Romance: Abducted for love ( Bad Boy BBW BWWM Romance)

  © Copyright 2016 by (Amanda Horton) – All Rights reserved.

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  Abducted for Love

  BWWM Bad Boy Romance

  By: Amanda Horton

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  Abducted for Love

  It had been a hot, sunny day that was turning into a sticky night. The waves lapped the shore in a lazy fashion, as though they too were tired from the long day. Claire Underwood ran along the boardwalk ignoring the ocean. It was quiet this time of the evening—being too late for the daytime folk and too early for the night dwellers—but she was late for her shift, and her boss, Charlie, took exception to that.

  The sign above Cool Joe’s was blinking into life as the sun finally began to dip below the horizon, slowly plunging New York into a merciful darkness. The heat wave had, so far, been unbearable. Hot enough to melt the asphalt, her father would say. Claire smiled at the memory. She would have to stop by the house some time…then again, maybe not.

  With a wave to Nick, a tall Roman god of a boy, who was tending the outside tables, Claire ducked into the stifling, beer-scented, interior of Cool Joe’s. Established in 2017, this was the oldest bar – restaurant on the boardwalk. It had a fine history and had managed to send land developers packing whenever they came knocking. In fact it was practically an icon, and Charlie kept the place buzzing by employing staff that looked more like models than bartenders and waiters.

  Of course not all of Cool Joe’s neighbors had been lucky and many of the old places, including the amusement park, had closed down. Now ugly holiday apartment blocks rose, so close to the ocean that some of them even boasted rooms below the water line, for those who could afford a truly ocean view.

  “You’re late,” Charlie sneered. He was a short man with a hanging paunch that his belt would never circumnavigate. His staff shirt, a light blue golf tee with Cool Joe’s silk-screened on it, was sweat-stained and he smelled of cigars.

  Claire rushed behind the bar, aiming to shove her bag under the polished wood top, but Charlie’s hand closed over her arm.

  “You’re not tending my bar looking like that,” he said and let go of her. “Go clean yourself up. My customers want pretty girls, not ones that look like they just ran The New York Marathon.”

  “Wow, Charlie you’re in rare form tonight,” Alicia, a tall woman with blue hair and big-boobs, sneered as she poured the one customer at the bar his beer. “Give her a break, huh?”

  “I’ll do more than that!” Charlie said.

  Recognizing the spat that was about to ensue between the two lovebirds, Claire ducked into the bathroom. Turning to the mirror, she looked at herself critically. Only twenty-five and she had bags under her eyes—actual bags. She prodded one with a long finger. Then, she lifted her handbag onto the side of the sink and rummaged for her make up.

  “You have the best skin.”

  Claire looked up, startled and saw Jenny emerging from a cubicle. She was very tall and muscular, and up until recently, she had answered to the name of “Jonah.”

  “Hi Jen,” Claire said, pulling her eyeliner out of her bag and dragging it under her left eye.

  Jenny stood behind her, her eyes roaming over Claire with obvious envy.

  “You know if I looked like you, I would never wear these silly staff shirts like that,” Jenny said. “And I would totally do something else with my hair. I mean, it’s soft and such a rich black, it’s beautiful. Really! And those green eyes! How did you get those anyway? Your dad is…”

  “Yeah, he’s black but my mom is Greek, I got them from her.”

  “Good, because you didn’t get enough boob,” Jenny said. “Of course if we just do this,” and she grabbed Claire by the shirt, rearranging it a little so that it no longer hung like a limp sail and revealed just enough cleavage. “There. That should get you extra tips tonight. Now don’t tie that hair up darling. Let it be free.”

  Jenny smiled at her and flounced out of the room. It was strange for Claire, but in Jenny’s presence, she always felt like she was the man in the room. She sighed. This was it. This is what her life had become: getting all dolled up to serve alcohol to people who would never know her name. What a waste. Oh well, it was work, and that was hard to come by. So Claire ignored Jenny’s advice and tied her hair up letting her long ponytail hang down between her shoulder blades. She was damned if she was going to overheat just for extra tips.

  Fixed up properly, Claire returned to the bar and dumped her bag. Charlie ran an eye over her face.

  “You happy?” she asked him.

  “Yes,” he said. “Now sell your ass off. I want a record night.” ***

  The bar filled up. It was a young crowd tonight, full of excitement and wanting cocktails more than beer. So Claire was up to her armpits in peppermint liqueur, Jägermeister, and something Alicia was mixing called Golden Bowls, that had just about everything it them except the kitchen sink.

  The music was loud and rocking with one of Claire’s favorite bands, The Juniper Blossoms, playing their hearts out on the little stage Charlie had set up for the summer. Voices tried to rise above the din but after years in this bar, Claire could just about read the patron’s minds and the sales were ringing in making Charlie smile, and the tips were raining down making the staff smile.

  A world of swirling color slid around Claire all perfect and familiar. But there was one off note in her harmony. It took her a moment to realize that it was coming from the far end of the long bar. Seated in the corner, dragging a strange darkness with them were two men.

