The Alpha's Daughter (2 page)

Do as she was told? The hell she would.
Eugene Begley had given her the route to take. All she had to do
was find the means to take it. The cash drawer in the repair shop
and the big old Victory that now sat between her legs provided that
means.

She'd stayed in a rundown motel the night
before. It was old and worn, but it was clean and the old lady in
charge seemed relieved when she paid cash. Gilead was her next stop
and she hoped like hell it wasn't too far. She needed to make a pit
stop and hadn't seen a likely place in miles. If there was one
thing she would not and could not do, it was take a pee in the
great outdoors.

Faint light in the distance and a sign
declared this to be the place she was looking for: Gilead;
population 236 which was crossed out and replaced with various
numbers as new residents were born and old ones died. It looked to
Jazz like dying was winning. She didn't care. All she needed was
gas and a Ladies' room, and directions to the nearest motel.

She rounded the curve and was immediately
confronted with what was obviously the center of this mountain
metropolis; four weathered clapboard buildings set close together
on the left hand side of the road. Only one seemed to be doing any
business. The others were dark and as she slowed and entered the
gravel parking lot, Jazz saw why.

The grocery was closed. The gas pumps were
dark. It was the same with 'Mountain Gifts' next door. The third
storefront had no name, but the door had a fresh coat of paint and
a faint light showed through the uncurtained window, not much more
than a nightlight. The side wall of the fourth faced the road. The
entry was around the corner of the building. It was definitely open
for business and by the vehicles parked off to the side, business
was good. It was your friendly neighborhood tavern.

It was also a hangout for bikers by the look
of the eight custom rides parked along this side of the building
away from the trucks across the lot. They were backed into evenly
spaced slots along the edge of the grass that separated the lot
from the road, ready and waiting for a quick and unobstructed
getaway. Jazz smiled. Some habits were universal.

She also considered moving on. Bikers talked
to other bikers, particularly if there was money involved and Jazz
had no doubt her father would pay big to get his only child back.
Hell, the Victory alone would raise some eyebrows.

Her full bladder argued back and won. She was
a thousand miles away from her father and by the time word got
back, there'd be another two thousand added to that. Anyway, she
was supposed to contact some guy named Goodman. In a place this
small, someone inside was bound to know him. She could use the
Ladies, ask for directions at the bar and be out of there in five
minutes.

She parked the Victory up close to the
building, grateful once more that her size and strength made it
possible for her to handle the weight of the big bike, grabbed her
slouch bag from the rear compartment and slung it over her
shoulder. She walked with confidence and purpose and her long
strides stretched tired muscles. She was thinking how good it felt
to be off the bike as she rounded the corner and ran smack into the
chest of someone walking the other way.

She hit him hard enough to send him
staggering back and his friends laughed.

They were all a little high and they were
definitely the owners of the bikes parked out front. The one she'd
run into had his jacket open to reveal a broad chest encased in a
tight black tee. He had a broad face and a strong jaw that on any
other night might have drawn her attention.

"There ya go, Cho," the tall thin one behind
him joked, dashing her faint hope that this might be Goodman. "You
said you were lookin' for something hot tonight." He wore a gray
hoodie under his leather vest, and baggy jeans, another TV hero
wannabe with his hair slicked back and over greased. It was a hard
look to pull off and this guy didn't do it well.

'Cho' wiped his mouth with the back of his
wrist, looked her up and down and grinned. "Hey, baby," he said in
a low voice Jazz supposed he thought was sexy.

She eyed him up and down, too, and the look
she gave him told him she wasn't impressed. "Excuse me," she said
as she went to move past him.

"Hey now," Cho said and grabbed her upper
arm. "Don't be like that. Why don't we go back inside and I'll buy
you a drink."

Jazz glanced down at the fingers wrapped
around her arm and up into the man's eyes. Who the hell did he
think he was, touching her like that?

