Bad Boys for Hire: Ryker (Bad Boys for Hire #1) (2 page)

R
yker lowered
his sunglasses and glared across the street at the entitled female who’d come out of the restaurant with her posse to confront him for panhandling. It was a stroke of good luck that a truck had driven so slowly through the intersection, giving him ample time to cross the street.

He would have let it go, in fact, he should let it go, but the woman, and that was a charitable term for the way he was feeling, had told him to get a job and pay taxes.

And now, she was standing there with her mouth wide open as if she was shocked he hadn’t turned tail and run.

Either that, or his fly was down.

Ryker wasn’t going to take his eyes off her to check, so he tucked the can and sign under one arm and ran a finger over his zipper. It wasn’t open, so she had no reason to continue staring at him.

Against his better judgment, he set his can and sign on the sidewalk and jogged across the street like a missile locked onto its target.

She wasn’t a bad looking woman. In fact, the closer he got, the more he liked what he saw. Curvy and tall, she wore her blond hair straight and parted to one side. She had on a greenish-blue cowl-necked sweater that accentuated her shapely boobs, and despite her fuller figure, her waist narrowed enough to give her an hourglass shape.

Her sapphire blue eyes widened as he closed in, and her mouth opened into an oval surrounded by tart pink lips that he would have been tempted to lick had she not insulted him.

“How do you know I’m not looking for a job?” He lowered his voice to a growl. “What gives you the right to judge me? Do you know me? Do you know what I’ve done? Where I’ve been?”

“I, uh …” The woman swallowed and lost her slack-jawed look. “Just think you should work for a change. Able-bodied man like yourself.”

Her curious eyes took the opportunity to tour Ryker’s body, lingering at a few obvious bulges—biceps, pectorals, for starters, before returning to his face.

Right, she was checking out the goods while reserving the right to judge. He wanted to rip her a new one: to tell her to get her privileged ass out of her comfy McMansion, to volunteer at a soup kitchen or visit an orphanage in Afghanistan. But then, he would be just as bad as her—judging without knowing her.

“I’m Ryker Slade. I would love to work. If you have a job for me, I’ll be glad to take it. I’m not picky. I’ll do anything except stand guard.”

“You have a criminal record?” The woman’s eyes narrowed in an assessing manner. She struck him as a no nonsense type, and there was no point lying to her.

“Charged with unlawful sexual intercourse when I was seventeen with a girl my own age, but my record’s been wiped clean and I served in the Marines with no infractions. I was injured in my last tour of duty. Here I am, ready for whatever job you have in mind.”

The buxom blonde’s lips curved upward as if amused. “Unlawful sexual intercourse, you say? Guess that wouldn’t disqualify you from arranging flowers.”

“Arranging what?” Ryker jerked his head back, not sure if he’d heard her correctly.

“Flowers, I’m a florist.” The woman held her hand out to shake. “Name’s Terri Martin, owner of Love Me Flowers, you know that love me, love me not thing they do with daisies?”

“Actually I don’t.” He took her hand, surprised to find it warm and cozy. “Nice to meet you, Terri, er, Miss Martin. Does this mean I’m hired?”

“On a temporary basis,” Terri replied. “And you can call me Terri. I have a guy who does deliveries and an assistant, but we had a rash of funerals lately, and I need an extra pair of hands.”

“Great. What’s the pay?”

Ryker let his hand linger too long, because Terri withdrew her fingers and frowned. “Minimum wage. Or do you make more per hour panhandling?”

He’d like to wipe that scowl off her pretty face, but she was the boss lady, so he nodded politely and said, “I’ll take it. I can start right away.”

She slipped a twenty dollar bill from her wallet. “Here’s cab fare and my business card. I’ll see you at two o’clock. Two fifteen latest, or the deal’s off.”

Without waiting for him to give the money back, she wheeled around and walked away, and boy did he enjoy watching her hips sway and the way the wind played with her hair.

“God bless you,” he shouted after her, but either she didn’t hear, or she’d already written him off, deciding that he’d take the twenty and run.

Except Marines ran toward trouble, not away.

T
oo late
, Terri realized her friends had seen the entire interaction. She wandered back into the restaurant to their expectant faces.

“Omigod!” Leanna squealed. “You totally flirted with him, you slut, you.”

Jolie patted her shoulder. “I thought he was going to tackle you the way he charged you, like a rutting male elk.”

“Rutting male elks only charge other rutting male elks,” Sherelle corrected. “But what’s with giving him money? I thought you didn’t want to encourage panhandlers.”