  One look was all it took to know that they were brothers: the same high cheekbones and strong jawlines, same lips and thin noses. But there were differences. One was bigger, more muscled under his black t-shirt. This one seemed to radiate an air of barely contained energy like he might jump out of his skin at any moment. The other was smaller. He sat on the bar chair like he owned it and had sat in it for years. He had a friendly ease about him that made Claire just about tackle Alicia to the floor so she could get to them first.

  “Go ahead!” Alicia said moving behind Claire her hands up in surrender.

  Claire stumbled, crashing into the side of the bar in her haste to reach these two mystery men. The smaller one smiled, turning the most beautiful blue eyes on her. Claire tried to recover but those eyes were pulling the blush up her body from her toes. Oh God don’t you dare Claire, don’t you dare.

  “So what’ll it be?” she asked using the tried and tested bartender line from antiquity.

  “What beer do you have on tap?” the smaller man asked. His voice was like syrup, golden and delicious. He had a faint accent that Claire couldn’t place.

  “Well, we got Millers, Heineken, Kilkenny, Guinness and the house craft beer.” Claire rattled them off, her gaze locked with his. Her elbows thudded on the bar as she leaned in handing him a menu. “They’re all on here.” She smiled.

  “What is this Craft Beer?” the bigger one asked turning. Claire swallowed. Where his brother was smooth and refined this one was raw. He turned piercing blue eyes on her and then smiled the same hypnotic grin as his brother.

/>   All her thoughts ran out of her ears. “Um…it’s made here. Charlie brews it in the basement actually.” She tossed her head on one side. Jed leaned in holding the menu up but not looking at it. She could feel his eyes slipping to her neckline. Thank you Jenny for the extra cleavage. “It’s a light beer; local; smooth; very tasty. Once you’ve tried it, you’ll never want anything else.” Claire purred and somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered what the hell she was doing.

  “Mmm, I’ll have a Guinness, and my little brother Jed here will have a glass of milk,” said the bigger one. His accent was heavier, sounding very Eastern European.

  The smaller one thumped his brother on the arm. “Don’t listen to Lance, he’s full of crap. Smooth and tasty, you say,” he licked his lips. “Never want anything else, eh? I’ll try the craft beer.”

  Claire realized she was just leaning against the bar, staring. She managed to snap herself out of it.

  “Coming right up,” she chirped and pushed herself slowly off the bar. As she walked away to place the order she turned to glance over her shoulder. Jed was still watching her. She put a little extra swing into her hips as she walked back down the bar to the barrels.

  Away from the brothers she gulped fresh air and felt intensely grateful to be pouring something simple. But her hand was shaking anyway and she ended up with far too much foam on the Guinness, and not enough at all on the Craft.

  What was this effect these men had on her? It was almost feral. She had just about thrown herself at them across the bar. She was going to have to exercise more self-control. Flirting was fine, it was part of the job, but blatant sexual desire…she might as well hang a sign around her neck saying desperate.

  Claire gripped the drinks like a barrier and placed them down in front of Jed and Lance.

  “What’s your name?” Lance asked as he took the tankard from her. His fingers brushed hers and Claire felt her heart skip.

  “It’s Claire,” she said smiling.

  “It’s beautiful,” Jed said taking his tankard too.

  Claire smiled back, feeling things stir inside that she hadn’t felt in a good long while.

  Then Jed pulled out a wallet. Claire hadn’t seen that in ages. Everyone had a Pay-Chip now and cash was almost obsolete. But he held out the notes to her and smiled. She took them and made change and held it to him hoping his fingers would brush hers. He shook his head.

  “Your tip,” he said and winked.

  Lance chuckled and said, “I’m sure that you are a fabulous hostess Claire, and will keep the drinks coming tonight alright?”

  Claire nodded. “As you say.” The brothers turned from her, though Jed’s eyes rested on her a moment longer than Lance’s did.

  Claire went back down the bar to her other customers feeling bewildered and hot. She kept slipping surreptitious glances down the bar at the brothers when she was busy with other customers, unable to stay away too long. They were like a drug and after a while it began to scare her. There was something different, something intense and unfamiliar about them. They seemed hungry in a predatory way that made her want to run both to and from them at the same time. It was beginning to give her a headache.

  ***

  The evening wore on and became a thick, very sticky night with no breeze to speak of. Claire was sweat soaked and exhausted by the time Charlie decided to call last rounds. Half an hour later Claire was all cashed up and out the door feeling more listless and like she’d lost something than ever before. The brothers had been the last ones out, thanking her for her excellent service and slipping her a few hundred-dollar bills as they went. Who were they? And why did she want to see them so badly again?

  Claire stood for a moment outside letting the cooler night airflow over her hot skin. She wanted to take a bath for the next year. Maybe that would clear her head. Her feet ached and suddenly she realized she hadn’t eaten at all and was famished. Her apartment was just up the street and on the way was Julio’s Taco truck the perfect late night food.

  She turned to her left to walk down the boardwalk passed the over-priced hotels, when she noticed movement in the dim light of a lamp. The light was flickering on and off as though the bulb was just about to blow. Under it, their heads together looking at something were Jed and Lance.

