He told himself it didn’t mean anything every time she gifted him with a glance. But he needed to remember that this bar was just another stop, and just another night. When he finally got up to head back out to his rig, there was a part of him that didn’t really want to go.
The cold night air hit him first, biting through his jacket as he crossed the gravel lot. His breath came out in puffs of white under the dim security light. He did a quick walk-around of the truck. It was a ritual of his, and when he found the slashed tires, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Two tires had been slashed clean through. He couldn’t pretend that it was a slow leak, or even a nail. It was definitely something done by a human who was probably wielding a knife, but the question was—why would someone target his truck? He wasn’t from around there. Hell, he was just passing through, so why slash his tires?
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered to himself, crouching to get a better look. The cuts were deep—almost professional looking, almost. Someone wanted him to remain stuck in the small Alabama town, but why?
He stood there for a long moment, his jaw tight, scanning the dark edges of the lot for any signs of life. Nobody was out there now. Whoever slashed his tires was long gone by now. But he was stuck since his rig wasn’t moving anywhere until he could get new tires—and the shop in town was definitely closed for the weekend. Hell, as he drove through town earlier, everything in town seemed to be shut down, and the idea of being stuck in the little backwards town plain pissed him off.
Beast straightened, brushed his hands on his jeans, and turned back toward the bar. If he was going to be stuck for a few days, he was going to need to secure a place to stay because the last thing he wanted to do was sleep inside his truck cab if he had the choice between that and a nice, warm bed. Inside the bar, the air felt thicker now. There seemed to be more people, the music was louder, and the laughter didn’t quite reach the corners of the room. Belle spotted him the second he came back in, brow furrowing as he strode toward the far end of the counter, where a group of bikers sat clustered around a table.
One of them looked up—a big man with silver threaded through his dark beard and a cut that said Savage—President stitched across the chest.
Beast stopped beside him. “You Savage?” he asked, feeling like a fool. Anyone who could read would know that the guy was Savage.
The man looked him up and down before nodding once. “Depends on who’s asking.”
“Name’s Beast. I’ve got a rig out in your back lot with two slashed tires. Figured I should let someone know before I start throwing around accusations.”
Savage leaned back in his chair, assessing him. “You passing through town?”
“Yeah,” Beast breathed. I stopped in for coffee, not trouble, but that seems to be what I’ve found. It looks like someone slashed both my tires.” Beast stood over the big biker and waited him out.
“Trouble’s easy to find around here,” Savage said, tone calm but pointed. “You piss anybody off tonight?” He had kept to himself tonight, like most nights, so pissing someone off hadn’t happened as far as he knew.
“Not unless your bartender over there is going to get me jumped for ordering caffeine,” he joked, but Savage didn’t seem to find his joke funny at all.
That earned him a low chuckle from Belle, who’d come around the counter to stand near them, arms crossed. “He’s telling the truth. Guy’s been nothing but polite. And up until ten minutes ago, he’s been sitting at the bar drinking that sludge we pass off as coffee.”
Savage looked between them, then nodded. “All right. Probably some punk was just looking to make a statement or something. You’re not going to get those tires replaced ‘tilMonday, though.” Beast already figured that he was stuck until sometime on Monday.
Beast blew out a frustrated breath. “I figured about that much,” he admitted. He chanced a look back at Belle, who was still watching all of them. She seemed interested in his circumstances, and he wondered why that was.
“You can crash upstairs in one of the empty rooms above the bar,” Savage said after a pause. “We keep a few rooms open for patch members and friends for when things get a bit too rowdy around here. You’re neither, but Belle says you seem like a good guy, so that’s good enough for me.”
Beast wasn’t sure who he should thank—Savage, or the sexy bartender. “Appreciate it,” he said. I’ll pay for the room.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Savage said. “Just don’t bring any heat here, and we’ll call it even. I don’t need any trouble in my club. My guys seem to find enough of that on their own.”
Belle tilted her head toward the hallway behind the bar. “Come on, I’ll show you the way,” she said.
He followed her through the narrow corridor, up a set of creaking stairs that smelled faintly of smoke and old whiskey. The upstairs hall had a row of doors; each marked with a faded number, and she stopped at number three. “It’s not fancy,” she said, handing him a key, “but it’s clean, safe, and warm. You have fresh sheets and hot water—you just have to give it a few minutes to warm up.”
He met her gaze and nodded. “It’s more than I expected,” he admitted. “Thanks for putting a good word in for me with Savage. I’m not sure why you did that, but I appreciate it.”
Belle smiled a little, that same soft curve of her lips that had caught his attention earlier. “Guess it’s your lucky night, Beast. And no problem about putting in a good word with Savage for you. We might not know each other, but I’m a pretty good judgeof character. I think I’m right about you, Beast—you’re a good guy.”
He huffed out his laugh. “I don’t know if getting my tires slashed qualifies me as lucky.”
“Maybe it does,” she said, eyes steady on his. “Depends on what happens while you’re stuck here in town.”
BELLE
Belle was almost done wiping down the bar when she heard boots on the stairs. The sound was heavy and deliberate—too steady to belong to one of the drunk regulars who sometimes crashed in one of the rooms upstairs.
She looked up just as Beast stepped into the light. He looked the same as he had earlier—broad-shouldered, road-tired, and carrying that air of quiet watchfulness she’d noticed the moment he walked in. But now, with most of the guys gone, and the music on the speakers humming something low and sexy, she could take the time to really study him. The shadows softened the sharp edges of his face, and there was something in his eyes that didn’t quite match the rough exterior. She wasn’t lying earlier when she told Savage that Beast seemed to be a good guy. She could see it in his eyes, not that she’d tell any of the guys that, for fear that they’d never let her live it down.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, tossing the bar rag aside and nodding to the barstool in front of her.
