Relentless Stranger: A Hero Club Novel Read online

  Relentless Stranger

  Inger Iversen

  Copyright © 2021 by Inger Iversen and Cocky Hero Club, Inc.

  First electronic publication: November 28th, 2021

  Print ISBN: 978-1-0879-0155-8

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Editors: Melissa Ringsted| There For You Editing

  Lia Fairchild | Finishing Touch

  Proofreading by: Amy Briggs | Briggs Consulting

  Cover Credit: Iversen Design Co.

  Photo Credit: Wander Aguiar Photography

  Formatted by: Vellum

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Cocky Hero Club

  About the Author

  Relentless Stranger is a standalone story inspired by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward’s Cocky Bastard. It's published as part of the Cocky Hero Club world, a series of original works, written by various authors, and inspired by Keeland and Ward's New York Times bestselling series.

  1

  The sound of Eddie’s fists meeting flesh reverberated in his head and stoked the fire needed inside of him to punch harder, move faster, maim more viciously. After all, this was what the Renegades MC and bar owner paid him for, was it not? Bouncer extraordinaire, and sometimes bartender, Eddie enjoyed taking his frustrations out on foolish patrons who abused the hookers of Blackies Bar and Tavern. Heat overcame him, radiating throughout his body as if readying him for the impending release. The sounds of drunken bar patrons dulled, and the stench of male body odor mingling with the cloying scent of cheap perfume faded, allowing his head to clear for just a moment. His job had placed him in shitty predicament after shitty predicament, and right now was no damned different. He was no longer on parole, but he also wasn’t the career criminal type either. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up in a jail cell…again. Still, working at Blackies fed his need to release a bit of pent-up energy on rowdy assholes who couldn’t comprehend the word no from a woman, because she was a hooker. That shit didn’t fly with Eddie—not now nor ever.

  Fist reared back, lips curled into a snarl, Eddie paused. "Do you need,"—another fist landed—"a warning again?" Lifting his fist again, he watched as the man’s swollen eyes widened, the answer a definitive no. Eddie released the man, allowing him to fall onto the floor in a disheveled heap, and took a step back.

  The bar, which had gone silent as the patrons all watched, began a chorus of bartering for sex and liquor as soon as they realized Eddie was in the final stage of fury.

  Grabbing the nuisance by the collar, he dragged him over to the woman he’d accosted. Eddie shoved the bleeding man forward. "Apologize, now." His tone brokered no room for haggling, and the asshole obliged.

  The woman stood, no trace of fear on her face, and waited. The women who worked the bar nightly normally had no issues. However, there were nights, such as this one, when some handsy idiot made Eddie work for his money.

  Spitting blood to the floor, the man slurred, "Smorry."

  That will do, Eddie thought as he lifted him again and hauled him to the front entrance. With a shove, the man flew and harshly landed on the wooden deck that surrounded the bar. "Stay out. As long as I’m working"—Eddie knelt lower, allowing the man to sense the menace, to feel the threat to his very bones—"I will break your neck if I see you in Blackies again. Are we clear?" Without giving the man a chance to reply, Eddie stood, turned, and re-entered the bar.

  The women had returned to bartering their bodies for rent money, and the men were more than happy to ignore the blood on Eddie’s fists. After making his way to the bar, he pushed the stool aside and leaned against the polished wood top.

  The blonde waitress, whose name he never remembered, sauntered over. "Ice?" she asked, a bar towel filled with ice stuffed in her hand.

  Eddie glanced down at his swollen fists. His skin felt as if it were tight and hot. Reaching for the ice, he asked, "What time’s Robby getting in?"

  She shrugged. "Robby does whatever he damned well pleases, whenever he damned well pleases." Added was a roll of her eyes.

  Robby, the new bartender, came and went at his leisure, and it frequently made Eddie add bartender to his resume.

  Glancing at his watch as he plopped the ice onto his left hand, Eddie stated, "I’m only here for another two hours. I gotta head out early." He swapped the ice to the other hand, more to wipe away the blood than to ice the swollen digits.

  "Shit." Reaching beneath the bar, she pulled out a couple of shot glasses. "I swear, this nepotism shit is ridiculous."

  He gave a dark chuckle, knowing damned well Robby’s preferential treatment had nothing to do with the shared DNA in the blood running through his veins and more to do with the shit he was able to inject into it.

  He moved behind the bar and to the sink. "I’ve offered to talk to Joey." And he had offered several times. However, the bartenders’ fear of the owner held his tongue. He was a hired hand, and if they wanted him to continually stand behind them and protect them, they would have to pay. He was no fucking hero. He’d been told that enough times it stuck.

  Without further conversation, Eddie cleaned up and made his way to the bar. In front of him sat a pale woman, blue eyes full and inquiring.

