Damaged and the Saint (Damaged #7)
Bijou Hunter
Chapter One ~ Harlow
Vengeance was a dish best served cold. I wanted my payback. Hell, I needed it really. No doubt destroying those who ruined my childhood would feel righteous. I’d never know though. The evil bastards were dead. The monster known as Playboy paid in blood for his sins, yet I didn’t take his life. What could a person do with a lust for revenge they’d never satisfy?
For me, I worked out my anger while fighting in the Thunderdome for money. I also trained at the local martial arts studio three times a week. Every evening, I ran five miles. Every morning, I worked out at the Reapers’ club gym.
I liked to think of myself as a badass, yet I wasn’t sure what to do with all of my cool moves. One goal was to prepare for the big paintball battles at the Johanssons’ place soon. Yeah, I would kick some badasses’ asses.
Even thinking I was nuts, my parents knew they needed to allow me to grow up. If I wanted to embarrass myself, who were they to interfere? Stepping back allowed Winnie to find love. Now my turn had come to leave the nest.
One of my new routines was running through the woods surrounding Ellsberg. The uneven ground made me focus more than running through a safe neighborhood. I’d suffered plenty of setbacks though. During my first outing, a bird attacked me when I startled it. On my third run, a squirrel dropped a nut on my head as I passed under its branch. On my sixth visit to the woods, I lost my balance near the river and toppled face first into a mud puddle. I was quite the badass.
On my tenth outing, I was on fire. Jumping over rocks, dodging low hanging branches, avoiding animals, I felt invincible. Until I raced up an incline and nearly ran into a man.
Scrambling to stop in time, I gawked at the fearsome figure. He wore a gray hoodie over short brown hair, shadowing his dark features. Wide shouldered and tall, he must have been over six four. Even knowing dozens of tough men, I'd never seen anyone so imposing.
Despite my fear, I refused to be intimidated. I rolled my shoulder into his gut. Yet even using all of my strength, my impact met a brick wall. He never swayed or struggled to remain balanced. Like a gnat crashing into an elephant, the attack didn’t even cause him to change his damn expression. He only stared at me as if bored.
I threw a punch he easily brushed off. My kick was effortlessly dodged. Wearing a smirk now, he was no longer bored by me. Now, I was funny.
Less skilled warrior and more ferocious wolverine, I attacked with hard kicks and punches. He dodged, blocked, and pushed me away. So desperate, I even considered shoving back his hoodie and yanking at his hair like we were chicks fighting in high school. Instead, I kicked at his crotch. No matter how badass he was, a shot to the balls would bring him down.
Instead, he snagged my foot before it made contact. For a moment, he held me still before shoving me back onto the ground. I landed hard on my butt and frowned up at him.
“Sloppy move, little girl.”
Pissed at the world and hating all men, I needed to find a way to defeat this scary bastard. The rational part of me that didn't want to be raped and killed decided to run for my life and warn the world an unkillable monster existed in Ellsberg. Lock your doors! Get out the pitchforks and torches!
His dark eyes convinced me I couldn’t defeat him. If I pulled a knife, he’d take it away from me. If I had a gun, he’d steal it away easily. Unable to win this fight, I ran as if my life depended on it.
Up a slight hill, my dad’s Harley was parked on the road. The hoodie guy might have been right behind me, but I refused to look back. I didn’t even slow down when I reached the bike. Once it roared to life, I glanced over my shoulder to find no one following me. I gave myself a second or two to catch my breath before speeding towards town.
I wasn't sure where to go. Home felt like the safest bet, but I couldn’t think about myself. This guy was dangerous. A stranger like him in Ellsberg could be a threat to Cooper Johansson who was the new president of the local Reapers Motorcycle Club. Hell, this guy could be a threat to anyone.
Though I considered he might be a biker from Memphis in town for the paintball games, I immediately blew off the idea. I’d seen the guys coming into Ellsberg and they were all white. The Memphis visitors were also full of bravado as if the next dick-measuring contest was forever on the horizon. The guy in the woods didn’t care if everyone had a bigger dick. He would still win. Defeat wasn’t an option for him.