Mike

The rain starts to come down even heavier now. Burning my skin; they may as well be fireballs falling from the heavens on the no good, low life that is me – reminding me of just where I will go when I die. The roads are becoming nice and slick. It was beginning to get darker, the cooler weather is breezing its way in.

Before I know it, I am idling my bike in front of Charlie's, a hole- in- the- wall bar just outside of Ludowici. The large yellow neon sign is blinking, there are women dressed in clothing that leaves little to no imagination huddling together smoking cigarettes. Filthy habit. I never was one for smoking.

I kick my kickstand down with my boot, switch off Layla, and pad my way to the doors. A small brunette stops me in my tracks trying to coax me into a "fun night" through her puffs of the nicotine. I politely refuse her company; she doesn't seem too upset. On any other night I would have taken her up on that offer – hell, I still might, depending on how much I drink.

I open the old wooden door to the bar and instantly inhale the musty smells of fellow patrons. The dim lighting, stained alcohol on the wooden floors mixed with old peanut shells, and the loud lame country music filling my ears is like coming home. If I didn't have ties here, I probably would never step foot into this shithole.

I find an isolated seat at the bar and Dave; the overweight, bald bartender knew exactly what I want – Jim Beam. I need something to burn down my throat after leaving her there in my driveway. She didn't deserve that. But she shouldn't expect much from me - I think to myself as I grip the glass with the warm liquid inside it, he filled it up to the brim. Thank you Dave. I bring it to my lips – it stings a bit – taking a long swallow, I can feel the hot burn travel all the way to my stomach. I needed that after the hell I went through today.

Going back to school was something I didn't expect. Of course, I am only pretending to be a transfer student, but still, just being around all the drama and teachers with no clue reminds me why I hardly went to school in the first place. Thank God I graduated three and a half years ago, even though the curriculum didn't change much, I am so glad that I don't even have to try for a grade. I never even brought my books around with me. No point. None of it counts. I'm just there to keep an eye on her. To be her bodyguard, I snort. Some bodyguard I am.

She won't listen to me about that shit face, Declan. He's trouble and I know it, I can feel it. That darn girl, is being so stubborn and on this high from the 'I am woman, here be roar' kick. I swallow another hot burn from the bourbon.

How can I get her not to go on that dumb ass date? Or any other date for that matter – at least until this whole Marcus thing is taken care of. It'll be hard to keep an eye on her if she dates, I will end up coming across as a jealous asshole trying to keep her away from all the other boys. Which, I guess, is what I'm kind of doing now...

Shit.

Her Dad made it clear that I am not supposed to actually pursue her, but how else can I keep her from going out with fucking Dylan?

Taking another swig of the bourbon, I groan into the glass. This whole bodyguard thing is harder than I thought it was going to be. I expected her to be this little girl with nothing but trust and curiosity in her blue-grey doe-like eyes and she would just do what I say, but no. She's a spit fire and has a mind of her own. I won't be able to play the nice guy here. She's going to loath me. Perhaps that will make things easier.

"Red! Hey man." A familiar voice calls out.

Turning around, I see Paul. I can't help but smile at the lad walking up to me, I stand from the stool and embrace him in a bro hug. "Hey brother, how are you doing?" I motion towards his chest.

"I'm doing better. Sometimes it hurts and I have flashbacks, but I'll be ok." I am glad that Detective Cobra Cochran carried through on his word. He made sure that Paul would make it through, he even paid for his physical therapy afterwards.

I pat him on the back and ask for him to join me at the bar. He does, even though he's 19, Dave knows he's a part of my crew, so we don't worry about the legalities. He asks for a Coors light and I laugh.

"What?" He asks.

"Only you would order such a weak drink." I smile.

"Hey, I was shot a few months ago, give a brother a break," he nudges me with his shoulder. A more serious tone takes over his voice as I stare into my half empty glass, swirling the dark liquid around. "How is...How is your deal going?" Dave places the Coors can in front of Paul.

I told him. I told all my men. They know how to keep a secret; they were a part of my deal. They were all ecstatic to say the least, except for Paul. He thought it was a bad idea. He couldn't help but feel for the poor girl, she has no clue who I am, who her father really is, and the cyclone of a mess she's in the middle of. He has a big heart and a part of me is not sure why someone with such a big heart would want to be a part of a motorcycle club, but here he is.

"Hell, I don't know. I'm already screwing it all up." I confess.

"What do you mean?" He lowers his head with his voice.

"She doesn't listen to me." It's true, she doesn't.

"What won't she listen to?" He's trying to pry, it's his way of helping.

I take another sip of the burning bourbon and tell him, "There's this twit named Declan. Something's not right with him, I can't put my finger on it, but he wants to take Elena out on a date next Saturday night. I told her not to, I told her that I don't trust him. She only met him today and she already decides to go on a date with him."

