Page 6 of Chasing Kaylee Kringle

No. No. No. The single word repeated in her mind until she realized she was saying it out loud, her hands buried in her hair and tears rolling down her face, memories flashing through her mind.

She’d tagged along with Elasia and her boyfriend, Wyatt Gipson, to a bar called The Den. They were in their senior year of college, and both women were turning twenty-two in the spring. Kaylee knew they didn’t belong there the moment they’d walked through the door. They were kids who had grown up in a quiet suburb in the sticks, and the worst they’d ever done was get stoned by the lake. The various patrons watched them with cold stares, people hardened by life. The flash of a gun in one of the bouncer’s waistbands had her reaching for Elasia’s hand.

“We should go,” Kaylee had said.

Before Elasia could respond, Wyatt scoffed. “I’ll only be a minute. Relax.”

When Wyatt was called to the back room, leaving them alone at the bar, Kaylee wanted to bail, terror ripping through her like a roller coaster off the rails.

“I don’t like this.”

Elasia put her arm around Kaylee, bringing her tight against her side. “I’ve got you, babes. Nothing is going to happen.”

The doors to the back room opened, and Wyatt stepped out with a man in his early forties, a golden shadow of scruff covering his cheeks, chin, and upper lip. Her mom would have called him hot in a Sons of Anarchy way, but as they approached and the older man’s gaze traveled over Kaylee, the urge to shrink away from his perusal flooded her, and she remembered cursing Elasia for making Kaylee wear the former’s black minidress.

“Which one of these ladies is yours?” he’d asked Wyatt, like they were chattel and not people. She snapped out of her fear and glared at him, anger overriding her natural inclination to hide.

“She’s his girlfriend. I’m just along for the ride.”

He’d had the audacity to laugh, a low rumble in his chest, and chuck her under the chin. “I’m Ansel. If you’re ever looking for a real ride, let me know.”

Her skin crawled. “How about when hell freezes over?”

“We’ll see.” His hard stare focused on Wyatt, and he nodded. “We’ll talk soon.”

The next time Elasia had dragged her along, Kaylee made sure to cover up in jeans and a sweatshirt, but the patrons didn’t just watch them this time. Several men approached Kaylee and Elasia, offering to buy them drinks, which they declined. One bald, burly man with a long beard hefted himself onto the stool next to Kaylee and put his hand on her thigh.

“If you’re hungry, I got something you can eat.”

Kaylee slapped him. His murderous gaze locked on her face, and she braced herself for a retaliation that never came.

Out of nowhere, Ansel had grabbed the man’s raised hand, snarling, “They’re off-limits.”

Then he’d delivered a hard left to the man’s cheek, sending a spray of blood across her chest. The other man crashed to the ground in a heap at her feet, and Ansel took the stool next to her, ignoring the man groaning in pain on the ground. The scent of leather and spice wafted off him and over her, suffocating her as he crowded into her space.

“When I was young, my family had sheep. I raised this ram and loved him; he was my best friend. My father had this huge, mean son of a bitch ram who busted through my ram’s enclosure and stomped him. I went out to feed him and found him on the ground with the other ram standing over him, staring me down like he knew what he’d done. My father found me crying and slapped me, telling me to man up.”

He held up two fingers toward the bartender, who brought over a glass of whiskey. After tipping the glass back and taking a long, hearty hit, Ansel set the glass on the wood countertop and finished his story. “So, I went into my father’s shop, I grabbed his claw hammer and beat that old ram to death with it.” A cold, violent chill shook Kaylee as he turned and pinned her with a flinty stare. “I protect what’s mine.”

Ansel dropped several hundred dollars on the bar as he stood. “Buy yourself something nice.”

Kaylee left the money on the bar top, but Elasia picked it up, following her out to the car, talking a mile a minute about what they could do with it. She remembered snapping at Elasia, “You can do what you want, but I’m not spending any of that money!”

After that, Kaylee didn’t want to go to the bar anymore, but Elasia was so in love with Wyatt that she wouldn’t listen, and Kaylee couldn’t bear to let her friend go alone. Elasia’s assurances from the first night at The Den played over in her mind for months. I’ve got you, babes. Nothing is going to happen.

Only she’d been wrong, about many things.

A few weeks later, Kaylee noticed one of the bikers was always on campus and seemed to be following her. She’d told Elasia about it, and the next time Kaylee saw one of them, Elasia approached him.

“Why are you following my friend?”

The man stared at her coldly, and Kaylee recognized him as the one who had put his hand on her thigh. The one that Ansel had punched.

“Ansel just wants to make sure you’re safe.”

“Why?” Kaylee asked.

“Because you’re his.”