Snake Charmer (Rawkfist MC Book 2)
Read Snake Charmer (Rawkfist MC Book 2) Online
Authors: Bijou Hunter
Snake Charmer
Bijou Hunter
Copyright © 2016 Bijou Hunter
All rights reserved, including the
right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
*****
This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products
of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
For more information about this series
and author visit:
http://www.bijouhunterbooks.com
Cover Design
Photographer: Victor Tongdee
Photo Source: Shutterstock
Cover Copyright © 2016 Bijou Hunter
Dedication
Freckles, Tigger, Pooh, and Roo for
laughing at my jokes
My sweet mama for being an ornery
badass
My beta reading babes Sarah and Janie
Nicole for smiling through her tears
Jaimie for enduring my endless drivel
Book Summary
Dad
was an outlaw. Mom was the daughter of The Man. I never belonged in either
world, always stuck somewhere in between.
My
job with the sheriff’s department pays the bills, but I’m faking my way through
life. No one is the least bit interested in seeing behind my mask until I meet
Journey Sheerer.
My
temperamental temptress knows as little about relationships as I do. We ought
to crash and burn. Maybe we still will, but I’ll never let her go. For all of
these, I wait for my shot with the girl sporting a scary scowl and a scarier
right hook. Having finally made my move, I got no doubt it’ll be one helluva bumpy
ride.
Table of Contents
Journey
T
he flashing red lights in my rearview
instantly put me in a bad mood. Every day for months now, I’ve driven this two
lane highway in Clinton County, West Virginia. Not once have I seen a police
car, let alone any drivers pulled over. The place is as close to abandoned as a
lived in nowhere highway can be. In fact, I worry so much about weirdoes
showing up rather than cops that I keep a gallon of pepper spray handy.
Today, though, I have a cop on my ass,
signaling for me to pull over despite my sticking to the speed limit like a
well-behaved member of society.
I’m exhausted after working an extra
shift at the hospital. Typically, my ultrasound technician job involves looking
at unborn babies. Occasionally, I get the weird mass or cancer patient. I don’t
know if something is in the water around these parts, but every able-bodied
woman in a fifty-mile radius has come down with a pregnancy lately.
After pulling over, I yank open the
glove compartment to grab my registration and insurance. I glare into the
rearview mirror to find the cop moseying from his car to mine.
No one in West Virginia is ever in any
damn hurry. People constantly tell me to slow down and smell the roses. “You’ll
miss life if you keep going a hundred miles per hour, young lady,” they say.
In this state, I’m a go-getter when
anywhere else I’d been a lazy lump. Ah, the wonders of living in a small town.
I lower the window and stare up at the
beefcake cop with his wide-browed hat and mirrored glasses.
“Do you know why I stopped you, ma’am?”
“No. Do you?”
“Why yes, I do,” he says, giving me a
toothy grin and showing off his great smile. “Thanks for asking, ma’am.”
While he doesn’t look all that
familiar, something about the familiarity of his tone makes me wonder if he
knows me.
“Was I speeding?”
“No.”
“Then why did you pull me over?”
Straightening his stance, he moves away
from the door. “Ma’am, will you step out of the car?”
My temper is supposedly legendary,
though I doubt most people have heard of it. My younger sisters are known to
run screaming when I’m on my last nerve. This response would be more impressive
if they didn’t react the same way to spiders.
I step out of my silver Chevy Equinox
and stare at the cop.
When I say nothing, he smirks. “You don’t
remember me?”
“Should I?”
Swiping off his glasses, he shakes his
head. “You sure don’t have much of a memory.”
Though I recognize him a bit, I can’t
place from where. I’ve never been the kind of woman to memorize every
attractive man I come into contact with.
“If you’re looking to shake me down for
a bribe, you’re going home empty-handed. If you’re looking for a sexual reward
in exchange for letting me go, I wouldn’t suggest you put your dick anywhere
near me. I can’t promise you’ll get it back in one piece. If you’re just
looking to be a pain in the ass, mission accomplished.”
“I do enjoy listening to you make
threats. Many nights, I think nostalgically about when you scared off Becca at
the fair.”
A few months back, my sister Justice
was having issues with a royal bitch. Justice had fallen for Court Bayer, who
had a kid a decade earlier with Becca Pamton. I adore my sisters, but they
can’t fight for shit. They’d win gold medals in tantrums, but a physical fight
leaves them on their asses. So when Becca made an appearance at the fair with
the plan to start trouble, I stepped in and ran her off.
Part of our little group at the fair
that day was Court’s cousin. I remember Donovan Mooney being rather handsome in
a messy undercover cop way. He’d been wearing a hat down low like he was
incognito. As sexy as I suspected he was, I’d still thought he was an idiot.
