Driven to redemption, p.1
Driven to Redemption, page 1
Driven to Redemption (Mannhof 6)
Alice Gaines
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Copyright ©2022 Alice Gaines
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Cover Artist: Angela Knight
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Table of Contents
Driven to Redemption (Mannhof 6)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Alice Gaines
Driven to Redemption (Mannhof 6)
Alice Gaines
Allison Hall swore never to ride a motorcycle again after her biker boyfriend got her hooked on drugs. Now, she’s confronted with a lover who’s also a classic Mannhof bike. Will she learn to trust herself enough to find happily ever after?
Chapter One
The newcomer didn’t fit in. He wore leathers, all right, just like most of the patrons at Smokey’s. Even the women, when women slummed enough to come into a place like Smokey’s. But this guy’s outfit looked as if it was new, not scuffed up like the rest of them.
Allison Hall wiped down the bar from the last idiot who’d sloshed his beer, all the while ignoring the demands of five or six guys yelling out their orders. She’d get to them when she was damned good and ready. They might be the customers, but she owned the place and didn’t take shit from anyone. Once she’d cleaned up the mess, she threw the dishrag in the sink, tossed her braid over her shoulder, and turned to the asshole who’d been hollering the longest and the loudest. “What’ll it be?”
“Fuckin’ A, Allison, what do you have to do to get a drink around here?” Smitty asked.
“I’m here now. What do you want?”
“What do I always want?” Smitty asked back.
“Scotch neat. A double.” She grabbed a glass and turned to the bottle of well Scotch. Smitty would be under a table again, and she’d have to call his wife to come get him. All of them knew to park their bikes in the lot behind the bar, and Allison would lock the yard so they’d be safe for the night. Did they ever thank her? Could a bear grow feathers?
She caught a glimpse of the new dude as she poured the drink. He stood there as calm as if he was on a walk through the forest, listening to the birds. He was damned nice to look at. She’d give him that. With close-cropped dark hair and a strong jaw line. No one that prime came into her bar. All her regulars looked as if they’d been rode hard and put away wet.
She went to the guy. “Can I get you something?”
Shouts came from the other end of the bar. Her regulars she’d been ignoring for… tops… five fucking minutes.
“Beer, bitte… um… please,” the new guy said.
Even her high school German could translate that. She put a glass under the tap, filled it, and put it in front of him.
He pulled out some money and paid for the drink. “Thank you.”
More shouts, and they were getting rowdier. She turned to the crowd. “Shut up.”
A few turned sullen and walked away. She could have sworn she heard the words “on the rag.” As if these morons understood anything about menstruation. Dutch stood there, glowering at her. The quiet ones were the deadliest, so she went to him and took his order.
The new one watched her the entire time, as if she were the most fascinating creature on the planet. She wasn’t bad to look at, but most men found hardness in a woman a real turn-off. That worked just fine. She didn’t need any of them. She’d had a man once, and a whole shitload of good that had done her. She’d rather take celibacy than that mess.
Not that she didn’t have urges. Those exact drives were probably what made the new one so compelling. He shaved, for one thing, even if only to show off his strong jaw.
And he looked gentle. That didn’t make any sense. Something like that didn’t show on the surface, but the feeling stuck, anyway. Who knew how long he would have stood there, waiting for her? And he could order a drink without using the F word.
“You got the hots for that one?” Dutch jerked his head in the direction of the new man.
“Just curious,” she said as she put Dutch’s bourbon in front of him.
“‘Cause if you got the hots, I can take care of that.”
“Dream on, pal.”
Dutch leaned on the bar and crooked a finger toward her. “I’ve got a secret for you.”
She rolled her eyes but leaned toward him.
“I might have a hard-on right now,” he said softly. “Wanna go in the back and knock off a piece?”
She straightened. “I can’t recall when I’ve had such a lovely invitation.”
Dutch picked up his drink and turned to go. “Bitch.”
“Why do you put up with that?” the new man said as quietly as Dutch’s remark. She heard him anyway.
“I’ll be with you in a minute.” She went back to her regulars, or at least, the ones who hadn’t given up yet. For the next few minutes, she poured beers and stronger stuff. The man watched her the whole time. Not predatory, as Dutch might have been. Not even really curious. Just patient. He ought to creep her out, but his interest felt good. Maybe it was her hormones acting up.
He was still there when she got the rest of them satisfied, so she went back to him and stuck her hand out over the bar. “Allison Hall.”
“Kurt,” he replied as they shook.
“No last name?”
“Just Kurt.” He smiled and kind of lit up the space around him.