  Moving closer, Eddie took in her paper-thin skin and sweat-dotted brow. "What do you want?" he asked in hopes of hearing her voice. Bright eyes took him in, lit with the same interest he felt in her. Did she want him or a drink? Clenching the bar with both bruised hands, Eddie leaned in closer. He didn’t recognize her, and in knowing that, he assumed she wasn’t one of the regulars who frequented the bar. She wasn’t selling her soul in this hell hole; however, he sensed her hesitation.

  He shifted closer, taking in her scent and the widening of her eyes. "What do you want from me?" Because this would be the only outcome. He’d seen women like this during his time in the Blackwater Renegades. Women without hope, full of fear and distrust, and on the run. Somehow, they would always find their way to him.

  Pushing away from the bar, he turned, refusing to be drawn in by the fear in her eyes. "Buy a drink or get the fuck out." His harsh, cold tone should have sent her on her way. Should have. But just as with most in her position, he was her last and only choice. Did he not get a choice? He’d left prison assuring himself that he wouldn’t save those who'd lain with men, who promised falsities and lies. He listened as she shifted forward on the stool.

  "Are you—"

  "No." He reached for a shot glass and filled it
with the darkest, most potent liquid he could find on the shelf. "I am not anyone you know, want, or need." He downed the shot and then two more. If his time in jail had taught him anything, it was in times like this, it was better to keep your head down and mind your own damned business. The sound of music and women promising a good time seeped back in.

  Facing the bar again, he moved to the next person. "What do you want?" he asked in a voice that promised pain if the old man didn’t order in the next few seconds.

  "Whiskey, neat."

  Eddie made quick work of pouring the man’s drink while studiously ignoring the woman…even as he felt her eyes on him, searching, pleading for recognition. However, he’d give her nothing. He shoved the drink to the man and made his way down the bar, taking orders while keeping a wary eye on the woman at the edge of the bar. Hands bunched in her lap and her eyes darting around the bar made him nervous. He didn’t like to be nervous; oftentimes, he abandoned all common sense when he felt this way, hence his little stint in prison. And the thought of that small-ass jail cell and shared toilet sobered him right the hell up. Perhaps this time, Eddie wouldn’t be so lucky to have a cellmate he trusted like his buddy Chance. He thought of Chance and his wife Aubrey and their silly but somehow friendly pet goat. As ridiculous as it sounded, Eddie liked the slobbering pet. He glanced over at the blonde waitress wiping down the old, pitted bar. "Hey, that woman over there…" He motioned with his chin as he poured more liquor. Eddie worked hard to sound nonchalant, but from the slight tilt of her lips into a knowing smirk, he definitely failed.

  She took a quick glance in the direction he’d pointed. "Oh, yeah." Her voice sounded startled. "Actually"—she turned to him, confusion in her gaze—"she was in here yesterday, looking for you."

  Barbie. He’d finally remembered the server's name. It was the bleach-blonde hair and the enormous blue eyes blinking up at him that had clued him to her name.

  Eddie stopped all pretenses of work. "What?"

  "Yeah, and I am shocked she’s just sitting there watching you." Barbie picked up her towel and moved farther down the bar.

  "Shocked?" he questioned. "Why?" Women came in looking for Eddie more than he felt comfortable admitting. He wasn’t the settle-down type, but he sure as hell wasn’t buying it either. Working in Blackies around these women who had to sell the most private parts of themselves had taught him a thing or two about women. Not that he hadn’t tried when he first showed up, but the dead look in the woman’s eyes had turned him off and softened his dick. Luckily for him, she understood. He’d still paid, doubling her asking price, but he never looked at a hooker the same again.

  Barbie crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, first off, she seemed real in a hurry to get in and out of here, like she was afraid of somebody seeing or something. Now, she’s just sitting over there, waiting."

  He released an aggravated groan. "What the fuck?" So, she’d shown up the day before and today? He pushed another drink to a patron and then slowly made his way back to the woman.

  “If it’s a fuck you’re after, I get off in thirty minutes. Meet me at my bike…or is the alley out back suitable for your needs?" His coarse tone expressed his displeasure and even a little anger at the inconvenience she placed on him tonight.

  The woman reared back, appalled. "What? Not even close to what I need, asshole." The vehemence in her voice and the disgust in her eyes morphed his irritation into interest. At first, she seemed scared and alone. Now, after his insulting jab at her, fury shot from her eyes.

  He took in a breath and glanced around the bar. The sun would rise, and the patrons of Blackies would quickly scatter. Where would this woman go?

  "That’s all I have to offer. Take it or leave it," Eddie said as he shoved away to leave the bar.

  “Wait,” she called after him.

  He didn’t wait. It wasn’t closing time, but Robby had finally made his way to work less than an hour before his shift was to be over. He could handle any one of these drunks if they decided to cause trouble.

  Eddie found Barbie and motioned to the cash register. “I’m heading out now.”

  Barbie ventured a glance at where he assumed the woman still sat. “How many hours are you owed today?”