"Drink? I wouldn't let my dog drink with
you," she told him, forgetting that a moment ago, she thought he
might be interesting. "Now get your fucking hand off me."

Again, his friends laughed. They made woofing
and barking noises and laughed again at their own perception of
their cleverness. This teasing did nothing to lighten Cho's mood
and he gripped her arm more tightly.

"I don't think you know who you're talking
to, bitch." He wasn't smiling now.

"Yeah," she sneered, "I think I do. Some
crack-assed wolf who thinks he's got something goin' on." Jazz
looked at his buddies. "He don't got shit."

The smiles left their faces and it was then
she realized how much younger two of them were than the man who
held her arm. They weren't much more than cubs, pissed off that she
had offended their leader. The third looked older and there was a
hungry look on his face that said he fed off violence. That
impression was confirmed when he licked his chapped lips and
spoke.

"No man would take that from a fucking bitch
like her. You gonna take that, Cho?" His implication was clear and
Cho took the bait.

Cho now tightened his grip further as he
push-pulled her back to the corner of the building.

Jazz dug in her heels and yanked her arm
back. "Let go!"

"I intend to and you're going to enjoy it."
His hand switched to her breast.

"Goddamned, motherfucking dog!"

Her hands went to the collar of his jacket
and her knee came up. He slid his hips back to avoid the blow to
his crotch, but that wasn't where she was aiming and his forward
bent torso was just what she was hoping for. Her knee caught him
right below the point of his sternum and drove up into the
diaphragm. It didn't reach the solar plexus, but it was enough to
drive the breath from his lungs.

He managed to gasp "Bitch" as he went to his
knees. He reached for her and she turned, letting go of the collar
with one hand only to use it to grasp the outside fingers of his
hand and rip them back.

"You bet your hairy ass," she said beneath
his shout of pain. Jazz let the collar slide from her other fingers
and her bag slip to the ground. In one continuous move without the
slightest hesitation, she brought her hands out to either side of
his head, and then sharply slammed the palms of her hands against
his ears.

He screamed as the air pressure knifed
through his eardrums, but Jazz had no time to take pleasure in the
sound. She felt someone move behind her and moved out from the
building. Step, raise leg, turn, extend leg with heavy boot
attached. Thank you Uncle Moose for teaching a little girl all she
needed to know. Her boot slammed into someone's chest.

Someone grabbed her arm and she swung with
her free fist. It connected with a cheekbone hard enough to hurt
her hand, but not hard enough to stop the back hand that caught her
cheek with enough force to make her see stars. One of them grabbed
her from behind and she lashed back with her elbow aimed at where
she hoped his neck would be.

"Goddamned mother…"

An explosion of ear shattering sound filled
the parking lot and the mighty blast tore one of her opponents from
her and tossed him into the packed gravel. The one who hung on and
took her to the ground with him was lifted by two massive hands and
tossed after his friend.

"Enough!" the avenging storm bellowed as he
grabbed a third party and shoved him hard enough to send the biker
to his knees. He lifted the still wheezing Cho to his feet, spun
him around and gave him a shove toward the road. "Go home, Cho, and
don't forget to tell your father what a big, bad boy you are
picking on defenseless little girls."

"Hey! I'm not a defenseless little girl,"
Jazz protested. She pushed away from the newcomer as Cho turned his
head and spit. It caught her on the cheek, the one that had been
hit and she lunged at him, hands clawed and ready to damage the
biker's smug face. "Oooph."

An iron band wrapped around her middle,
forcing the breath from her lungs when she was lifted from her feet
and drawn back into a chest that felt as hard as granite.

"Bastard," Cho muttered, but he kept moving
in the direction he'd been pushed.

"Yep, and ya'll best not forget it. Now git,"
said the deep and growling voice behind her. She felt the rumble of
it through his chest.

"Keep the bitch. Have your fun," Cho called
back from around the corner. "You'll be sorry!"

"Already am," the whirlwind muttered as he
wrapped his other arm around her waist.

