Vindication: A Motorcycle Club Romance Read Free Page A

adrenaline.
     
    Immediately, Bridget assumed she had
stumbled onto a robbery. She knew old people were frequent targets, but she was
shocked to see someone here at Shadyside. It had been a long goddamn time since
she had been in a fight, but she was ready for it. She realized her fists were
already clenched, and some part of her brain had already planned on how she
would maneuver out of her messenger bag before she struck. This asshole had
picked the wrong day to try and mess with her family.
     
    As she squared her feet, Bridget took
a deep breath. “I’m not going to ask you again, shithead. What the hell are you
doing in here?”
     
    He looked her over, his eyes
lingering over her breasts, and for some reason, her fists—yet he seemed
completely unconcerned. “Valhalla, you’ve sent a Valkyrie for me, after all
this time?” said the man in a quiet, excited voice.
     
    “Does this have to get ugly?”
     
    “Whoa, hey,” said the man, raising
his hands up in surrender. Bridget saw a shiny glint in his right hand.
     
    “Are you in here stealing from
old people?” she spit, taking two hard steps toward him. He had a good four
inches in height on her, but in that moment, she was fearless.
     
    “No!” he said, actually sounding
insulted. He didn’t move back when she approached, but he did keep his hands
up. “What am I, some piece of shit meth addict?”
     
    Bridget reached out and flicked the
black leather biker cut lying on his muscular chest. When she looked up at his
face with accusatory eyes, his eyebrows were raised, and a tiny smile teased at
the corners of his mouth. What was that—surprise? No… amusement.
     
    That only made her angrier. “Wouldn’t
be much of a stretch,” she said, holding his stare.
     
    “Are you saying all this bulking up
I’ve been trying to do isn’t working?” said the man. He looked, concerned, at
each of his biceps. “If I’m skinny enough to be mistaken for a meth addict,
shit… I knew that guy at GNC was talking out of his ass.”
     
    Bridget followed his gaze to his arms
and found herself instantly disagreeing with his assessment. Even though he was
on the lean side, there was not a single problem with how he had bulked up. His
biceps were cut, stretching against the thin white cotton of the short-sleeved
shirt underneath his vest. No, nothing about him suggested he was an addict of
any kind. In fact, now that she got a better look, he actually looked
incredibly healthy… and handsome.
     
    Hey. Focus. Dangerous
stranger in your grandfather’s room, remember?
     
    “What’s in your hand?” she asked.
     
    He lifted up his right hand and
revealed the lighter her grandfather always kept on his person. “I’m just
getting this for Sid, I swear. I’m not stealing anything.”
     
    Bridget flinched at the familiarity.
“Sid? Sorry, are you telling me you’re on a first-name basis with my
grandfather?”
     
    “Oh, shit!” said the man. His face
lit up in a smile of recognition as he looked her up and down. “You’re Sid’s
granddaughter? Man, why didn’t he tell me you’re so stacked ?”
     
    A weird mix of confusion and
something like butterflies washed over Bridget. “Excuse me?”
     
    “Seriously, I am immediately furious
at him for not setting us up on a blind date years ago. He’s been holding out
on me!”
     
    The adrenaline was dying, now that
Bridget knew she was in no danger—but the headache was returning. She clasped
the bridge of her nose. “Look, guy, it’s been a really long goddamn day. Let’s
just… let’s back up a bit.”
     
    He folded his arms and sighed. “Well,
the year was 1979. The USSR was beginning its charming little campaign into the
desert wastelands of Afghanistan, and an album by a young street tough by the name
of Michael Jackson was hitting the charts…”
     
    “Not to the beginning of your
life,” Bridget snapped. Yet she was laughing under her breath. The weight
of her tension began to