flat and hard. His legs were strong and filled out his tight jeans as well as his ass. He certainly warranted attention, and she wondered where he’d come from. He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

She’d seen some sort of insignia on the back of his vest, but Erin hadn’t been in a position to take in the details. Still, she figured he had to belong to one of the motorcycle gangs around here. There were a few she knew of, but the most prevalent one was the Cobras. And she had a distinct feeling he belonged to them.

Two ambulances pulled up with sirens wailing and lights flashing, and several policemen ran around the corner, obviously having pulled in behind them. Chase subtly put his foot on the ground and took a quick step back from her attacker. He’d dealt with the police before. And Erin let him deal with them first now, while two of the EMTs came to assess her injuries and wrap her in a blessedly warm, thick blanket.