  Her heart did cartwheels. Were they waiting for her? Oh God what if they were waiting for her? She wasn’t stupid. She’d lived here for a long time now and this situation seemed fishy. What were they still doing here? What were they looking at? Claire hesitated.

  Newspaper headlines flashed in her fore brain. All of them recounting the tails of girls who should’ve known better, should’ve read the signs and known that their doom was imminent. Was she setting herself up to be one of those girls by wanting to blindly run off with two total strangers?

  Charlie was still in Cool Joe’s. All she would have to do was go back through the doors and she could leave with him. That would be the sensible thing to do. Flirting behind the bar was perfectly acceptable. It was part of the experience and no one took it seriously. But here outside in the dark with nothing but a few yards between them… this was a different world. Claire knew too many stories, and patrons hanging around outside the bar, waiting for you, were nothing but trouble.

  But they probably weren’t out here waiting for her. They were probably consulting a map since they seemed to do things old school style. They weren’t local so maybe they didn’t know where their hotel was from here. Should she offer to help them?

  And if she did and that spell came over her again, and she woke up in a strange hotel room with nothing on but the sheet? Then what? Claire knew she was over thinking this. Really they were nice guys. They seemed really nice. I’m sure that’s what all those murdered girls would say, her hindbrain scolded her. The last thing Claire wanted to do was die outside Cool Joe’s. Her obituary would be the most boring ever written. Claire Sofia Underwood died outside the bar she worked at. So much potential, sadly never realized.

  She sighed and turned her head looking the other way up the boardwalk. She could go that way and avoid the whole thing. There! But it was dark and mostly deserted the other attractions being for the daylight hours. There was just one person walking towards her and dressed in a trench coat in this heat, he looked creepier than Jed and Lance could ever be.

  The brothers were having a heated discussion, their voices rising in the still night air. They were speaking a foreign language and Claire couldn’t understand a word, but she knew a fight when she heard one. They probably wouldn’t notice her if she walked by really fast.

  Trench coat guy was almost at Cool Joe’s far corner now and he gave Claire the willies, so she began to walk down the boardwalk toward Jed and Lance. She slipped her hand into her purse and felt around for the little canister of knockout gas she had bought for just such occasions. It was somewhere in there, but her questing fingers couldn’t seem to find it. Why did she carry so much junk?

  Never had the walk away from Cool Joe’s taken so long, or felt so perilous. Claire felt her heart beating double time, as she seemed to inch her way down the wooden slats, her hand still searching her purse for the ever-illusive protection she carried.

  Not far now. Not far. Just keep going. Don’t look at them. Just walk like you’re not worried at all.

  The argument was getting louder but Claire kept her head down. And then silence, nothing but the sound of her shoes on the wood. Shocked Claire looked up. Jed was there, in front of her. She hadn’t seen him move. His eyes were glowing in the darkness fixed on her and Claire stood still, like a rabbit in headlights. Her heart hammered in her chest, her knees going weak. She thought in a moment of added panic that she might wet herself. Those eyes were not normal. They were not human! Her fingers moved in her bag and closed around something cold and metallic.

  Then there was a blur of movement. An arm grabbed her around the waist and spun her backwards and down to the ground. Claire cried out in alarm pulling her hand out of he
r purse and pressing the plunger furiously. The air filled with the smell of flowers. The arm let go of her and a gruff voice she didn’t recognize said “Stay down!”

  Shaking Claire lay on the wood. She was half behind a big metal trashcan. She pulled herself into a ball and clasped her hands over her ears. She could hear growls and bangs. There were screams and something clattered to the ground near her. Then something else, small and wet landed on her legs and she tried to make herself smaller. A terrible smell filled the air, like liquid metal and Claire realized it was blood.

  “Oh God! Oh God!” she repeated over and over. “It’s not real! It’s not real!”

  With a thud next to her, Claire opened her eyes. She looked into the anguished face of a man about to die. He was pale and his clothes were soaking through with red. It was too much for her. She stood up, and ran.

  Around her things whizzed through the air. Growls and grunts, thuds and booms filled her ears to overflowing. Figures darted faster than she could see around her. But all she wanted to do was go home. The urge to not be there anymore was so strong that Claire would have crawled over a heap of dead bodies to get away and not even have noticed.

  But suddenly something growled right next to her. Something huge and black was standing there. She spun, pressing the plunger on her still clasped canister. The air filled with the scent of flowers again. She got a glimpse of fur, a muzzle and then something landed heavily on her head, knocking her to the ground. The world swam sickeningly, and darkness rose like a merciful angel to claim her.

  ***

  Daylight slid gently into the room through a slice in the curtains. Claire watched dust motes hover and glide on the faint air currents and for a moment the world seemed peaceful and quiet. Then she heard voices in the next room. She couldn’t’t quite make out what they were saying but they seemed sort of familiar, but not and far away.

  Claire lay in a warm, fuzzy daze for a few minutes until she realized that the ceiling wasn’t hers. She looked at the curtains. They had a yellow pattern of flowers on them. Then she looked down at the covers that matched the curtains. She sat up in alarm. This isn’t my apartment! And immediately lay back down again. A wave of nausea ran over her like a runaway truck. Gulping air she tried to force the bile back down.