  Being paid on a daily basis and under the table allowed Eddie to come and go as needed and keep a low profile. Although—he turned to see the woman gathering her shit to no doubt follow him out the door—women still seemed to wash up on his shore like damned beached whales. Hands out and tears in their eyes. And like a damned fool, he pulled out his old, ratted cape and flew off into a shit ton of problems that weren’t his own. Of course, it was partly his fault. As a member of the Blackwater Renegades, one of the only MCs he knew that worked to helped abandoned and abused women and children, the cut he wore was a promise of hope to some of the people in this town. No matter how hard he tried to stay low, trouble seemed to scent him out of the pack and lay its burdens square on his doorstep.

  With a deep breath, he mentally calculated his due. “Five hundred, but you ain’t gonna find that in the till.” He motioned for the back office. “The safe will have it. Probably with next week’s schedule too. I’ll head back there and get it. I’m leaving the back way.”

  Barbie nodded. “What about your visitor?”

  Without a glance in that direction, Eddie sauntered to the office. “She didn’t want what I had to offer.” He shrugged. “Her loss.” He pushed through the office door and made fast work of grabbing his shit and leaving through the back. The sun’s rays stretched up and past the trees, giving off a dim light. He needed to be at his second post in an hour, but had a ninety-minute drive ahead of him. His job in the MC was straight and to the point. Offer the bars and some clubs around Blackwater protection. The Renegades weren’t like most clubs; they didn’t have a monetary charge for protection. They worked with boons. Which was basically protection in exchange for a favor typically collected sometime in the future. While, the MC didn’t work for cold hard cash, what Eddie did on his free time came at a charge. Like that bartender back there who wanted Eddie to pummel her boss a little. That would cost her a couple hundred.

  Eddie shoved the helmet on his head, buckled it into place, kicked back the kickstand, and mounted his bike.

  What had the woman really wanted, and was she in trouble? If so, there were plenty of men in that bar who would hop at the chance to help her. Most were brownnosers looking for an in with the Renegades. Maybe he’d call in a tip to one of his brothers to come and investigate. Of course, what would he say?

  “Uh, yeah. There’s a woman following me to work asking for my help, and I refused, without finding out what she needs, so I am throwing her off onto you, even though my job with the Renegades is to make sure women like her are safe.”

  Fuck.

  Eddie made to dismount his bike and head back into the bar when a woman’s angry voice caught his attention.

  “Hey, you’re just gonna leave me here?” The muffled sound of the woman’s voice who’d been waiting for him in the bar pulled a growl from his chest.

  Damn, that big-mouthed Barbie. Hell, he was just about to go back in and give her his information and the location of a safe place to stay. He would be a piece of shit if he let his past mistakes stop him from doing his job for the Renegades.

  “What do you want? I don’t have all damned night.” And he meant it. He had shit to do.

  He felt her tug on the Henley he wore beneath the cut. A cool, summer’s night breeze fluttered through her pale blonde hair, allowing him a moment to take in her red-rimmed eyes. Drugs or tears? he wondered.

  Exhaling a weary sigh, she said, “Listen, I don’t have much time, and I’m in trouble—”

  Eddie yanked away. “Christ, woman. Nine eighty-two Lestings Way. Follow the markers up about a mile, and there’s a dirt road that leads well into the woods to the east. Head up there and wait at my trailer. I’ll be home late. Extremely late.” She would be fine there, he thought for a moment
, then added, “It should go without saying, but I’m saying it … Make sure you aren’t followed.”

  Now, she should be fine there. No one in this little town messed with him or his, or anything attached to the Renegades, but he’d never seen this woman before and couldn’t assume the person or people after her were familiar with this town and the protections it fell under.

  A pale blonde eyebrow rose. “Why do you work so often?” Blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Aren’t you with that biker gang? They don’t have a lot of money?” Confusion rang in her voice, and he wondered who had told her about him

  He growled. If she had come hoping for a handout, she would learn the hard way that the MC would make her work for the money. Nothing was free with the MC—you either worked for them, or if you were in the position, you granted them a boon. This woman—he took her in. Ratty, too-big-for-her clothes, her shoes with holes in them, not to mention the free water she’d been drinking at the bar, and he quickly worked out that she was not in a financial position to grant anyone anything.

  “What’s it to you if they don’t?” He started the bike again, and the roar of the engine drowned out her next words. “I’ll be there around three a.m., and I won’t have long before I head to my next post,” he hollered over the sound of the engine and his impending escape from the duty that bound her to him.

  Eddie rode off, ignoring the woman behind him. The moment she'd looked at him with pleading and fear in her eyes, he knew that he would oblige her request for help. He could continue to pretend that his past was no longer affecting his ability to serve as the eyes and ears for the Renegades, or he could get his shit together and get his head back into the game. He needed something to ground him, something to kick him out of the monotonous spiral he currently found himself in.