Page 1 of Fletch’s Protection

1

Chapter One

Mari

My feet are tired, my back hurts, and it’s not even noon. But the worst thing of all is that Clark Wall is parking in front of the hardware store.

His work truck eases into the spot as he watches me through the window.

The hair stands up on my arms as I ring up a customer’s plumbing order. The bell on the door chimes, and I expect the smell of oil to precede Clark into the store, but it doesn’t.

Instead the scent of fresh mountain air and shaving cream floats past me.

Mr. Smith takes the quarters and mutters, “Well, well. That must be one of them.”

I don’t have to ask who he means. He’s not talking about Clark or the oil workers. Them is what the town calls motorcycle club that took over the old logging camp on the outskirts of town.

The man crossing the store is definitely one of them. He’s wearing a black leather vest over a dark T-shirt and big, tough-looking boots. The patch on the vest declares he’s a member of Mountain Men MC—the mysterious gang who has been coming into town more and more over the last couple of months.

The second time the bell rings, it is Clark and my heart drops to my shoes.

He stops and leers at me with a lopsided, dirty grin on his face. A wave of nausea rolls through my stomach. I can’t shake the feel of his nasty hands on me. It’s been six weeks since it happened, but the memory won’t let go.

“So, you got a boyfriend, huh? Haven’t seen you out with anyone,” Clark says casually as he slowly walks toward me. He’s referring to what I said last time he was in the store hassling me.

“I do,” I clip and for some reason, I keep on talking. “He’s in the hardware aisle if you’d like to meet him.”

Oh my god. Oh my god. I can’t believe I said that.

Clark chuckles. It’s a dark, ugly sound. “Now you make me wonder what that mouth is good for besides lying, Mari.”

God. He’s sick.

With my heart in my throat, I stride out from behind the counter and take the back aisle that skirts along the edge of the store. I follow it to the hardware aisle.

Thank god the biker is there. The first thing that hits me is that he’s bigger up close. Good lord, he looks vicious. There are wicked tattoos are all over this arms, muscles are everywhere, and those skull patches on the vest make him look like bad news.

Which is exactly what I need right now.

He’s looking at a display of bolts, completely focused.

Somewhere in the distance Clark calls, “Oh, are we playing hide and seek? Because I like a chase.”

Gulp. My heart stumbles.

I beeline for the biker. “Excuse me,” I say, breathing erratically. “I know this sounds crazy, but I need a boyfriend. That man is harassing⁠—”

My words die when Clark appears at the end of the aisle. I turn to ice on the spot.

The biker’s hand slides around my waist and he jerks me against his body. I’m locked to him from my nipples to my knees.

A shocked wheeze squeezes out of me as he looks down into my eyes.

“Fuck, I can’t wait til we’re alone,” he says loudly, nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply. “I didn’t get enough earlier and I’ve been hard all morning thinking about you.”

My throat turns dry as sawdust.

“Yes…” I wheeze because I’m incapable of any other words. Yes? What am I saying? I don’t even know what I’m saying yes to.