My Two-wheeled Savior (Holy Rebel MC #1)

Chapter 1

"Shit!" I dig deeper into my pocket praying to find a hidden dollar to pay for these chips and drink. I refuse to use my credit card for him to trace it and find me. I don't even know where I am to be honest. "Here, I got it." A strong and muscular arm covered in tattoos reaches from behind me and hands the lady with an attitude behind the counter a twenty dollar bill. I turn to give the complete stranger a thanks and almost choke on my own spit. Holy shit he was hand molded by god. "Thank you." I tell him then squeeze past to the exit.

I plop myself down on the bus stop bench under the canopy to escape the heavy down pour. I am so stupid. I can't believe I thought I could just up and leave one day and make it on my own. I've already went through all my savings and the money my captain gave me. I now have no where to sleep anymore, nothing to eat. And I'm not just feeding myself anymore. I pull out my burner phone, fingers itching to call my parents to come get me. Or send me money at the very least.

A shadow appears in front of me, blocking the light of the street lamp. "Are you alright?" It's the stranger from 2 seconds ago. I give a bitter laugh. "No. Nope. Not at all." Is all I get out before crying. Now I'm breaking down in front of a complete stranger. I could just blame hormones, but it's really the weight of everything. I've been so busy running that I haven't had time to think about what I'm running from. I don't have to think to know he's right behind me.

"Do you have a place to stay?" He asks. I shake my head, words being hard to come by at the moment.

"Come one." He nods his blonde head in the direction of a motorcycle parked by the door of the store. He's really offering me a ride?

"You don't even know me." I could be a serial killer. Or have a crazy ass boyfriend that would shred him if he found out.

"Do you want to stay out in the rain. I don't think catching pneumonia is a good idea for the little one." His grey eyes glance down at my round stomach. I nod and grab my duffle bag before following him. I mean, what's the worst that can happen? He'll take me back to his place and I'll crash on the couch for the night. And tomorrow I can think of something to do.

He takes my bag and slings it around his shoulder and hands me his helmet. I mutter a weak thanks and climb on behind him. I feel his abs as I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him to death as he roars off.

I look over the patch on his back. I know this means he's in a motorcycle 'club'. I make a mental note to check his rank on the front of his cut when we get off this thing. I don't know much about clubs, just what I've learned off TV and work.

Tracing my finger over the letter I silently read Holy Rebels. That's an odd name. Like a fallen angel? He pulls into a warehouse looking building that looks lively inside and multiple bikes are lined up out front. There's a few cars parked too. He pulls into a spot at the very end of the line of about 5 or 6 bikes and helps me down. Not where I imagined him taking me, but maybe I should have figured.

I glance at his patch and see he's the president. Oh shit. There's also a 1% patch and a 13 one. I know what the 1% means, but not the 13. He leads me through the house and I get multiple stares. I, of course, look like a wet dog with wind blown hair. Great. A few stares are at not only me but my stomach too and only god knows what theories they're creating in their heads right now.

He stops in front of a door and opens it to lead us inside. My heart races at the sight of the bed but I try not to let it show. No need to jump to conclusions. And there's a lot of people just incase I scream. Though, they seem occupied.  "This is my room. You can crash here and I'll sleep out there. The bathroom is over there and there's clean towels somewhere. I'll check with you in the morning." And with that he leaves, closing the door behind him. I rush to lock it after him. Ok, I'm ok for tonight.