Lady Guardians: Onyx Rides, page 1
Note from the Publisher: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead or references to locations, persons, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters, circumstances and events are imaginative and not intended to reflect real events.
Onyx Rides: The Lady Guardians
Copyright 2018 Celeste Granger
All Rights Reserved and Proprietary.
No part of this book may be reproduced, in any form or format without written permission from Publisher. Send all requests via email to [email protected]
Printed in the United States of America
Acknowledgment
I am always grateful for the chance to tell a story; a story that germinates in my mind and spills out onto paper. And then, for readers to enjoy it enough to read more from me, is just so thrilling. Firstly, thank you to everyone who has given me a chance by reading my work. Thank you to Xyla Turner for creating the Lady Guardians Project and for all the authors in the cohort who are also making their dreams come true. Thank you to my publishing family; graphic artists, editors, alpha and beta readers. Thank you to my family and friends and thank you God for giving me this tremendous gift. I promise to take care of it.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to every girl who likes to ride…
Chapter One
It was the middle of the evening rush at Café Laquette, a four-star restaurant in the heart of Little Five Points in Atlanta. Summertime in Atlanta; when the days are long, the temperature high, and the city buzzed with all kinds of activities from music festivals to sporting events, the Points was a destination, and Café Laquette was at the epicenter. The owner, Onyx Malone, had her hands full not only managing the front of the house but making sure the back of the house kept up with demand. Busy was always good in business, but Onyx hated for her clients to have to wait too long, and at the moment, there was a thirty-minute wait to be seated. Leaving the back of the house, having a rushed chat with best friend and head chef, Tre’ Jones, Onyx made her way through the restaurant to check in with the maître d’, Carmen Rodriguez. Tre’ and Rodriguez had been with Onyx since she opened Laquette. She trusted them implicitly to not only provide great service but to always have her back.
“It’s standing room only. Even the terrace seats have a wait,” Carmen advised leaning in and whispering in Onyx’s ear so none of the patrons standing around could hear. Carmen leaned back and drew Onyx’s attention to the front picture window.
“And you probably need to address that,” Carmen insisted. Onyx’s eyes widened as she noted the disturbance right outside her front window.
“I’ll handle it,” Onyx replied.
She lowered her eyes and smiled as she passed the customers waiting to be seated. Easing her curvy frame through the crowd, Onyx pushed open the front door and stepped into the warmth of the Atlanta evening. Parked immediately in front of the restaurant's picture window were four motorcycles. The bikes were large enough to not only impede the sidewalk but also create a barrier to the entrance of Café Laquette. Two of the four riders were resting against their bikes while two others stood nearby. They were all engrossed in conversation, laughing and having a good time.
It was enough for Onyx’s customers to have to wait to eat, but it was quite another to have to maneuver around motorcycles or be put off thinking she was running a dive bar. Onyx’s cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She paused only long enough to see who the caller was and declined to answer it. He knows better, she thought to herself. It’s the middle of dinner rush… idiot. Onyx shook her head and shoved the phone back into her pocket. The heels of Onyx’s brushed black Manolo Blahniks clicked rhythmically on the concrete as she sashayed over to address the bikers.
“Excuse me,” Onyx said once she reached the group. One of the bikers who had been leaning against his Harley noticed Onyx when she first exited the restaurant. She noticed them too; dressed in typical biker gear; heavy boots, worn jeans, and leather vests with patches; not the kind of attire typical to patrons of Café Laquette.
Damn, he mused as she moved determinedly yet gracefully down the walk. And when she approached, he was the first to stand and respond to her as the other riders turned in her direction.
“What can we do for you, beautiful,” Egypt, president of the Down South Riders said.
“I would appreciate it if you would move your motorcycles from the front of my establishment, Onyx said, feeling the eyes of the four men taking her stature in fully, but none more than the one speaking.
“Where are we supposed to park if we want to eat here,” one of the other bikers asked.
“There are parking spaces to the rear of the restaurant and any available street slots” Onyx suggested, trying to be professional but also firm. She noted that the line of patrons waiting to enter continued to grow and those heading toward the restaurant where the bikes were parked had to literally step off the curb in order to get by.
“All those spaces were full,” another rider suggested.
Egypt kept his eyes on Onyx. He could see that she was in a tough spot and trying to do right by everyone.
“I wish there was something else I could offer you all, but”
“No need,” Egypt interrupted, closing the distance between himself and the woman speaking. “We’ll park somewhere else.”
One of his club mates started to protest. Egypt lifted his hand and all nay-saying ceased. Onyx noticed the respect he commanded.
“Thank you, I appreciate it,” Onyx offered with a smile.
“No worries,” Egypt replied. His lips slid into a slight smile. Onyx felt his eyes on her and when her eyes met his, the biker’s eyes smoldered. His gaze was penetrating. Taking a step back, Onyx turned on her heel and proceeded back toward the door of her establishment. She felt eyes on her but didn’t turn around to acknowledge them. By the time she entered Laquette, the bikers honored their word and began to move from the front. Carmen watched her boss as she entered the café.
