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She got off the bus twenty minutes later, her feet already tired. At twenty-eight she felt more like sixty-eight. Her mind wanted to drift to fantasies of Killian, but she shoved them away, refusing to fall victim to his whims again. She still hadn’t gotten over the fact he could walk away from what she considered the love of a lifetime. But she really didn’t know him at all. He’d been so sweet and attentive, an arts student at the local college, and working part-time in a local hardware store—only he wasn’t.
Shit, she was thinking about him and now her mood had soured before she even started her shift. It was bad enough she’d have to deal with all the filthy perverts as they drank too much and felt they had a right to touch or proposition her.
After an hour on the floor, June was running around tending all the customers. The place was packed, which was good for tips but bad for potential problems. This place wasn’t exactly a 5-star lounge. It was a sketchy drinking hole for the worst of the worst. She’d only gotten the job because she was blessed in the bosom department, but she wasn’t going to turn down the second job when she desperately needed the money. June just did her best to mind her business and stay off the radar.
“Hey, fun cheeks, give me a kiss, eh?” A man patted his lap, waiting for her to sit down.
She leaned away from the bearded man. He was one of the higher ups in a local MC. That still didn’t mean she was on the menu. “Maybe you’ve had enough to drink?” she suggested.
He scowled, grabbing her t-shirt and tugging her towards him. His friends stood around him, laughing. She was nothing, garbage, usable—and she wanted to cry. She wanted to be cuddled up to her son in their little apartment. She wanted more. But she was here, and she was powerless.
“Let me go!” she said. “You have no right.” Her tears were so close to the surface, but she had to appear stronger than that.
“I own this town,” he said, the scent of alcohol on his breath stinging her eyes.
She shook her head, struggling. Her bastard boss didn’t even attempt to help her because he was terrified of the Dead Angels MC. They’d torn his bar up numerous times when he didn’t let them have their way.
“I think the lady said to let her go.”
They all turned to the voice. It was Killian. He was dressed in black, his hair slicked back from his face. There was no hint of fear or emotion in his eyes. As much as she was relieved to see him, he’d get himself killed standing up to these men.
“And why the hell do you care, pretty boy?”
“Because that’s my woman.”
There were gasps and chuckles in the bar. Killian hadn’t moved an inch, even as the gang member started to circle him.
“Killian, just go. I don’t want you to get hurt,” said June. She tried to hate him, but she’d always love him.
He smiled, curling a finger motioning her to come. “I want you to wait for me outside, baby.”
“I’m on shift until three,” she said.
“No, I promise, you’re done working at this shithole. Now wait outside.” His tone left no room for argument. She reluctantly walked toward the entrance, turning back the entire time. If she had a cell phone, she’d call the cops.
“You put your hands on her,” said Killian. “That was your first fucking mistake.”
“Really, what’re you gonna do about it, pretty boy?”
He cracked his head to each side, then his knuckles. “I’m going to fuck you up.”
Killian moved so fast, she almost missed it. With one short straight punch to the face, the bearded man fell off his stool to the floor, out cold. Killian moved like a professional boxer, ducking away from every blow and delivering devastating punches to the other men, one at a time. They dropped like flies, and June couldn’t believe her eyes.
When one of the men pulled out a handgun, she froze, too scared to move or scream in warning.
The old bastard chuckled, aiming at Killian. “Not so tough now are you, blondie?”
“You call that a fucking gun? No, these are guns.” Killian reached both arms behind him, and returned with a gun in each hand, pointing at two different men.
“Do you know who we are?”
Killian scoffed. “You’re assholes who messed with the wrong woman.” Then he fired, the sound impossibly loud. June slapped her hands over her ears and squatted down. She closed her eyes, listening to gunshots ring out. When silence finally settled, she peeked open her eyes. Killian was the only one standing. He holstered those two guns and then casually pulled out his wallet. He slapped a wad of cash on the bar. “To help with the damage, not that you deserve it for letting lowlifes like these in here.”
He approached her, and she wasn’t sure if she should be scared or not. She didn’t know this new Killian at all.
“You killed them,” she whispered.
“No, they’re all alive and well. Each with a reminder not to fuck with me.” He took her hand and left the bar. “Trust me, he’s lucky. I wanted to put a bullet right between that piece of shit’s eyes.”