She'd gotten her wind back and was ready to
fight. She wiggled and squirmed and finally swatted at the
unyielding arms that held her. "Put me down!"

"You promise to behave?"

Her answer was to kick his shin with the heel
of her boot. "Get off me."

"I'm not on you, but they would have been if
I hadn't come along."

"I didn't ask for your help. I didn't need
your help." She tried to kick him again, but he was ready for it
and she caught nothing but air.

"Not going to settle down, are you?"

"No!"

"That's what I thought."

Jazz was lifted, turned, and tossed over his
shoulder in a fireman's carry and it wasn't gentle. Before she
caught her breath, he turned and started walking toward the door of
the bar.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" She
pounded his back with her fists.

"I need a beer and you need some ice for that
lip and cheek and if you hit me one more time, you're going to need
some for that rear end of yours because I'm going to wallop it." He
said it the way he'd said everything else since that first shout,
calmly, almost indifferently, as a matter of fact and not
opinion.

"You can't take me in there like this!"

"Don't see anyone to stop me."

Jazz knew he wasn't making empty threats.
He'd do it. "Okay! Okay, you can put me down. I'm calm."

The giant who held her stopped, but he didn't
relax his grip on her legs. "That all you have to say?"

Jazz rolled her eyes and blew out her breath.
"Fine," she huffed. "Thank you for helping me and I promise I'll
behave."

His big hand patted her rear end as if he was
patting the head of an obedient pup instead of her ass.

"There," he said and set her down on her
feet. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

He
held the door for her and she was grateful for the dim light inside
the bar that helped hide her split lip and bruised cheek. It wasn't
crowded and everyone who obviously heard the scuffle outside was
staring at the door to see who entered and therefore who won. There
was a collective sigh and a few nods of recognition. No one turned
away.

"I need the bathroom," Jazz told him, because
one, she needed to use it and two, it was a possible way out.

The giant nodded to the door marked with a
stick figure in a triangle skirt. "There's no window," he said.
"I'll wait here."

Which effectively killed plan B. Jazz did
what she needed to do, checked her bruised cheek in the mirror, and
dabbed the blood away from the corner of her mouth with a paper
towel. She brushed the dirt from her jacket and took a deep breath
before opening the door and nodding to the man waiting with his
arms folded across his chest.

All eyes were on Jazz and the giant as, with
a hand to the small of her back, he led her to a booth at the far
end of the room.

Jazz slid into the booth, her back to the
room, and the giant took the seat opposite.

The giant was the only way to describe him.
He towered over her five feet ten inches and he was broad, with
huge shoulders and a barrel chest. He was immense, but there was no
fat to his bulk. She knew this from having been plastered up
against that granite chest and flat, hard stomach. While held over
his shoulder, her position had given her a bird's eye view of his
muscular backside and long firm legs and she wondered if it was
true what they said about a man and his shoe size, because this
guy's feet were big, real big. They'd have to be to hold up that
impressive body.

His head, however, was not nearly as
impressive as his body unless you liked hair, lots and lots of hair
which Jazz didn't. Well, she didn't mind a goatee or a neatly
trimmed beard and mustaches kind of tickled in the right
circumstances and lots of guys had hair longer than hers… She gave
herself a mental shake. What was she thinking? This guy wasn't long
haired and bearded. He was hairy!

His cheeks weren't shaved and neither was his
neck. His beard sprouted in a bush of yellowish brown wire from
everywhere it could and hung to the middle of his chest. His hair,
the same blond-brown as his beard, grew much the same way. It was
combed back from his forehead and from there it grew in a tangle of
frizz and curls springing every which way all over his head.

It was hard to tell how old he was. There was
no gray in his hair and no lines across his forehead, though his
eyes had a hint of crow's feet at the corners. They certainly
weren't laugh lines.

"Which one did it?"

Jazz jumped. She'd been concentrating on her
bearlike companion and hadn't seen or heard the woman approach.
"What?" But the woman was addressing the giant.