“It’s been handled,” Onyx affirmed.
“I see,” Carmen quipped.
The remainder of the evening, Onyx focused on service to her patrons. By the time the restaurant closed, well after midnight, Onyx was exhausted. Tre’ and Carmen were still there with her finalizing their specific responsibilities as they often did.
“You staying for a nightcap, boss lady,” Tre’ teased.
“Not tonight,” Onyx replied. “You’ll lock up for me though?”
“You know I gotcha,” Tre’ replied with a wink.
By the time Onyx stepped outside, the night air was still warm. The crowds hadn’t died down in the least. Hitting the button on her key fob, Onyx started her Black Jaguar XJ and popped the locks just as she placed her hand on the handle. Navigating out of the parking lot, Onyx was already thinking about a hot bath, her new pajamas, and her California King, ready for her to climb in.
By the time Onyx hit the interstate leaving the city and driving towards the suburbs where she lived, it started to rain; lightly at first but heavier the further down the highway she traveled. Atlanta weather could be so unpredictable, especially in the summer. Without missing a beat, Onyx flipped the switch on the wipers and settled in for the fifteen-minute ride. She relaxed in the driver’s seat, letting Brian McKnight serenade her. Yeah, he was old school, but Onyx liked the real R&B; not the new stuff where you couldn’t understand the lyrics. Onyx could start to feel the tension in her shoulders relax as she zipped down the roadway at 75 miles an hour.
It started to rain harder, making it difficult to see even with the wipers moving at a faster rate. Onyx slowed the Jag down, back within the confines of the legally regulated speed limited. Drawing closer to her exit, Onyx checked the rearview mirror, turned on her right blinker and proceeded to merge as the road was clear. As Onyx eased the Jag over, she jumped as a truck horn blared loudly, startling her and causing Onyx to overcorrect. Adrenaline surged through her veins and what was once a regular heart rate surged as well. She held the steering wheel tightly, not losing control of the car, but the overcorrection resulted in the Jaguar sliding onto the shoulder. The raised notification bumps the developers of the highway installed to notify a driver that they were off the road, reverberated under the wet tires and Onyx held the steering wheel firm to correct once again.
“Oh my God,” Onyx murmured as the Jaguar’s tires finally returned to an even surface. The beat of Onyx’s heart still thumped loudly in her ears, but her heart rate started to move back toward the direction of normal. And then, there was a loud thump and Onyx found it necessary once again to hold on to the steering wheel for dear life, take her foot off the gas pedal and intentionally move toward the shoulder. Before the Jag came to a complete stop, the car limped badly.
Putting the car in park, Onyx reached out and turned on the hazard lights.
“Ugh,” she moaned as rapid drops of rain beat down on her idle car. Turning toward the back seat, Onyx reached for the umbrella that was supposed to be there. It wasn’t. She moaned loudly and beat on the steering wheel for about five seconds before taking a deep breath and opening the driver’s side door. The warm air that initially greeted Onyx when she stepped out of the restaurant had been replaced by cool quick-falling drops of much cooler rain that quickly soaked her thick natural hair and caused her poly-cotton dress to cling to her curvature. When the heels of her shoes clicked this time, it was with the accompaniment of splashing water. Checking for oncoming t
Chapter Two
There wasn’t much she could do standing on the side of the road. Onyx’s shoulders dropped, and she stood there under the beating rain before deciding that the best place to be was back inside the safety of her car. Traffic continued to move past her at a much slower and less concentrated rate as drivers heeded the weather in their trek to move forward. It was a short trek, but a decidedly wet one nonetheless as Onyx tiptoed on her three-inch stilettos back to the driver’s side. Quickly opening the door, she jumped in closing the door behind her.
Cell phone. Roadside assistance. That’s what she needed as changing the flattened tire herself was not an option; not in the current weather conditions. Reaching into her purse on the passenger side, Onyx pulled out her cell phone. She tapped in the code to bring the phone to life and immediately received a warning. “Low battery.” Once again, during the course of running her profitable business, Onyx forgot to charge her phone. And, after another quick reach in her purse, Onyx realized she left the charger… somewhere. Onyx didn’t have the energy for another moan, instead she dialed 511.
“Roadside,” the voice rasped over the phone line.
“Yes, I have a flat tire and need assistance,” Onyx said.
“Okay, but there’s a wait,” the operator droned. “Folks don’t respect the weather enough. Driving all fast like it’s dry out.”
“Do you have any idea how long of a wait,” Onyx asked, disregarding the operator’s personal rant.
“Where did you say you were again?”
“Uh, hold on,” Onyx replied. “It’s kind of hard to see.” She craned her neck trying to see the mile marker on the side of the road. She was near her exit, but, in all the confusion, Onyx couldn’t determine if she over or undershot it.
“Okay, I’m at mile marker 145 near exit uh, 14.”
There as a brief pause where no one spoke.
“We’ll get to you as soon as we can. Make sure your car is at a safe distance from oncoming traffic and that your hazard lights are one.”
The operator didn’t wait for Onyx to say anything else as the line went dead in her hand.
“Hello? Okay,” Onyx sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to wait.”