“Oh, she makes an exception for the hunky ones,” Nikki commented while looking at her smartphone. “I took a video. Too bad I didn’t get the sound. What did you say to him? What did he say to you?”

“I offered him a job.” Terri smoothed her wispy hair and patted it down, then bumped her behind into the booth, edging Nikki to the corner. She hoped she sounded casual enough. It wasn’t as if she’d offered him a date.

“Doing what? Delivering flowers?” Jolie’s eyebrows arched. “I can’t imagine but he’d scare away all the customers.”

“Or, get a little action on the side,” Leanna said. “Think I’m ordering me a little bouquet and a bottle of bubbly this afternoon.”

“Did you check his references?” Sherelle, always the voice of caution, interjected. “Rough looking guy like that. I bet he’s running drugs.”

“He says his record’s clean. Former Marine,” Terri replied. “Only trouble he ever got into was unlawful sexual intercourse.”

“Unlawful? Like what? He was caught with a prostitute?” Jolie frowned. “I can’t believe he admitted it to you.”

“He was seventeen having sex with a seventeen-year-old girl, or so he says. They threw it out of his record.” For some reason, Terri felt the need to defend Ryker.

“Sounds like a come-on to me,” Leanna said. “How much did you give him?”

“Twenty bucks cab fare and my card.” Terri felt her cheeks heating up. She hardly dared to expect to see him again.

“Ai yi yi!” Leanna exclaimed. “I’m going back to the flower shop with you. See if he shows up.”

“Don’t you have a cake to bake or a piecrust to roll out?” Terri tried not to feel possessive about Ryker. After all, she’d been the one to give him a handout. “Besides, I don’t expect him to show up. Easiest twenty dollars he ever got. I ought to have him arrested for aggressive panhandling.”

Four pairs of eyes zeroed in on Terri, making her squirm in her seat. Sweat dampened between her boobs and she knew she was making too big a deal out of this.

She picked up the menu with a flourish and parked her nose in it. “Let’s order. I’m starved.”

“Oh no, not until we take a bet,” Jolie, her supposed best friend from preschool play dates, said. “I bet he shows.”

“Me, too,” Leanna chimed in. “He totally has the hots for you. Did you see how he catalogued your entire body?”

“Well, if he did, that’s all the more reason for disappearing.” Terri desperately tamped down the flicker of hope that Ryker might have honestly wanted a job.

“Oh, he’ll show,” Nikki said. “Can’t miss the chemistry in the body language. Here, let me rerun the video.”

“I agree,” Sherelle concluded authoritatively. “He left his can and sign on the other side of the road and took off on a motorcycle. A big, souped-up Harley.”

All eyes turned to the window again. Sure enough, the can, presumably empty, was sitting on the sidewalk across the street.

“A motorcycle?” Terri’s stomach rumbled and rolled as if a wild squirrel had taken up residence. Her supposedly homeless Marine had a motorcycle? Then he couldn’t be as down or out as he’d portrayed himself to be.

“Terri, are you betting he won’t show up?” Jolie made markings on a napkin.

“Yeah, sure, what are we betting for?” Terri took a gulp of ice water and slapped herself on the inside for believing the handsome, rugged stranger oozing with testosterone.

“Ruffles,” Jolie said. “If you lose, you’re wearing ruffles.”

“And if I win?” Terri lifted her chin to show them she wasn’t the least bit upset to have parted with twenty of her hard earned after-tax dollars.

“We hire someone from Bad Boys for Hire for your birthday party.”

A
fter a quick meal
from a food truck, Ryker checked the time and rode to his buddy Axe’s property in the backwoods of Old La Honda Road. He hoped his buddy was home, but he knew where the spare key was hidden.

The rumble from his Harley alerted the big black mastiff guarding the cabin. It lunged from behind a chain linked fence, barking and baring his teeth.

“Shut up, Gio,” Ryker growled, tossing a strip of beef he’d saved from the kebob sandwich he’d had for lunch.

Working for a florist wasn’t his first choice of jobs, but the owner was definitely an attraction—not that he should jeopardize his job by chatting her up. Still, she would be good to look at, and her shapely curves definitely revved his engine. He glanced at the business card and chuckled.
Love Me Flowers.
Very catchy and clever, just like the owner.

The dog wolfed down the meat and resumed barking, but no longer showed his teeth.

Ryker leaned on the doorbell and waited, giving his buddy time to get decent if he was wrapped between a woman’s legs. Axe Salvadori owned a nightclub in Foster City, and he plowed through women like a bull goring a matador’s red cape.

The dog, meanwhile, kept up the barking and growling, which would take the heat off whatever action was going on inside. Ryker buzzed the bell long and hard.