“Well, Just Kurt, what brings you to my fine establishment?”
“I have a problem I think you might help me with.”
He probably wasn’t going to ask for money, having met her only minutes ago. And if he’d asked why she put up with Dutch’s bullshit, he most likely wouldn’t try something like that, either. “What?”
“I’d rather show you than tell,” he answered.
“I can’t leave here until my relief shows up,” she said. “Another twenty minutes.”
“I’ll wait.”
“Suit yourself.” She turned and went back to her work. The man was probably still watching her. That ought to at least feel odd. It shouldn’t give her gut a nice warmth, as if she was waiting for something good to drop out of the sky. In only a few minutes she’d see if she was imagining things. If he and his problem amounted to nothing, she’d find out then. Lord knew it wouldn’t be the first time a man had disappointed her.
* * *
Kurt watched the woman -- Allison -- navigate her bar. She was a wonder of movement and energy, and he couldn’t have taken his eyes off her if he’d tried. In the dim light, he couldn’t make out much about her complexion, but she had large brown eyes and plush lips. Her most striking feature was the braid that hung thick down the center of her back. What would it feel like to dig his fingers into it and loosen the hair to fall around her body? It might cover her breasts but leave the nipples poking out to tempt his mouth.
Klaus Mannhof had warned him he’d have a strong, physical reaction to her presence, but no amount of warning could prepare him for the urges that had him stiffening in his pants. And that asshole at the other end of the bar had thought to have sex with her so casually. With him, who probably reeked of strong drink. In the back room of a bar whose front room was no place you’d take your mother.
“Knock off a piece.” Disgusting. She deserved so much more, and he was here to give it to her.
She kept checking on him as she worked. She did it out of the corner of her eye, no doubt hoping he wouldn’t notice. But everything about her registered, even her slightest movement or change of expression. Including, of course, her figure. Despite the hard face she showed to all the bikers here, her curves promised nothing but softness. Especially her ass in the jeans that fit her like a second skin. Her T-shirt sported the logo of her bar, and it showed off nicely rounded breasts. Not too big but just right.
She glanced at him again, and this time he met her gaze head on. That seemed to startle her, because she almost filled the glass she was holding at the tap so full it overflowed. She caught herself at the last moment, and he could have sworn she blushe d. That, certainly, had to be his imagination, but at least she didn’t seem to mind his attentions.
The moments stretched on. He’d had little experience with time perception as a human, but twenty minutes had to have passed. He had a little surprise for her, based on what Klaus had told him about her passions. It should still be where he’d left it, but he had no real control over that. If it had disappeared, he’d have to find some other way into her heart.
Eventually, a tall fellow entered the place and went straight behind the bar. Her relief? The two spoke for a bit, and then, she removed the apron tied around her waist and headed toward Kurt.
“You want to go deal with that problem now?” she asked. “My bed is waiting for me. Alone.”
He pushed his half-empty beer away. “It should only take a few minutes.”
“In case you have any ideas… I know how to handle myself around creeps like Dutch. I can deal with you if I have to.”
“I’m not like Dutch.”
“All right. Let’s go.” She led him across the dingy bar toward the exit.
“What the fuck, Allison?” one of her patrons called. “You going home with him?”
“I’m not going home with anyone, asshole,” she answered as she kept right on going.
When, they got outside, a cold breeze hit them in the face, and he zipped up his jacket. In the light of the streetlamp, he could get a better look at her, including the fact that her head barely reached his nose. She’d seemed so much taller in charge of her bar. She also wasn’t wearing a jacket.
“Aren’t you cold?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I only live a couple of blocks away.”
“That’s no answer.” He got out of his own jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
“Now, you’re going to be cold.”
“You’re helping me, remember?”
She clutched the jacket around her. “Thanks.”
“This way,” he said, pointing.
He hadn’t had any plan to take her to a certain box with tape wrapped all around it on a church doorstep when he’d headed toward the bar. Then, he’d happened on exactly what he’d needed. Now, he took her there, and the sounds hit him again.
She heard them, too. “What the fuck?”
“Open it, and you’ll see why I need your help.”
She crouched over the box, tore off some of the tape, and opened the top. The sounds of a dog calling for help grew louder. The animal tried to stand, but its legs wouldn’t hold it. It had obviously been abused, or at the very least deprived of food to the point where it couldn’t lift itself off the bottom.
She reached in and stroked the animal’s head. “What sort of bastard left him like this?”
“I didn’t see anyone. I just found him on the way to the bar.”
“And you were going to leave him here?”
“I headed to the bar for help,” he answered.
