Hell-Hound Bar

Scarlett

I didn’t stop cursing as I dragged my dead motorcycle down the cracked sidewalk of Shadow Ridge.

The biker town was eerily misty and unfamiliar.

I’d spent part of my childhood in this valley, yet the only thing I could vividly remember was the night my father shoved us into the back of a truck and told us never to come back.

“I found my mate now and she has a son. They are my new family.”

Fuck, I wish I didn’t have to be here.

As a sharp twinge shot through my chest, I suddenly spotted a mechanic’s garage with its bay doors half-open.

Relief washed over me and I dragged the bike the last few yards.

An older man in grease-stained overalls stepped out, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Well now, what do we got here?” He drawled roughly, flashing his yellowed teeth. “Looks like you had yourself a rough ride into town.”

Nodding, I explained the situation and he started inspecting it almost immediately, slowly circling the bike.

After a minute he paused, squinting between me and the motorcycle.

“This ol’ girl and you,” he muttered, stroking it. “Both of you seem mighty familiar. I swear I’ve worked on this exact machine before.”

My heart skipped a beat, but I forced a shrug, trying to play it cool. “It’s an old bike. Probably just looks like a lot of others.”

He hummed, not entirely convinced, and offered to check the gears.

“Well, I can get her running in a few hours, Missy.” He said after circling and touching it for two minutes.

I froze immediately as a sting spread through my heart. My father used to call me that.

Trembling, I bit out at him. “Scarlett, Mister. My name is Scarlett.”

He raised his hands in apology. ”Sorry about that. Yo just…you remind me of someone I used to know. You look like him you know. But he died a few months back.”

When I was staring at my father’s dead body earlier today, I could see how strong my resemblance to him was.

But I’d hope I wouldn’t stick around long for anyone to notice.

Ignoring the old man, I turned my attention to the street while he worked and my eyes caught the old biker bar across from the garage.

The gritty neon sign read: Hell Hounds Bar.

As I stared at the building, my mind wandered back to Chris and Diane.

The image of them tangled together in our bed crashed over me and it felt like the scabs were pulled off my wounds which were still painfully fresh.

I still couldn’t believe Christ would betray me after everything we shared. He was the one who proposed to me and begged me to accept him.

“Only a stupid man with no sense would cheat on a pretty little thing like you.”

The mechanic’s voice yanked me out of my thoughts and I flushed, realizing I must have spoken out loud.

“Oh, no it’s not about me.” I lied, awkwardly waving it off. “I was…just remembering something from a movie.”

Looking away from him, I pulled out my phone and pretended to scroll even though I had zero service.

There was no way in hell I was telling a stranger that my fiancé had been screwing my best friend behind my back and then blamed me for it.

The sheer absurdity of my life suddenly hit me, square in the chest, and a bitter laughter escaped me.

“You alright, miss?” the mechanic said again, concern in his voice.

After forcing out another lie, I realized I couldn’t sit here with my thoughts any longer.

Besides, night was already creeping in and even if he was done with the bike, I couldn’t leave now.

So I asked the mechanic if there was a hotel nearby.

Rising to his feet, he shook his head. “Closest thing we’ve got is a couple guest rooms above the Hell Hounds bar. And as far as I know, the owners don’t take human guests. But you could be lucky.”

A town this size didn’t have a proper motel? Wow.

Left with no other options, I left my father’s bike in his care and crossed the quiet street toward the bar.

Inside, the Hell Hounds Bar was filled, taking me by surprise.

There were a couple of scantily dressed women in tiny cropped jackets and leather pants hanging off the arm of big burly bearded tattooed men.

The metal music drifting of the speakers was so quiet it would be better if it was just turned off entirely.

Ignoring the curious and hostile looks I got, I slid onto a stool at the bar and waited.

Finally, a bartended approached me.

“Two beers, please.” I said without looking up, checking my phone for cell service.

Still no luck. Damn.

The bottles were soon set down before me and I thanked him. As I started drinking, I hoped the alcohol would dull the sharp ache Chris had left behind.

But the empty bar only gave me more space to think.

I felt so lonely. If I was in a bar in the city, there’d probably be enough loud music and chatter to distract me.

Just as I downed my third glass of beer, the low rumble of a motorcycle cut through the quiet.

My brows raised and I glanced toward the entrance just as man walked in.

From his leather jacket and worn black pants, it was safe to say he was a biker.

But damn, was I drunk or he was so fucking hot?

The entire atmosphere in the bar shifted as he stepped through the door.

Tall, brooding and definitely ripped beneath all that clothes.

Heat rushed south of my body and I felt more alive in this moment than I’d felt since I was told my father was dead.

“Alpha,” I heard the bartender greet him as he strolled to the counter and ordered a drink.

When he finally turned his head towards me, my breath caught in my throat.

His eyes were the greenest I’d ever seen and his jawline could cut diamond.

There was a way he held his facial expression that made me unable to tell if he was pissed or just really intense.

As the bartender brought his drink, he finally looked away from me and I felt like I could breathe once again.

Reeling from everything that had happened today, especially with Chris, a reckless thought formed in my mind.

Maybe a six foot tall biker dripping such sexual magnetism was exactly what I needed.

Gathering what was left of my courage, I picked up my beer and made my move towards the mysterious stranger.

But before I got to him, a tall blonde woman slid up beside him and smashed her mouth over his.