The Biker's Wench (4 page)

You may kiss the bride.
At Ian's words, Harley leaned down to place a soft, chaste kiss on Monica's trembling lips, squeezing her hands in his. "We'll finish this later," he whispered, then straightened, pulling her behind him as he turned to face the man who'd so rudely interrupted. "My bride's father, I presume? I'm afraid you missed the ceremony, but I'm sure we could probably scare up some champagne if you want to celebrate with us." He smiled, enjoying how the man's face turned red, with purple veins popping up on his neck. Monica hadn't been kidding when she'd said he had a temper.
"I'm Stephen Burns, and that's my daughter behind you," the man said, leaning to the side for a glimpse of his daughter. "Monica, what is the meaning of this? Show yourself, girl."
Monica was still grasping Harley's hand, her grip so tight he'd have marks from her nails. He wondered where else she'd leave marks, the thought making him wish they were anywhere but here. He regarded her father, tall and slender with nary a gray hair. Dressed in a sharp black suit and a colorful tie that probably cost more than the bike helmet Monica had trashed, he was an imposing figure. He wasn't going to be happy when he went home empty handed, and it didn't look like he was going to go easy from the two burly guys standing just inside the chapel doors. Glancing over his shoulder he winked at Monica, struggling not to react to her snow-white face. He held out her hand to the minister.
"Ian, I think
my wife
is a bit overwhelmed. Would you show her to the back while I introduce myself to my new father-in-law?" Ian nodded, taking Monica's hand and pulling her gently toward a small door behind the altar. There was a back door from the minister's quarters, and hopefully Ian could sneak her out before anyone thought to check. Harley waited until the door closed, then descended the stairs to address his nemesis.
"Harlan Majors, owner of Fantasy Ranch and your new son-in-law. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." He held out his hand, somehow keeping a pleasant smile pasted to his lips. "You can call me Harley." He waited, eyes locked on the other man's in a tense, powerful stare. Knowing he couldn't back down, he held firm, confident that Mr. Burns would rise to the challenge of being civilized.
After several long moments, strong fingers wrapped around his in a crushing grip. "I can't say it's a pleasure," Burns said, a grudging note of respect in his voice. "But we'll see. You own this whole compound?" He released Harley's hand, glancing around the room.
"We prefer to call it an adult theme park, but yes."
Burns motioned slightly to his guards and they walked out without a word, leaving them alone.
Harley decided to be hospitable. “I’d be happy to have someone give you a tour if you'd like. I think you'll find we put a lot of work into making fantasy a reality."
Burns nodded, running his fingers over the back of a pristine white pew. "I take it you're doing well then?"
"We do okay." Harley frowned as he watched Burns sit in the front row, an unconcerned smile on his face. "I'm sure your daughter will be happy here."
Burns chuckled, sending a chill through Harley. "Perhaps she would have. Unfortunately, she has a contract to fulfill, and I'm afraid I can't allow her to stay. My business is too important for a mere female to derail." The door opened at the back of the room, and one of Burns' men stepped in, nodding once. "Ah," Burns said, rising. "There's my ride. I wish I could stay longer, but I'm afraid I have important things to attend to. You'll excuse me?"
"You sonofabitch." Harley sprinted behind the altar and slammed the office door open then ran through the empty room to the back exit and out into the alley. A woman's cries for help rang out through the crisp night air, and he took off around the corner and through the graveyard. He reached the main road just in time to see Ian on the ground with Betsy bending over him, and a dark limo pulling away from the curb, Monica's hands pressed against the back side window.

Harley pulled his cell phone out and speed dialed his security team. "There's a limo headed for the front gate - stop it. And we need medical to the chapel. Ian's been hurt." Disconnecting, he tried to ignore the primal need to go reclaim his woman immediately and knelt beside his sister, who was helping the minister sit up. "What happened," he asked, pulling Ian to his feet. "How did they get Monica?"

"They knew," Ian said, wincing and holding a hand across his midsection as he straightened. "Those bodyguards were waiting in the alley when we came out. Monica fought hard, and I chased them, but one of them clocked me in the stomach. I'm sorry, Harlan - I couldn't hold them off."

Harley shook his head. "It's not your fault - he had it all planned out before he came in. He must have done his homework, but he's not getting past that gate." His phone buzzed and he glanced down, then grinned. "Security's got them now, it seems. Are you going to be okay? Medical’s on the way, and Betsy can stay with you until they get here."