Onyx leaned her head back and rested it on the Italian leather. She tried to disconnect from how uncomfortable she felt with wet hair and even wetter clothes. Headlights appeared, and tail lights appeared as she sat, waiting for a rescue. The rain that had fallen so hard and fast began to taper off to a more pleasant sprinkle.
“At least that’s something,” Onyx mused as she watched the trails of water on her windshield form and transform creating streaks down the glass. The cell phone chirped to life. Hastily, Onyx grabbed it, hoping the call was from roadside assistance saying they could get to her sooner. But it wasn’t roadside. It was him, again. Another swipe to the screen declined the call; not sending it to voicemail. There were still fifteen or twenty messages Onyx still refused to listen to. She didn’t need him to leave another one. Onyx hated redundancy. Without much thought, she allowed the phone to drop to the passenger seat and again rested her head on the headrest. This could be the longest thirty minutes of Onyx’s life, waiting for someone to rescue her. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. Then, Onyx’s ears piqued as she heard a rhythmic, slow rumble much closer to her car than the passing traffic. When the rumbling didn’t stop, Onyx turned around to see if she could determine where the noise was coming from. There was a single headlight positioned right behind her car.
That’s not roadside assistance, Onyx thought. A quick rap on the driver side window made Onyx jump a mile.
“Whew!”
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the baritone voice rang from outside. “Just seeing if you need some help.”
Onyx’s hand that rested on her heart from the fright remained as she leaned toward the window. Her eyes automatically dropped down to ensure the door was locked before she looked up to see a man standing outside looking in at her.
“Just want to help,” he crooned as their eyes met through the water-dotted window.
Turning the key in the ignition only enough to activate the electrical system, Onyx cracked the window. The smile that greeted her looked vaguely familiar and when the man dropped down further so she could fully see his face, Onyx knew she’d seen him before.
“Need a lift,” Egypt crooned through his million-watt smile.
“They said roadside was coming,” Onyx replied, finding herself smiling in return.
“It will be a while,” Egypt replied. “You shouldn’t be sitting out here by yourself.”
Onyx considered that.
“Let me just give you a lift,” Egypt suggested again. Before Onyx could offer any further objection, the driver’s side door opened, and Egypt extended his hand. There was a moment where Onyx considered waiting might be the better option, but instead of retreating and declining, Onyx grabbed her purse, turned the ignition to off and removed the key. She accepted Egypt’s extended hand and he gently lifted her to standing. Egypt moved her out far enough to close the door behind her, but he also ensured that he stood between her and oncoming traffic. The rain was now practically nonexistent as Egypt led Onyx to his Harley.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, Onyx thought as Egypt picked up a helmet.
“Let me help you with this,” Egypt suggested as he eased the brushed chrome helmet onto her head. Onyx noticed how much care Egypt took in attending to her.
“I don’t even know your name,” she said. It was more an internal thought that spilled from her pouty lips.
“I’m Egypt,” he replied, finding her eyes even past the remaining drops of rain.
“I’m Onyx.”
The smile that Onyx noticed before eased across Egypt’s lips again as he put on his own helmet and then shifted his body onto the awaiting bike. He extended his left hand and waited for Onyx to take it. When he spoke to her this time, Onyx heard it through the helmet.
“Grab my hand and climb on.”
The magnification of his raspy baritone voice was like surround sound in the helmet. Onyx followed his instruction, laughing to herself as she had to hike up her dress above her knees in order to position herself behind Egypt on the bike.
“It’s cool,” he smirked, “I’m not looking.”
She laughed out loud and Egypt heard the musicality of her voice in his ears.
“You ready?” He asked.
Onyx nodded her head. Realizing she hadn’t spoken, she mumbled affirmatively. The bike came to life underneath her. She could feel the power reverberating through her thighs. Sliding her purse onto her arm, Onyx braced herself for the bike to move.
“It helps if you put your arms around my waist,” Egypt suggested.
I don’t even know him, Onyx mused again.
Gripping the handlebars, Egypt revved the engine, then turned on the blinker and eased the bike into oncoming traffic. She felt the power move through her again and instead of lightly holding on to his waist, Egypt found herself wrapping her arms around him as the speed of the bike increased. The wetness of her clothes pressed against the strength she could feel in his back as he navigated the Harley.
“I didn’t tell you where I was going,” Onyx said, feeling the wind whip past her helmet. She thought about it for a moment. Probably wouldn’t be the smartest thing to tell a perfect stranger where she lived. He already knew where she worked. What if he was a psycho or a serial killer or something?
“Where would you like me to take you,” Egypt trilled.
“Café Laquette.”
Chapter Three
Onyx had never been on a motorcycle before. She wasn’t even sure she had an opinion about personally riding one, but she had always thought that there was something dangerously sexy about them; the bike she meant. Or maybe it was the riders? She could feel Egypt’s muscles rise and flex as he moved the bike so effortlessly along the highway. Once the duo exited the interstate, Egypt’s body position changed to a more relaxed posture. He guided the heavy bike with one hand and spoke again into Onyx’s ear.