“Enough, enough,” shouted a deep, Italian-accented voice from inside. Heavy footsteps plodded toward the door. “Ryker, this better be good.”

Axe knew none of the few door to door solicitors would drive down his winding road and face down Gio, short for Gio Batta, the large Italian mastiff used by ancient Roman legions in warfare. A Cane Corso was not a dog anyone would want to mess with.

The door was thrown open to a bare-chested man with streaks of lipstick over his face, pulling up his pants.

“I need some clothes,” Ryker said. “Got a job.”

“What about my offer to tend bar at the club?” The other man stood back to let Ryker enter.

“You know the reason,” Ryker said. His former motorcycle club hung out at Axe’s nightclub, and there was no way he could step in there without blowing it into a full fledged war.

“Maybe they forgave you already,” Axe mumbled under his breath. Neither man really believed that, and Axe would never understand the motorcycle life, and what a betrayal Ryker’s actions had been both to his family and to his club brothers.

“What’s the new job?” Axe led the way past the bedroom to a room that served as a storage closet. Despite Axe inviting him to stay with him, Ryker knew better than to impose on his buddy who kept late night hours and favored screamers in bed, sometimes more than one.

“Doesn’t matter. Might have customers, so I need slacks, dress shirt, loafers. Business casual.”

“Do I look like a department store?” Axe’s grin split his rugged face as he slapped Ryker on the back.

Despite all the ribbing, the men were tight like brothers—maybe tighter than Ryker was with his blood brothers. He shoved the thought of his family from his mind.

“You’re about my size, I’d say.”

Axe made a muscle. “I’m bigger. But I’ve got what you need.”

While Ryker selected a few outfits, Axe pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He blew out a puff of smoke. “You trying to impress someone?”

“Nope, just want to keep the job,” Ryker grumbled. Of course, he’d want to look good for his hot, sexy boss, but he wasn’t going to get ribbed by Axe about that.

“Why won’t you tell me where you’re working? Are you afraid of scaring customers away?”

Axe was a persistent bastard and infinitely too interested in details. Hadn’t he ever heard of boundaries? But then, who else would have kept Ryker’s Harley safe while his own brothers were out for his blood?

“It’s a flower shop, okay?” Ryker felt he owed Axe as much. He threw the card on the dresser.

“Love Me Flowers.” Axe’s brows furrowed as he studied the professional portrait shot of Terri Martin, owner and sole proprietress of Love Me Flowers. “Tell you what, I’ll help you impress your boss and put in an order for the club tonight. I assume you want to impress her, don’t you?”

“Thanks, I just want to keep the job.” Ryker’s stomach soured, and he wanted to snatch the card from his buddy’s grubby hands. He hated that Axe’s eyes had gleamed lustfully at Terri’s business card. It wasn’t as if she were wearing Victoria’s Secret. “Don’t you have a hottie or two waiting in there?”

He hooked his chin toward the bedroom where he had no doubt Axe wasn’t taking a siesta, at least not the snoozing kind.

“You really want to work for the flower lady?” Axe’s smirk and chuckle were almost too much to take. “Big tough Marine like you? My buddy, Rex Carter, has a gig where he hires guys out for bachelor parties, dances, stuff like that. Heard he’s looking for biker impersonators. Pays well, too.”

“You mean an escort service?” Ryker’s antenna for bullshit raised an alert.

“Something like that, but any screwing is off contract.” Axe reached into his pocket and offered up a crumpled business card. “He was at Club Rachelle last night complaining about a group of romance writers reserving his entire tough-guy inventory for the next two weeks. Has a request for a birthday party for a thirty-year-old who can’t find herself a date.”

“Not interested.” Ryker reached for Terri’s card, but Axe yanked it back.

A teasing smile crossed Axe’s mug. “If my boss were the flower lady, I’d dog her, too.”

“I’m not dogging anyone.” The hairs on the back of Ryker’s neck bristled. Ever since he’d been charged with unlawful sexual intercourse, he’d been careful not to screw up again. One never knew if a woman would take back consent and haul him into court.

“That’s your problem,” Axe grinned knowingly as he dropped Terri’s card back onto the dresser along with the crumpled Bad Boys for Hire one. “Take whatever you need. I’ve got a warm kitty to get back to.”

After his buddy retired to his bedroom, Ryker quickly gathered the clothes and turned up the shower to cover the sounds that would soon come from the bedroom.

Right before leaving, he grabbed both business cards and shoved them into his pocket. Jobs were scarce, and he could always use extra cash, even if he had to stoop to dating an unattractive woman who had to hire out for a date.