Free Bikers and Pearls by Vicki Wilkerson Page A

said.
    She twisted and struggled to break his grip. Oh, God! Where is Bull?

Chapter Four
    As soon as Bull rounded the corner, he saw April—pinned against her car by some creep
     in a sissy sweater.
    Anger rose up in him, and he gritted his teeth. When the scumbag saw Bull getting
     closer, he let her go. Bull pulled his Harley up way too close to the dude and turned
     it off. It was going to take everything he had to control the rage that was pulsating
     through his body. But he could do it. He wasn’t the young, unbridled man he was when
     he was with the Angels.
    “What can I help you gentlemen with?” asked Bull in his best menacingly low, gravelly
     voice. He dismounted his bike like he had serious business to take care of. He turned
     his fists into weapons—just in case.
    “Sir, we simply stopped to see if the lady needed any help,” said the fair-haired
     guy.
    He drew in a slow, deep, even breath. “I have that covered, boys. Why don’t you all
     just climb back into that little toy of yours and go get yourselves a glass of milk
     or something?” Bull stood with his legs spread in a stance that said, This is my territory and I’m not moving .
    “Yes, sir. We’re leaving now, sir.” The young man motioned for his cronies to come
     along. In moments they were gone. Bull closed his eyes for the briefest of moments
     and pushed away the shudder of the thought that April could have been harmed.
    Bull turned and reached for April’s shoulders. He bent his knees slightly until his
     gaze was level with hers. “You okay?”
    She didn’t answer.
    But he knew. No, she wasn’t. She was shaking, and she couldn’t speak. He pulled her
     close to him. She was shivering. He shouldn’t like the feel of her against him so
     much right now.
    “It’s okay. They’re gone. You’re safe,” he said. He meant it. She was safe. He wasn’t
     going to let anyone harm her. Certainly not a bunch of preppy goons. He’d seen their
     type before. All “sir” this and “ma’am” that. He knew what was behind their squeaky-clean
     façades. And it wasn’t Sunday-school-lesson materials.
    No. They weren’t about to harm the lovely young woman in his arms, even though he
     couldn’t quite figure her out himself—with all her contradictory qualities. Frightened
     to death and still wanting to help Patch’s grandson. She may have been a bit of a
     pretentious Southern belle, but he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her.
    It took a while for her shaking to stop. How scared she must have been. How scared
     must she be to allow him to hold her to calm her down. He shook his head when he thought
     what might have happened if he hadn’t arrived when he did.
    He pushed her away from him and looked into her brown eyes. He brushed her sandy hair
     out of her face. “Everything’s fine. Those guys won’t be coming back.” He glanced
     over her face, wishing he could find some kind of words to comfort her. “You want
     to sit in the car now while I install that switch?”
    She nodded, still unable to speak. He took off his jacket, wrapped it around her shoulders,
     and helped her into her vehicle. Knowing how she probably felt about the whole motorcycle
     scene, he was a bit surprised that she accepted his leather bomber so readily.
    He retrieved a flashlight, the switch, and the tools he needed from the saddlebag
     on his bike and started working under the hood.
    Those creeps had shaken April up big-time—traumatized her almost.
    “Crank her up,” he said, leaning his head from under the hood. The engine purred.
     He gathered his tools.
    Maybe what she needed was a little education and exposure to the rest of the world
     to teach her how to deal with goons like those guys. Yep. That was what she needed,
     to become better able to deal with the likes of those society snakes.
    Bull knew that was going to be a nearly impossible job, though. How could he show
     her anything if she hung out in la-ti-da coffee shops,