Ace: His Angel (Phoenix Riders MC 1)

1: Uncharted Territory

"Girls like her were born in a storm. They have lightning in their souls. Thunder in their hearts.     And chaos in their bones." - Nikita Gill

Kaitlyn POV

My butt went numb hours ago, but no amount of pain will stop me from moving forward. I know where I'm going. I have for years, and I will not stop. One more hour to go.

Driving across the country with half a plan and all my belongings seemed like a brighter idea five days ago. But I refuse to go back. I left without saying goodbye (that I had any), knowing I would never go back.

This is my last stop.

An hour later, I pulled into a gas station "Downtown" in a small town. Getting out, I stretched my legs and filled up my tank, and looked around. The town is quiet and empty for 10 p.m. on a Thursday, but I need food, preferably before I become hangry.

Pulling out my phone, I searched for food nearby and found a bar that was "the best around". Not to mention one of the few things open at this late hour and wasn't about to close in the next thirty minutes.

The bar it is...

Securing my gas tank, I pulled out of the station and ten minutes later pulled into a parking lot half packed with motorcycles. I sat in my car, nervous, and anxious, questioning if I should go in or head to the hotel. As if on cue, my stomach growled, and not eating was not an option.

"Fine, you win... again." I rolled my eyes. "There better be good food in there," I mumbled, getting out of the car.

I'm not a huge fan of bars, especially in places I don't know with people I don't know. The outside didn't look terrible, but there was no say in who or what is on the inside. A bouncer stood at the door but didn't ask for my I.D. Odd.

He nodded for me to go inside, and it was not nearly as dingy as I imagined and well-lit. On the right was an L-shaped bar, and booths lined the other half of the far wall, with a few people sitting there. They filled the middle with tables and chairs, and along the far wall was an area for pool tables, where some guys played.

I took an open seat at the bar, away from other customers, and waited for the bartender to make his rounds.

The bartender saw me and headed my way. "Hey, I'm Whiskey. What can I get for you?" he asked.

Whiskey looked about mid-thirties with longer shaggy blonde hair and big brown eyes, wearing jeans and a tight black shirt. The only abnormality was his leather vest, which had his name on the front and a patch with a logo on it, but nothing else. Tattoos covered his skin, skillfully done ones at that. I couldn't tell if he stood out of blended in. Either way, his brown eyes stared at me, waiting for me to order.

"Uh... yeah, can I have a margarita on the rocks with salt? And do you have a menu for food?" I finally managed out.

He looked at me for a moment, deciding if I was underage age or not. I look considerably younger than I am, especially when I look like I got hit by a train or stuck in a car for over eight hours as I do now. But Whiskey nodded and left to make my drink.

Looking around, I saw others covered in tattoos, wearing the same vest as Whiskey, with what looked like motorcycle club patches on them. I've heard about two different types of clubs, those who ride for community and those who dabble in illegal businesses, usually. So which type of motorcycle club is this?

Before I could think any more, Whiskey returned with my drink and a menu. I thanked him, stared at my drink, and Whiskey noticed.

"I made it personally. I would never do that to a woman," he assured me, and I wanted to believe him.

"Sorry, a habit I guess," I replied, blushing, knowing it was silly of me to think he would, but he nodded understandingly. I'm probably not the first girl, nor the last, who questioned what was in her drink.

After looking over the menu, both the wings and tacos looked good. However, I'm a sucker for a good taco.

Looking up, Whiskey stood in front of me again. "So, what'll it be?" he asked.

"Are the tacos good?"

Whiskey laughed and walked away, placing my order.

Guess the tacos are good.

As I finished my drink, a large, sweaty, beer-bellied man sat next to me and ordered a beer. He turned his attention to me and smiled. I quickly turned away and saw the bar filling up, but there were plenty of open seats, but he chose this one. Great. I returned to playing Sudoku on my phone, not wanting a conversation with him, and minutes later Whiskey appeared with my tacos.

Whisky came over with his beer and my tacos, and the man to my left stopped him.

"Hey, can you grab her another..." he paused, looking at me and my drink, wondering what I was drinking.

"Oh, no it's ok I'm good, but thank you." I rushed out.

"No, no, I insist! Bring her another of whatever she's having...on me," he winked at me.

My eyes widened as I looked down at my food. When I glanced back up, Whiskey stared at me, waiting for me to tell him what to do. Not wanting to make a scene, I gave him a small nod saying I was fine, and he went to make my drink.

I lied. I am not fine. Anxiety crept forward, and the man next to me insisted on talking to me, despite ignoring him. This is why I hate bars.

"So, you from around here or just stopping by?" he asked, chugging half his beer.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, not responding. "I haven't seen you around here before and I would know if I had seen someone as...hot as you," he smirked. Gross.

My confidence will come out when a guy pushes too far, and this guy seems ready to test my boundaries. However, I know better than to start something in a town where I don't know anyone and a bar fight is not on my bucket list. So, I answered him.

"I'm just visiting," I lied, trying to hide my eye roll.

My words hardly left my mouth when his hand grabbed mine that rested on my lap. He took my answer as an open invitation. The guy pulled my hand to his leg, moving it closer and closer to his groin, holding me tightly. I could feel myself panic and looked for Whiskey, but he was at the other end of the bar.

Leaning over, his hot, stick voice whispered in my ear, "Come back to my place, baby girl. My bed is far more comfortable." Disgusting.

I will not continue this conversation with this disgusting man, and I refuse to sit by in silence any longer. So I did the only thing I knew how to do; be myself.

His drunken eyes met my icy ones. I have no problem being a cold-hearted bitch and putting someone in their place. "I will only ask this once. Please let go of my hand and leave me alone," I said with a tight smile.

He laughed and squeezed my hand which he held in his lap. He doesn't understand the word "no", but he's about to. No one noticed our interactions, and I don't care who sees what happens next, either. I am done.

Smiling at me, he tugged my hand, lurching me towards him and he leaned in to kiss me. I reared my head back and stood up quickly, trying to pull my hand away, but his grip only tightened around my wrist. That is going to leave a bruise.

Standing, he pulled me flush against him, and his body order was overwhelming. "If you don't let go of me, I will make you and you will not like it," I gritted out, trying to get away, but my efforts did nothing to deter the guy.

My tiny frame compared to his was laughable, which is probably why he didn't look phased. I wouldn't be either if he knew I had never thrown a punch in my life, but he didn't need to know that. Usually, my bark is enough to deter people, and I've never had to bite. Then again, there's a first time for everything.

I moved as much as I could, ready to deliver a fist to his face and a knee to his groin, but a deep gruff voice behind me stopped me.

"She said to let her go and she shouldn't have to ask twice."