Grasping For Freedom Read Free

and she was only twenty-four years old. She glanced back at the man who instantly had her panting with this badass attitude. She couldn't explain why she reacted so badly toward him. Yet looking at him, he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, and the worst kind of man for her. She didn't need another hotheaded man in her life.
    Torque represented bad news. All tough and dominating, even his looks pegged him as trouble. Longish brown hair swept back rather than brushed. Two days growth of whiskers as if he couldn't bother to shave. She inhaled swiftly, attempting to get control of herself. Broad shoulders, which his leather vest accented, added strength to his no-touch attitude.
    But he'd touched her, and she'd liked it. She needed to figure out a way to hate him.
    She'd spent years learning how to stand up for herself, to protect her weaknesses, and to live independently. None of her reactions to him made any sense.
    "You know, Gladys worked here a lot of years. She ran the bar before Rain bought the business for Bantorus headquarters." Bruce set down a shot glass on the bar. "She was the first person I met when I was delegated to pouring drinks."
    "Is that so?" she mumbled, watching him pour whiskey into the glass.
    "Yep." Bruce slid the glass over in front of Brandy. "I'm also the one who knew that she got through the day by tossing back a whiskey now and then. Drink up, sweetheart. You need the calm."
    "I can't." She eyed the glass, really wanting to wash away all the feelings of turmoil circling her stomach.
    "Go on..." Bruce put the glass in her hand. "If only to wash the taste of Torque out of your mouth."
    She lifted her gaze and met Bruce's wink. Amusement danced in his eyes, but he thankfully didn't say another work about what happened with Torque. She tipped back the drink and swallowed in one large gulp to hide from the truth. Her chest exploded in a blazing ball of fire. She breathed out and sucked in air, which made her cough.
    She accepted the glass of Cola Bruce handed her, and drank half of the liquid before she was able to find her voice. "Thanks."
    "No problem." Bruce winked. "You best go talk with the waitresses and prepare them for the evening crowd. Once this place picks up, you won't have another chance to organize the team."
    "Right." She smoothed her shirt over her trembling stomach.
    Taylor, the petite waitress with adorable brown hair and a scar across her cheek had shown her the back room and where to locate all the supplies during her orientation earlier, stood waiting for instructions with raised brows. Ginger, the outspoken red haired woman who assessed her up and down and forced a fake smile when Rain introduced her, looked everywhere else but at Brandy. They were polite, but standoffish. She'd expected their attitude, because she was new, she was female, and they'd just finished a going away party for a dear friend and boss.
    While she went over rotations, break schedules, and the procedures on what the waitresses should do if they ran into trouble, Brandy kept her back toward the pool table and Torque. The whiskey helped calm her, and by the time she checked in on the cook, took inventory for Bruce, and stocked under the counter, she felt more like herself.
    The evening crowd showed up and settled in at the bar and tables. A cluster of bikers congregated around the pool table, making a sea of leather vests, and making it more difficult to keep watching Torque—which she wasn't going to do.
    Work wise, things were improving for her first day on the job.
    Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She searched for Bruce and found him talking to an older biker sitting at the bar. Ginger sat on a man's lap in the corner, and the way she gyrated, she wasn't paying any attention to anyone else. She gazed at the pool table and found Taylor leaning into Slade, whom she'd met earlier and knew was Taylor's man. With everyone's eyes off her, she hurried down the hallway and out the back door. Only