"I'll be fine." Ian took a tentative step forward. "What are you going to do?" He didn't look at Betsy and Harley wondered what she'd done this time. He'd have to have another talk with her about leaving his friend alone apparently. She'd been after Ian since they were kids and it was past time she gave up her childhood crush. But there were bigger issues to resolve at the moment.

He put his hands in his pockets, exhaling slowly. "I'm going to tell Burns to leave. Then I’ll take Monica home."
"And you think he'll go along with that?"
Harley shrugged, grinning as he started to walk away. "He doesn't have a choice." He glanced back, noted Ian's uncomfortable glance at Betsy and took pity on the man. "Hey sis, wanna come with? Monica might need a friendly shoulder while I'm dealing with her dad."
Ian stood taller. "Go ahead, I'm fine. She needs you." Betsy stared at him, locked in some silent debate for a moment before she turned on her stilettos and joined Harley on the dirt road. As they walked, Harley wondered how long she'd be able to stay quiet. It turned out to be about ten feet.
"I saw the way you looked at her, you know. The way you touched her. You didn't marry her just to protect her." Her tone was confident, and despite the fact that he did feel...something for his new wife, it wasn't something he wanted to discuss with his sister.
He stared straight ahead, watching people swarm around the entrance gate where he assumed Burns was giving his team a hard time. His men were the best in the business though - you couldn't run a place like this without top-notch security to keep people from getting hurt.
"None of your business, sis. But since you opened the topic, what did you do to Ian? He's all nervous around you again - didn't I warn you to step back?"
She punched him in the arm. Hard. "I was just having a little fun with him," she said, a pout evident in her voice. "He needs to lighten up and you know it. It's not like we haven't known each other forever."
"He doesn't want you, Sis. I know it's hard to hear, and even harder to understand, but you've got to leave him alone. I hate to see you waiting on a guy who--"
"Hey!" A shout from up ahead pulled his attention back to the melee. "Come back here!" A figure broke free from the crowd and ran toward their position in the street.
"Is that Monica?" Betsy squinted into the dark.
Harley took in the figure, his eyes raking over every curve of the silhouette. It was definitely her - but how had she gotten away? As she drew closer she turned to look over her shoulder and he reached out to hook an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. She panicked, punching and kicking at him with glazed eyes. He squeezed her to mute her actions and bent so his lips were close to her ear. "Monica, stop. You're safe."
At his voice, she immediately stilled, gripping his shoulders tightly. "Don't let him take me away - please. You promised, remember? I can't--"
"No one's taking you anywhere you don't want to go." He breathed in her scent, wondering how she could still smell so sweet under the sweat and worry she'd been through tonight. Knowing he still had to deal with her father, he stepped back, holding her arms when she would have followed him. "I have to go," he said, regretting the fear that came into her eyes. "Betsy's going to take you to my house. You'll be safe there - he doesn't know where it is."
Monica shook her head, trying to pull out of his grasp. "No. He won't listen to you you can't stop him. I have to get away..."
"You are away, hon." Betsy stepped in, curving an arm around Monica's shoulders and meeting Harley's eye with a slight nod. "You just let my big brother go handle this for you. I know your dad's strong, but Harley here, he's stronger and tougher. He'll take care of you, but he needs to know you're safe." She pulled Monica out of his grip, and Harley watched as Monica looked his sister in the eye, then turned back to pin him with an anxious stare.
"I don't know what to do," she said in a low, even tone. "I want to trust you..."
He glanced over her shoulder. Time was running out. Who knows what other tricks Mr. Burns had up his sleeve? "Just give me a chance," he said, leaning down to place a light kiss on her lips. "If I'm not back in an hour, Betsy will help you get off the ranch without being seen. I promise you'll be safe, no matter what happens."
"One hour," she said, reaching a hand out as if to touch him, then pulling it back. "I-be careful." She turned to Betsy and followed the other woman into a nearby alley, both figures quickly disappearing in the darkness. Exhaling slowly, Harley strode up the street to make sure his lawyers had something to do tomorrow.

Fighting the urge to look back, Monica allowed Betsy to pull her between two buildings and down another side street. She wondered what time it was, and automatically looked down at her bare wrist. Saloon girls didn't wear watches. Had it only been hours since Braden had found her? It felt like a lifetime, and a sudden weariness seeped into her bones, slowing her pace with each step. The long train of her gown was draped over her arm, and it felt like it weighed a million pounds.

