Curvy Temptation by C.L. Cruz
Chapter 3
Ranger
Idon’tlikeit.
A single mom, a woman on her own, buying a gun to protect herself and her kid?
Something doesn’t feel right, and if I learned anything during my years of service overseas, it’s to trust my gut. My instincts are what kept me safe, and now, they’re telling me to do the same for Willow.
In just the short time we spent together, she reminded me of what it’s like to want more than to just survive, which is what I’ve been doing for a long time now. Despite whatever she’s going up against, she’s still trying to make a better life for herself and her son. And she makes me feel more alive. Yes, she’s sexy and curvy, but she also has a heart of gold that I want to protect.
I weave through traffic toward the Veridian Motel just a few minutes after Willow pulls out of the Hughes Auto lot. The Volvo stays a few blocks ahead of me, and when I pull into the parking lot of the motel, I spot it already parked near the rooms in the back. I back my Harley into a space nearby and watch as one of the doors on the first floor opens. I get a glimpse of Willow, her arm around a little boy with her same golden hair. I cut the engine on my bike so I can hear them.
“I owe you,” Willow says to Chastity as the woman steps outside. I know her because she hangs around the clubhouse sometimes, picking up bikers. I don’t mind; she does what she has to do to get by, and if my guys are desperate enough to pay for pussy, it’s on them.
“I don’t mind,” Chastity replies, chomping on her gum. “Max is teaching me all about forts.”
“It’s Fortnite,” the little boy huffs at her.
Chastity laughs, ruffling his hair. “Right, that’s what I said.”
He rolls his eyes, but he must not be too annoyed because he hugs her. “Thanks, Chastity.”
She crouches down to return his hug and then stands back up. Willow’s eyes warm with obvious love for her son as she smiles down at him. It’s a look that tugs on some deep longing inside of me, one I’ve done my best to ignore my entire life.
“Again, I’m sorry to be so late,” Willow says to Chastity.
Waving it away, Chastity asks, “Did you get what you needed?”
A small, bashful smile creeps across Willow’s naturally pink lips. “I think so.” And I get the feeling she isn’t talking about the gun.
“You have my number,” Chastity says, turning when she spots a Lexus pulling into the parking lot. “Call me if you need me.”
Willow closes the door, and I watch Chastity trot over to the luxury vehicle, her platform heels clacking against the pavement. She leans in the passenger side window to chat with the driver, and a few seconds later, climbs inside.
Once they leave, there isn’t much activity. But I stay by my bike, waiting, my gut still roiling anxiously.
At around lunchtime, the guy at the front desk turns the sign on the door to AWAY and walks toward the back of the motel. He doesn’t look threatening, with his too-tight khakis, too-big glasses, and male-pattern baldness, but my uneasiness ratchets up as he approaches Willow’s door.
He knocks, and Willow must say something through the door because he scowls at the peephole before pulling a ring of keys out of his pocket. He thumbs through them before finally sliding one into the deadbolt above the doorknob. The door swings open, and he steps into the room.
Shit.
I jump off of my bike and run across the parking lot, catching the door to Willow’s room just before it swings shut. I shove it open and take in the scene inside.
Willow is standing in the middle of the room, her new gun gripped in both hands, just like I showed her, pointed at the front desk clerk. He’s just a few feet inside the door, his hands held up innocently at his sides like he hadn’t just forced his way into a woman’s hotel room. Willow’s son is nowhere to be seen; he must be hiding, maybe in the bathroom or closet.
“Ranger?” Willow gasps, confusion furrowing her smooth brow.
The guy looks between Willow and me, his face turning red when he spots the black leather cut with angel wings on it, the “President” patch beneath them. Taking advantage of his surprise, I step into the room and fist his shirt in my hands, slamming him back up against the wall.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” I demand.
“Who do you think you are?” the man sputters. “This is my motel and my employee, which makes it none of your business.”
“Willow is my business,” I answer without thinking about it. “And your motel is on Raging Angels territory, which makes it mine, too.”
His mouth opens and closes a few times before he manages to squeak out, “That’s bullshit.”
“Ranger?” Willow repeats.
I glance over my shoulder to look at her, and that’s all this douchebag needs to jerk himself out of my grip. He shoves me backward. I stumble but come back up swinging, landing a punch neatly across his jaw that sends him to the floor. I nudge him with my toe. He’s out cold.
Good. It’s less than I wanted to do to him but better than he deserves. He’s clearly scum and shouldn’t have access to any woman, but especially not this woman. The woman who I’m quickly coming to consider mine. No one will touch her while I’m around. And to make sure of it, there’s only one option.
This time, when I turn back to Willow, I hold out my hand. “You’re coming with me.”