My drink is almost gone, I need another one to get through this conversation. I signal for Dave and he preps me another one. I like Dave.

He laughs, "Hey, like you have room to talk. This is coming from a guy that fucks women within minutes of meeting them. At least he's planning on taking her out first." He pauses to take a drink and I lower my head – he's not wrong, a shiver washes over me at the thought of Darren touching her.

"Did you go all caveman on her? Telling her what she should and shouldn't do without actually trying to form a friendship with her?" I glare at him. Letting out a sigh, I bring my hand up and position my thumb and index finger into the universal sign for 'little bit'. Paul rolls his eyes at me.

​"Look, you gotta take this all in in her perspective. You know stuff about her from her dad when he gave you information for this deal. She knows nothing about you. You have a leg up here, you're just a stranger to her." Paul pauses, "You need to get her to trust you, you need to actually try and be her friend." Dave gives me another glass.

​I know he's just trying to help, but I can't be friends with her. Even if I try to pretend to be her friend, I know I won't be able to control myself. She is beautiful, way more beautiful than her Dad led on. Of course, when we were going over the deal, he showed me her freshman year picture, she just looked like a little girl. The girl I saw last night...er...this morning was all woman.

I didn't realize that they moved in so soon, I thought I had more time, so I had to ask her specifically which house she belonged to. If it was across the street, I would have laid it thick on her. It took everything in me not to try to haul her over my shoulder and take her inside with me.

Of course, she's not eighteen yet, so...that would have been bad. It's just a week away – she's practically eighteen. I take another drink. Damn this shit is good. I was proud of myself that night. I was drunk off my ass and I still knew not to sleep with a seventeen- year-old- who's- practically- eighteen.

"I can't be her friend, Paul. If I try to be her friend, I know exactly what will happen. She's already gotten under my skin. She's attracted to me; I know what I do to her and I'm sure as hell attracted to her too. It will just be a mess." I take another drink, finishing the glass this time and like clockwork, Dave comes in for the rescue and gives me another. I gotta give him a very good tip.

​Paul brings his Coors light can up to his lips, takes a swig, and says, "If you're going to keep your end of the deal, you're going to have to try harder. Can't you be friends with a girl without sleeping with her?" He nudges my shoulder in attempt to joke.

​"Ha," I snort. "Never." I smile to myself. I have had my fair share of women... It wouldn't surprise me if she's had a few men. A pang of jealousy chisels its way into my chest. She is gorgeous. I nearly lost my shit when I saw her in that towel and when she walked down the hallway in those painted on blue jeans and a sweater that hung off her one shoulder. It was like her shoulder was begging for me to touch it, kiss it, and...

​"Well," the voice next to me says, and I frown as the memory evaporates by his words. "There's a first time for everything Red, think about it." He finishes his beer and places it on the bar top with a light thud. "I gotta get going. Don't drink too much ok?" He places his hand on my shoulder and I half nod in his direction. I plan on drinking all night. Stupid Jace, he got me into this mess.

​Finishing my third glass of bourbon, I look around this ridiculous bar and spot her. She has blue eyes, blond wavy hair – shoulder length, and pouty pink lips. I shake my head, it's not her. I ask for another and good old loyal Dave obliges.

Paul's words are echoing in my mind like an itch I can't scratch. "Get her to trust you" and "Actually try to be her friend". These concepts are foreign to me, I trust my men and they trust me, but outside of that? I think my mom trusts me, she trusts me to always look out for her and protect her but trying to get someone to trust me because of a job – a job she doesn't know about – feels wrong.

If this were a different situation and I was undercover for something illegal – I can handle that, no one would be innocent in that scenario. But this job? She is innocent. It feels like I'll be gaining her trust in vein. When this whole Marcus mess is over and done with, I'll never see her again – it was a part of the deal. I'm not supposed to have any ties with her when all of this shit is said and done. I take another sip – gulp actually.

​How can I be friends with Elena just to be torn away from her later? I don't take friendships lightly; they are a bond. No one can get through life without friends, they see things that others don't. Friendships are intimate and fragile. If I seriously try to be her friend, even fake it, I'll be dragging her trust through the mud while earning it at the same time.

Damnet.

I should not be caring about this -I've turned into a pussy. She is a job. I finish my drink with one swallow. She is a job. She is a fucking job. I need to think about my men and about myself. She is our ticket. I need to remove myself from the situation. Just be the man she can trust, then I'll just turn it off and she'll be safe.

She'll hate me when I flick her away like a dead fly on my countertop, but she'll be safe, and I'll feel less of an ass for it...maybe. I look back over at the girl with the pouty lips. She smiles at me; I wink at her. It's not her, but she'll do - I need a distraction and by the looks of her loneliness, she does too.