"Hey, are you okay?" Betsy's voice startled Monica, and she looked up, surprised at the concern wrinkling the other woman's brow. Why did these people care so much about someone they barely knew, she wondered. She managed to lift her lips in what she hoped looked more like a smile than a grimace.

"Fine - I'm fine. I think it just finally hit me how tired I am." She forced herself to move a little faster, hoping it wasn't far. Her head was starting to spin a little, and it would be nice to sit down for a few minutes.

Monica resisted the urge to count the steps as she followed Harley's sister up what looked to be a marble staircase. As they reached the top she finally looked up and stopped, blinking as she tried to take in the enormous mansion before her. Betsy grinned and pulled her toward the heavy wooden door. The slab swung inward and they stepped through the opening into a large, lavish entry hall with burgundy carpet, black brocade walls, and a huge bouquet of fresh flowers on the round table in the center.

Monica stood, slowly turning her head from left to right as she tried to take it all in. Between the dark walls and under a large cut-glass chandelier a massive double staircase with dark wood railings dominated the room. "You live here? For real?"

Betsy giggled, placing one hand on her hip and swept the other hand out in a dramatic curtsy. "Technically, I work here as a French maid for the guests. This particular building is set up to mimic a palace, where guests can pretend to be kings, queens, princesses you name it. But there is a large suite at the end of each wing. I live in one, and Harley lives in the other. Come on, I'll show you."

She started walking toward the center of the stairs and Monica followed, curious when they kept going straight rather than up the steps. Betsy stopped in front of one of the walls and pushed on a small iron square with her thumb. A few seconds later, the wall slid open to reveal a small elevator car. Monica followed Betsy into the lift.

The other woman nodded. "Harley thought it would be safer and easier to keep the guests from accidentally wandering in." The elevator stopped and they got out, Betsy leading the way down a long, narrow hall. "It's very nice though, you'll see. But first, I need to show you one other thing...” she turned to the left, and Monica was surprised to see another staircase leading down.

"Uh, just how far down does this go?" The stairs were a little steeper than the first set, and she held tight to the railing as she cautiously descended.
Betsy moved across a narrow landing to a heavy steel door and waited for Monica to catch up. "There's one more sub-floor beneath us, but this will do for now." She studied the rocks around the door for a moment, then reached between two for a smaller one they were hiding. Turning it over she retrieved a key and placed it in the lock. Waiting to open it, she glanced over her shoulder. "If you ever need to get off the ranch without anyone seeing you, this is one of the places you can go." She pulled the door open and the scent of wet, packed earth assaulted Monica's senses. Peering into the dark, she frowned.
"I'll need to remember a flashlight, I guess. Where does it go?"
Betsy chuckled, pointing to the left wall. Monica could just barely make out a small cooler on the ground just inside the entrance. "Everything you need should be in there - I check it monthly and try to keep the batteries fresh. There's also bottled water and a towel." She pushed the door shut again, making sure the lock engaged before she put the key back in its hiding spot. "The tunnel is long, but if you just keep going you'll eventually end up out by the highway. The entrance on that end is well-hidden too, so you'll have time to avoid whoever it is you're running from. Just stay in the main tunnel. If you turn off, it’s easy to get lost. There are a lot of passages below the ranch from when it used to be a cult compound."
Monica nodded, the words barely registering as she stared at the metal door. She should just go. She could be gone before Harley got back. But Betsy was already moving toward the stairs, expecting her to follow. She sighed and reached for the railing, pulling herself up one step at a time. It wouldn't hurt to see Harley's place, and she had to admit the underground accommodations were intriguing. They reached the top of the stairs and Betsy led her down the hall and unlocked a door with her own key.
"Here we are," she said, pushing the door open and leading the way inside. "The guest room is just down that hall," she pointed to the right, "and there should be something in the refrigerator - I just stocked it the other day. Make yourself at home."
Smiling gratefully, Monica waited until Betsy had gone and then locked the door and padded down the hall to find the guest room. She felt completely drained, and a nap sounded like the best option at this point. She found a gigantic four-poster bed with a green brocade canopy waiting, carefully laid the beautiful dress over a chair and crawled beneath the covers.