“He’s so thin,” she said as she picked him up and cradled him against her chest. “I can feel every bone in his body.”
“I don’t have anything to feed him.”
“I do,” she said. “He’s probably dehydrated, too.”
“I can carry him to your place.”
“We’d better.” She put the dog back into the box. “Let’s go.”
He picked up the box and followed her. She’d been right it wasn’t far away. She stopped beside a locked gate, reached into her pocket, and produced a key. Once she’d let them into a small yard, she relocked the gate and took him up a path toward a tiny house set back a bit from the street. There, she used a different key to open the front door.
The moment they’d stepped over the threshold, a larger dog bounded up to her begging for attention. She bent to give him a hug. “This is Brutus. He barks but he doesn’t bite.”
“Good to know.” He held out the box. “Where should I put him?”
She nodded toward a doorway. “In the kitchen.”
He went where she’d suggested and set the box on the floor. After she’d taken Brutus to a back door and let him outside, she went to the box and pulled the dog out. “What a mess. Take the box outside, would you? I’ll clean him up a little.”
The thing stank, with piles of dog shit on the bottom. He carried it out the back door and deposited it next to some receptacles near the fence. Brutus spotted him but stayed away, probably not enjoying the smell himself. When he got back inside, Allison had wiped most of the mess off the dog.
“He’ll need a better bath in the morning,” she said. “Grab a water bowl, will you? There’s one next to the sink.”
He did as she’d asked, filled the bowl from the tap, and brought it back. The second he’d put the bowl in front of the dog, it started lapping up liquid as if it hadn’t had had anything to drink for days. The poor beast started to tremble violently and probably would have fallen if she hadn’t supported it.
“Just as I thought,” she said. “How long was he in that box?”
“I don’t know. I just went by there tonight.”
“Church was three days ago. He might have been stuck there all that time.”
“I’ll hold him while you get some food.” He took the dog from her and let it continue drinking.
At her counter, she took a can from the cupboard and emptied some of the contents into another dog bowl. Kurt finally took in more of his surroundings. Like the rest of the house, the kitchen was small. But it was spotless, and homemade items gave it a warm and welcoming look. A cover for something on the counter sported a rooster, and framed cross-stitch posters with messages like “Kiss the cook” and “God bless this kitchen” hung on the walls. They did not fit with the woman who had sparred with the likes of Dutch in the bar.
When she returned with the dog’s food and put it in front of him, she and Kurt found themselves crouched so close to each other their noses almost touched. She finally looked at him… really looked at him… and the connection he’d immediately sensed returned. This time, she had to feel it, too, because her eyes widened for a second and then settled into soft shine of knowledge.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Kurt.”
“Is that all, just Kurt?”
There was so much more, but she probably wouldn’t be able to accept it yet. They’d make love soon, and then he could reveal his true self to her. Convincing her she was his mate could take even longer.
“Does there need to be more?” he answered.
She shook herself. “Sorry. I don’t know what just happened.”
He did. She’d recognized him, whether she knew it or not. “I liked it, whatever it was.”
“Yeah, well,” she stammered. “Don’t get used to it.”
He glanced down to see the dog had eaten all the food. “I guess he was hungry.”
After grabbing a nearby dog bed and putting the animal in it, she rose and stretched, arching her back. “He’ll need to go to a vet in the morning. Do you have the money for that?”
He got up and stuffed his fingers into the back pockets of his leather pants. “I can’t take him.”
“Look, Kurt. I don’t know how Brutus is going to take to him, and he hasn’t even seen the cats yet,” she said. “I can loan you a dog bed and some other stuff, but it would be better if he went home with you.”
“I can’t. I don’t have a place.”
She studied him, the innate kindness in her that Klaus had told him about warred with skepticism. She no doubt heard all kinds of strange stories from the customers in her bar. “You’re homeless?”
He hadn’t thought of the situation that way. He certainly didn’t live on the streets the way some people were forced to do. Klaus had had him delivered nearby, and he’d shifted and gone directly to the bar. Klaus had told him he’d be staying with her, so stay with her he would, even if he had to shift back and sit on the street.
“I can take care of myself,” he said. “But not a dog, too.”
“How did you know to ask me?”
“Excuse me?”
“You didn’t talk to anyone else. You didn’t ask if anyone knew anything about an abandoned dog. You only talked to me.”
First, because she would be his mate, and he’d gone into the bar specifically to find her. Second, because Klaus had told him that under her rough exterior, she was a loving, giving person. He’d have to break through the shell to get to the real Allison. But telling her any of that wouldn’t help him. She’d probably kick him out.