After he stops me today, my view of him
hasn’t improved.
“What was your name again?” I ask.
“Donovan Mooney.”
“Nice seeing you again. Bye, now,” I
say, reaching for my car handle.
His body shifts to ensure he blocks my
ability to open the door. Now I could move him, and I bet he’d look sexy as
hell flat on his ass. Unfortunately, I have a sneaking suspicion this cop
wouldn’t approve of anyone disrespecting his authority.
“Why are you hassling me, pig?” I ask
rather than pushing him to the ground and making my getaway.
“I’ve been thinking about you.”
His answer doesn’t startle me half as
much as his tone. Donovan sounds a little dangerous, and I consider how easily
I can get into the car for my pepper spray.
Regaining my ability to speak, I ask,
“And that matters to me why?”
“Because you aren’t seeing anyone.”
“Nice stalking, Porky.”
“Let me take you out to dinner, so you
can get to know me,” he says, leaning against my car.
Gesturing for him to get off, I ask,
“What do I get out of that?”
“A free meal with an interesting guy.”
“Interesting how? Do you have exciting
hobbies or something?”
“Something like that.”
“When you talk creepy, my fingers itch
for my pepper spray.”
“Bring it with you to dinner.”
I consider going out with my
brother-in-law’s good-looking creeper cousin. Dating hasn’t been on my calendar
for years. I once tried caring about a man’s problems and found myself bored to
tears. It was one of the only times I’d cried since hitting puberty.
Still, I’ve been thinking about having
a baby, and Creepy Cop is physically appealing. Tall and wide-shouldered, the
blue-eyed stud even smells good. While I know hygiene isn’t genetic, male stink
gives me the pukes and making a baby shouldn’t involve projectile vomiting.
“Let me ask you something. Does your
family have any genetic problems?” I ask, sizing him up like a piece of meat.
Smiling, Donovan clearly enjoys feeling
objectified. I give him props for not whining like a bitch.
“We’ve suffered for generations with
some mighty painful cowlicks. Do you mean like that?”
“I meant cancer, heart disease, mental
illness.”
“Nope.”
“Are you certain because pulling over a
civilian so you can ask them on a date screams unhinged psycho behavior?”
Donovan grins, making little lines
appear around his eyes. He reminds me of a young Clint Eastwood, ready to ask
if I feel lucky.
“What other choice do I have? I can’t
just show up at your house.”
“You could have asked your cousin.”
“Court doesn’t need to know my
business,” he says in a tone that makes me think he’s shot down this idea a
bunch of times.
“No, you’re right. This harassment is
much more adult.”
“So I’ll pick you up at your place
when?” he asks, reaching out to tuck one of my unruly brown hairs behind my
left year.
“You’ll meet me at a well-lit
restaurant on Thursday. Does that work with your busy schedule, Bacon Boy?”
“Sure. Where?”
“Seven at the Pam’s Pizza. I know
people around there, just in case you get weird, and I need to call in
reinforcement.”
“My department is the backup for your
town, and I don’t think they’ll prove too helpful.”
“I mean my dad’s club,” I say, assuming
he’s well aware how my father Jared Sheerer is a member of the local Rawkfist
Motorcycle Club. “If I need you to go poof, he’ll do the magic trick for me.
I’ll clap, and he’ll take a bow, and you’ll never be seen again. Does that
sound okay?”
A smiling Donovan scratches at a hint
of stubble on his chin. “Are you finished threatening me, ma’am?”
“Almost,” I say, opening my door. “If
you ever use your job to harass me again, I’ll file an official complaint
against you. Are we clear?”
Smiling wider now, he leans back on the
heels of his boots. “That shouldn’t surprise me. Your sister’s a snitch, and
apparently, that trait runs in the family.”
Months earlier, Justice testified
against Becca after the bitch attacked my sister at work. No one in Tumbling
Rock believed in the law or calling the police. Even so, they were all thrilled
when Becca ended up getting two years in prison. Her kids ended up living at
our house including eight-year-old, Otto, who looks to me like a substitute mom
these days.
Now Donovan didn’t likely care about my
home problems. He was looking for a good time. Men always were.
“I agreed to your shakedown, cop, so
leave me alone until Thursday.”
“If you don’t show up, I’ll need to go
full stalker on you. Keep that in mind if your feet get chilly.”
Turning on my engine, I smile up at
him. “Sounds fair, but if you plan to threaten me like that a lot, you might
want to get your will in order. I sense this thing between us either ends in a
love match or me laying flowers on your unmarked grave.”
We’re both wearing grins when I pull
away. I put on an arrogant façade, but Donovan’s left me flustered and more
than a little terrified of what comes next.