Page 3 of Protective Biker

Diesel

The ride on my bike is usually relaxing for me, but tonight it wasn't. I found myself in a rush to get back to the clubhouse, and I'm sure it has everything to do with not wanting to leave Brandy. As soon as I get through the clubhouse doors, the Pres hollers my name and waves for me to join him at the table. I sit down with him, Renegade, Jason and a few of the other guys, and they're talking about the upcoming move to Whiskey Run. I try to listen to them talk and focus on what they’re saying as I look around the large room for Brandy. Scout is manning his spot behind the bar, but the curvy brunette is nowhere to be seen.

I interrupt Pres. "Where's Brandy at?"

He looks at me in confusion. "Who?"

I shake my head at him. The Pres had one bad breakup, and it seems that he doesn't have the time of day for any woman since then. He acts as if he has no clue who I'm talking about. I stand up from the table. "I'll be right back," I tell the guys and walk away.

Scout is holding a glass preparing a drink, and I stop next to him. "Where's Brandy at?"

He looks around the tables in front of him and then back at me. "I think she went to the back to grab something from the cooler."

I nod my head. Any other time, I would take a seat at the bar and wait for her to come out, but the cold prickle against my neck has me making my way to the back of the bar. I barely get through the swinging door when I hear feet scuffling toward the back. I head in that direction, but when I hear a muffled scream, I take off running. The sight that I see in front of me has my vision blur as the blood rushes to my head. Axle has Brandy forced against the wall with one hand around her neck holding her there, and his other hand is down the front of her pants. She's fighting for all she's worth, but she is no match for him.

I grab on to the back of his head and pull him toward me. I don't even think about it. There's a rule that there's no fighting within the MC, but this motherfucker will be lucky to have another breath when I'm done with him. I pummel him, and every muscle in my body is pulled tight as rage goes through me. I keep hitting as he moans and screams for me to stop, but I don't. It's not until I feel Brandy's hand on my shoulder, pulling me toward her, that I finally let go of Axle, and he falls to the ground. When I turn and look at her, I'm even more pissed when I see that her shirt is torn and her lip is busted, and blood is trickling down her chin. I reach for her, but she takes a step back, holding her hands up, palms facing me.

Even from where I'm standing, I can see her trembling, and it kills me that maybe she's scared of me. I know that the look on my face is fierce, and I try to soften it as I look at her. "I won't hurt you," I tell her.

She looks at me in a daze, but she must finally understand what I'm saying. When she drops her hands, her shoulders fall, and she leans backwards against the wall. It's as if adrenaline was going through her, and it left her all at once. I reach for her without stopping this time, needing to have her in my arms to comfort her. I whisper to the top of her head, "Nothing's going to hurt you now. No one is going to get to you."

She lets out a sigh. I know that I need to get her out of here, but there's no way I'm going to just leave Axle here on his own. With one arm around Brandy practically holding her up, I reach into my pocket and pull the phone out, dialing the Pres' phone number. He answers it, and before he can get a word out, I tell him, "Get back here. I'm by the coolers."

I don't wait for him to answer. I hang up the phone, stuff it back into my pocket, and then wrap both of my arms around her. Her hands remain at her sides, but at least she's not holding her body stiff anymore. She's leaning into me as if she needs the support. The Pres walks through the door, and Brandy stiffens in my arms and tries to pull away. I don't let her, though. I hold on to her tightly, and with a nod of my head toward the groaning man on the floor, the Pres makes a quick deduction of what just went on here.

His face hardens. He takes one look at Brandy with her busted lip, the blood, and the torn clothes, and he shakes his head. "Diesel, you take care of her. I'm going to take care of the trash."

I nod my head, and without even asking, I bend down and pick Brandy up in my arms.

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